Not So Different
53. Coming To Terms
School was packing up for summer.
Helen Morgendorffer was still working hard on her big case.
Jake Morgendorffer was still working hard for Le Grand Hotel.
And neither of them had noticed that Sonny had no plans to work hard over the summer. Or, indeed, to work at all. For the first time he could remember, his mother had not lined up a tedious summer activity for him. No music lessons, no summer camp—Sonny suppressed a shudder at the recollection of Camp Grizzly—no nothing.
Of course, if he kept dating Tom, it might possibly mean hard work figuring out the whole 'being gay' thing, and feelings and stuff, but … he put that whole subject firmly out of his head. He definitely didn't want it there while he was trying to smooth things down with Jane. She hadn't laughed or snorted or even smirked at one thing he'd said since Tom had broken up with her and started dating him. He shouldn't have kissed Tom behind her back, he'd admitted that to her, and he'd apologised, and she knew what a shock the whole thing had been to him. If she didn't want him to date Tom, wouldn't she just say, 'I don't want you to date Tom'? But she hadn't. He started to raise his hand to scratch behind his ear and then dropped it. Hadn't he just decided to put the whole business out of his head? He did it again, more firmly still, and concentrated on Jane. She was walking just a step ahead of him. She'd been doing that a lot lately. He didn't try to catch up and get back in step with her, because if he did that she'd just speed up the minimum required to make sure she still stayed one step ahead of him. That was a contest he could never win.
He tried for a wisecrack instead, suggesting that he was finding out what it felt like to be a Lane. Jane's first response was in kind.
'That can't be, since it's only afternoon and you're already out of bed.'
Encouraged, Sonny went on to explain that with the absence of parental involvement in his life, he was turning into Jane.
'Well', she replied, 'you've got so much else of mine, you might as well have my identity.'
Okay, thought Sonny, this is now officially not going well. Aloud, he said, 'That would be your straight identity, would it?'
Jane looked over her shoulder at him and grimaced, then shook her head, before announcing that, unlike him, she did have summer plans. She'd been accepted into a two-month program at an artists' colony run by somebody who used to be in a commune with her mother, and she'd be painting and sculpting her heart out.
Sonny had enough trouble sounding enthusiastic on the rare occasions when he actually was enthusiastic. He couldn't make his congratulations sound sincere. He'd got the point at once: for two months Jane would be away from Lawndale and away from him. She wouldn't even respond to his endeavours to extract information about the location of the artists' colony. She just told Sonny that with her away he'd have that much more time for his 'budding social life'.
Now it was Sonny's turn to grimace. She'd been like this ever since the whole thing with Tom had started. He'd have thought, in the circumstances, that a friend could cut a friend just a little bit of slack.
Sonny's mother couldn't stay ignorant of the approach of the school's summer vacation forever.
It was Sonny's father becoming comically alarmed about the sell-by date on a box of food he'd just eaten from that alerted her, but if it hadn't been that it would have been something else—quite possibly some other random raving from her husband. Failing that, Sonny knew, he could never count on Quinn to keep her mouth shut.
Once Sonny's mother had registered the significance of the arrival of June, she wanted to know what Sonny was doing for summer. Sonny had foreseen this moment, but the only tactic he had prepared was to stall by lying that he had a job. Naturally his mother wanted to know exactly what it was.
'I'm sorry', Sonny lied again, 'but the confidentiality agreement I signed with the government prevents me from revealing that. I've already said too much.'
'Sonny, I'm serious. I'm not going to let you sit around the house all summer.'
'Fine. I'll lie around the house all summer.'
Sonny didn't really expect that to get him off the hook, but at that moment Quinn came into the room and their mother redirected her fire to an easier target. Now that she was on a roll, she wanted to know what Quinn would be doing for summer. Quinn started babbling about disappointing test scores; the solution turned out to be a tutor over the vacation; and further discussion of Sonny's summer was averted. He was still worried, though. He couldn't keep stalling forever. Fortunately he only needed to keep stalling for a couple of months.
Sonny's summer was still unblemished by plans on the very last day of school, which was also the very last day he'd have the chance to talk with Jane before her summer plans kicked in. When he put it to her, she purported to be ready to talk—but not about 'the Tom thing'.
'If you're still upset about it, we should deal with it now', Sonny said. 'Especially since we won't be seeing each other all summer.'
'You don't get it, do you? I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to think about it. I told you, I'm not mad at you about Tom. Now let it freaking go, okay?'
Sonny tried at least to get her to let him buy her a good-luck pizza before her departure for her big art adventure, but she just rejected him again. As he watched her go, he thought to himself, Well, I hope I never see you when you are mad at me about Tom. Then he remembered that he had, and just what that was like.
Helen found Jake in the living room. She wanted to have a serious talk with him. Much to her relief, he had shown no signs of being even remotely troubled about Sonny's dating a boy, but now they were going to meet this Tom for the first time, and she didn't want Jake to embarrass his son by getting nervous and crazy. The only thing he seemed to be able to focus on, though, was the story Sonny had told him about Tom's having no vocal cords. Helen tried to make him understand that had been Sonny's bizarre idea of a joke; when she couldn't get through to him, she just told him to say nothing.
Jake said, 'So he won't feel self-conscious about the vocal cords, right?'
Then the doorbell rang.
Helen answered it and welcomed Tom inside. Jake leapt up to introduce himself, and Tom's response was the first time Helen heard his surname, Sloane. It was a name that immediately reminded her of a pillar of the Lawndale establishment, the firm of Grace, Sloane, and Page, and she tactfully enquired about a connection.
'Well, that's my Dad', Tom said slowly, 'so I guess …'
Jake interrupted with a crass joke about insider trading. After one excruciating moment he did at least recognise his gaffe and made some ridiculous excuse (something about his own vocal cords) for leaving the room just as Sonny came down the stairs.
Helen lost the will to try to find out anything more about Tom before the two boys went out.
'Sorry about that', said Sonny to Tom, as they walked to Tom's car. 'They've been acting a little strange ever since, oh …'
'Ever since their son started dating a boy? It can take a little getting used to.'
Sonny took a quick backward glance over his shoulder at the house. 'Actually, sexuality has turned out to be a complete non-issue', he said. 'It must be those 1960s counterculture ideals … or something. What I was going to say is that they've been acting a little strange ever since—I can remember. I suppose that might be some hangover from the 1960s, too. Look, never mind that. Any thoughts for the evening?'
Tom leaned over to give Sonny a quick kiss. 'Pizza?'
'Okay.' Sonny never turned down pizza if he could help it. It had used to be something he had in common with Jane …
Approaching the pizzeria, Sonny and Tom encountered Kevin and Brittany. Brittany smiled sunnily and extended a cheery greeting to Sonny, who returned it cautiously.
'Hey, Sonny', Kevin said, 'I didn't know you had a brother.'
Sonny took a quick glance at Tom before replying.
'You know what, Kevin? I've got some bad news for you. You remember that time you thought I was interested in Brittany, when we had that lab project for Ms Barch, and you beat me up for it to teach me to stay away from her? It turns out that was all a complete waste of your time, because I'm only interested in boys.'
Sonny wasn't expecting Kevin to start bullying him because he was gay—the Kevins of this world could always find a reason to bully him, anyway, not that he would have hidden in the closet (now that he knew the truth) to avoid a beating if that had been the issue. He'd survived a beating from Kevin once before. What took him by surprise was that he had failed to plumb the full depths of Kevin's stupidity.
'So … you're interested in your own brother?' Kevin gave Sonny what he probably thought was a shrewd look. 'Isn't that, like, insectivorous or something?'
Meanwhile, another aspect of Sonny's announcement had caught Brittany's attention. 'Kevin Thompson, did you beat Sonny up?'
'But babe!' Kevin protested. 'He was messing with my girlfriend!'
'You big bully! He was not messing with me, he was helping me with a school project, and we got a B minus! which is more than I ever got on any project I did with you! Oooh, you …, you …, you—Kevin Thompson, we are through!' Brittany turned and stormed away, with Kevin in plaintive pursuit.
Tom cleared his throat. 'Who said live theatre was dead?'
'Yeah', said Sonny, 'quite a show, wasn't it? But I don't think I have the energy left for an encore.' He gestured at the door of the pizzeria. 'I don't think I'm up to spending the whole evening in there explaining to people that our relationship is only homosexual, not incestuous. Not that it wasn't fun messing with Kevin's head, but after the thirteenth time it might get old.'
'Okay. I understand. I know, let's bag the pizza place and go to my parents' club.'
Sonny gave Tom the hairy eyeball. 'You're not much for crafty strategising, are you?' But Tom's reply showed Sonny that he'd been withholding credit unfairly.
'Nobody knows you there. You can tell me the back story of that little performance we just had, which sounds worth hearing, instead of having everybody else fishing for explanations. Besides, they charge my folks for meals whether they eat them or not, so we might as well get their money's worth.'
Sonny still hesitated. 'Tom, as much as I'd like to help your family in their time of need …' He trailed off as the Fashion Club came walking past and one by one gave Tom an appraising look as they filed by him.
'Do they have cheddar fries?' Sonny said.
Being in the old-money establishment environment of the Winged Tree Country Club's dining room might mean there was nobody of Sonny's acquaintance fishing for explanations, but it also meant the presence of people Tom knew, specifically his parents and his sister Elsie. Sonny had just finished giving Tom the story of Kevin, Brittany, himself, and Ms Barch's project (fitting some more pieces into the larger background of the story of his life he had given Tom some time before), when the Sloanes came up to their table, and formal introductions and greetings followed. (Tom had told Sonny some time before that his parents had officially accepted his dating boys as well as girls. He suspected that they would prefer to believe that it was just an adolescent phase, but the best child psychiatrist in the State was an old family friend and frequent dinner guest at the Sloanes', and the Sloane parents had evidently adopted the view that, phase or no, acceptance was their best strategy. Elsie just enjoyed the opportunity to exploit it for facetious effect. She'd told Tom that if one of his ex-boyfriends ever married one of his ex-girlfriends, he'd make the ideal best man.)
'I just spoke with Aunt Mildred', Tom's mother informed him. 'She's made a lot of improvements on the house.'
Elsie offered a different perspective. 'She had the screen door fixed.'
'We always spend August at the cove with my great-aunt Mildred', Tom explained to Sonny. 'It's a kind of tradition.'
Elsie provided more colour commentary. 'In other words, we don't have a choice.'
Elsie's mother was cross with her, but Sonny was starting to think Elsie and he might not be totally at odds. Mr Sloane changed the subject to Sonny's summer plans. He was obviously trying to make things less awkward—how was he to know? As Sonny hesitated, Tom made a helpful intervention.
'Actually, Sonny's just going to relax. He's earned it—he made high honour roll all three trimesters.'
Unfortunately, Tom's mother chose to seize on that last incidental reference. She was puzzled because Tom's private prep school, Fielding, didn't have trimesters. Sonny had to explain. He was used to putting people off, in all sorts of ways—even solely by turning out to be a boy—but he'd never before done it just by being a public school student. Mrs Sloane was nonplussed.
'Oh', she said. After a moment, breeding told. 'Well, high honour roll is an achievement at any school.'
'Actually', Sonny said, 'at ours it just means you managed to stay out of prison all year.'
After an awful moment's pause Elsie gave more evidence that she and Sonny were on similar, if not identical, wavelengths, by bursting into laughter. Her parents joined in. Tom seemed to be relieved; Sonny, not so much. He didn't feel much better later, either, when they were sitting in Tom's car outside the Morgendorffer house and Tom was apologising for the family onslaught. Tom made light of the fact that he had not previously told his family about Sonny, but Sonny wasn't sure it felt like a light matter.
'I never tell them about anybody I'm dating, Sonny. Boy or girl.'
'Now I really feel special.'
'Well, you should. Because I like you.'
Sonny thanked him, because it seemed the thing to do, but by this point all he wanted to do was get out of the car. He had the door open before Tom could ask him to wait.
'I want to ask you … do you, you know … feel the same way about me?'
To himself, Sonny's affirmative response felt deeply unconvincing, but he detected no sign that Tom had the same reaction. Sonny said goodbye and got out of the car as quickly as he could, before anything else could happen.
He took one quick glance over his shoulder from the doorway. Tom's car … outside his house … he shook himself and went inside before Tom noticed.
Helen had become used to her son saying that he 'didn't date'. It wasn't the most important thing. He needed to make more contact with the outside world: once he'd done that, she'd always felt, he'd be better prepared to go further and actually date somebody, and there was still time for that.
So although it was a relief to find that there was a specific reason why he hadn't been interested in dating, which perhaps partly explained his almost relentlessly isolationist attitude, it didn't at all change her view that he needed more outlets. She hadn't changed that view when he had almost miraculously developed his friendship with Jane Lane. She knew it was an important friendship, and she was glad for Sonny, but it seemed to reinforce his isolationism more than not. It wasn't a good sign that Sonny's involvement with Tom had disrupted it, either. He couldn't rely on connecting with just one person.
And he certainly shouldn't be spending the whole of the school vacation sleeping in until one in the afternoon every day, and not emerging from his seclusion until the evening.
So when Sonny's teacher Timothy O'Neill rang the house looking for counsellors for his summer day camp, she had no hesitation giving him Sonny's name, despite her general reservations about the man. He hesitated. Of course he'd rather have had Quinn. Pretty much everybody would rather have Quinn than Sonny. Helen, knowing both of them intimately and feeling parental responsibility for the way they turned out, did not herself share the feeling, but she understood it. But she had already decided that since Quinn had unexpectedly suggested the idea of a tutor, she was not going to let anything else get in the way of that.
If O'Neill couldn't get Quinn, she suspected, he would still rather not have Sonny. Sonny was probably right about the connection between him and that Barch woman, with her vendetta against Sonny. But, more importantly, he lacked the firmness to disagree with anybody. Since the recent revelation about Sonny's sexuality, he would probably be anxious about confrontations with bigoted parents. So she turned his weakness to her advantage by implicitly threatening a confrontation about homophobia, and when she added the subtle hint of a possible anti-discrimination lawsuit, he caved in. Sonny, she knew, would be the one to put up more resistance.
She finally caught him when he came downstairs that evening and headed hastily for the front door. Of course he knew at once that she was waiting for him with intentions that he would find unpleasant—she'd expected him to be ready for that—and tried to fob her off with some ridiculous remark about a secret mission so that he could make his escape. But she held firm as she gave him what he no doubt thought of as the bad news. She didn't leave it open for discussion. He wasn't going to spend the whole summer locked up in his room, and that was that.
He protested flatly about being instead locked up with that man O'Neill and 'a busload of whiny kids', but thanks to long acquaintance she could read his voice and manner well enough to tell that the protest was only being lodged for the record and that he had given up hope of avoiding his fate. Still, he could stand a reminder about the issue.
'Sonny', she said, 'you need to be more tolerant. You know what they say. "Judge and be judged." '
'And I judge myself unfit for human contact.'
'That's exactly what you will be if you don't start engaging with the rest of us. You keep hiding your real face behind that anti-social mask and one day the mask will be your face. I'm not letting that happen. You're working at that camp.'
As she left the room she heard behind her his flat-voiced protest continue: 'What about my feelings? What about my rights?' and then, as she shut the door, 'What about my bribe?'
No bribe this time, Sonny, she thought. I'm not paying you to grow up. Despite everything, I think you're finally ready to do it for your own sake.
It wasn't exactly the best feeling she'd ever had. But they'd both made their beds, and now they both had to lie in them.
On the bus to Mr O'Neill's 'Okay to Cry Corral' (Sonny's teeth stung every time he thought of the name), Sonny would have thought that Mr DeMartino wanted to be there even less than he did. He just wasn't sure that was possible. Maybe DeMartino was less skilled at concealing it. That thought, as well as the children surrounding him, reminded Sonny of his own experiences of elementary and middle schools. He had acute memories even without the extensive notes he still kept on file.
O'Neill was leading his little victims in a bowdlerised version of 'This Old Man': 'With a nick-nack, gentle pat, give the dog a bone, This young person helps out at home.' When he tried to get the 'counsellors' (Sonny and DeMartino) to sing a verse with him, he received a barren response.
The omens were no better when they arrived at the 'corral' (surely the appropriateness of the word was inadvertent on O'Neill's part). 'Uncle Timothy' (as he depressingly described himself—who'd want that in their family tree) introduced himself, and his plans for a journey together to a land of self-discovery where it was okay to laugh and okay to cry. Sonny wondered whether 'Uncle Timothy' would think it 'okay to cry' for somebody getting beaten up by a juvenile goon a head taller.
All he knew was that it never helped, which was why he wasn't crying at what he heard O'Neill say—not even when he invited Sonny and 'Uncle Anthony' to say a few words about their goals.
'My goal', Sonny said, 'is to avoid serious injury. I already know what it's like to get beaten up by a middle-school bully, so the experience would lack the charm of novelty.' He turned to DeMartino to signal him to have his say.
'I'm hoping to rediscover the joys and satisfactions of teaching, and the motives that led me to pursue such a thankless … I mean, rewarding profession in the first place. At least that's what my doctor says I need to do before I incur a cerebral haemorrhage!'
O'Neill assumed his accustomed posture for 'taken aback' and chuckled nervously. He explained that he'd been referring to goals for the campers.
DeMartino pulled out an index card and read from it. 'To help make this a pleasurable experience for all. Let's learn to love ourselves together.'
Sonny said, 'I don't want any of the campers to get beaten up either.'
After a slight pause, O'Neill chuckled nervously again, and then divided them all into groups. Sonny went up to the table where his group was sitting and asked them whether they had anything to say before getting started. Some of them asked him personal questions about his appearance and demeanour—another experience without the charm of novelty. Instead of answering, he singled out a boy at the end who had folded his arms on the table and then buried his head in them—possibly some sort of kindred spirit.
'Um, how about you? Would you like to say anything?'
The boy raised his head, black-haired and bespectacled, as if the hinge in his neck needed oiling. When he spoke, his voice gave a similar impression.
'Is it fall yet?'
Jane's first introduction to the art colony had not been comfortable. She seemed to be the youngest person there—probably the only high-schooler there—and she had a feeling that the people she had met didn't take her seriously as a result. Or perhaps, although it wasn't what she wanted to be true, they were a bunch of posers who didn't take her seriously because she didn't know how to pose. She couldn't help wishing she could hear what Sonny would have said about them, although she pushed the thought away.
It didn't help that people seemed to be genuine about admiring Daniel Dotson, the guest artist and—as far as Jane could see—poser-in-chief. They even laughed at his jokes as he lectured them about a pathetic piece of conceptual art he had produced. When he asked them rhetorically about the thoughts that lay behind it, she couldn't stop herself from muttering some words to put in his mouth: 'I can't believe I'm getting away with this'. When somebody else in the audience (Paris, one of the women sharing Jane's cabin) responded to Dotson by shamelessly kissing up, calling him 'the greatest living artist of our time', Jane muttered another wisecrack about the lack of taste the woman was exhibiting. Sonny wasn't there to appreciate, but the young woman sitting next to Jane, who looked a little like Bif Naked, threw her a conspiratorial smirk. When another admirer asked Dotson where he got his inspiration, Jane's neighbour muttered, 'My alimony bills'. She and Jane shared a look of mutual understanding. They frowned in unison at the man's own response to the question about inspiration, a response which needed no comment beyond his own supposed-to-be-mock-modest conclusion: 'that's enough of the old windbag's ramblings for today'. Then, as the group broke up, the two of them exchanged introductions and Alison (that was her name) said, 'Our Mr. Dotson's really something, isn't he?'
'Well', said Jane, 'he certainly doesn't let substance get in the way of self-congratulatory yap.'
'At least we'll never have to worry about him intimidating us with his talent.'
Jane smiled, just a little, but for the first time since her arrival.
Tom said to Sonny, 'Maybe you should get some of that for the little campers.' They were at the Sloane house watching a story on Sick, Sad World about rats on Ritalin.
Sonny gave the suggestion the consideration it deserved. 'Ritalin, or the rats?' he said.
Further discussion was forestalled by the arrival of Tom's mother and sister. Elsie was carrying a garment bag which, according to what her mother said, contained a dress specially made for her by somebody she referred to only as 'Richard' for something uninvitingly called 'the Starry Night Ball'.
Mrs Sloane wanted Sonny to 'change his mind' about going, so that they could 'gang up and convince Tom'. Obviously she thought Sonny had turned down an invitation, but she'd never personally extended one to him, which could only mean that she thought it had been passed on through Tom. But it hadn't, so what should Sonny say? Just a beat too late to save Sonny from feeling as if he'd made himself look like a complete idiot, Tom apologised for forgetting to tell him about the event, a benefit for the Lawndale Art Museum. His mother described it as 'a lot of fun'. Sonny felt compelled to make some sort of response.
'Um', he said, for the third time since Mrs Sloane's arrival, and continued limply, 'sounds like it.'
'If you like watching ice sculptures melt', Elsie said. Sonny was almost starting to like her.
Tom explained that he'd turned down the invitation because these events were always 'excruciatingly dull and stuffy'. He was probably right, but Sonny wished Tom actually had mentioned it to him in advance instead of just saying he had. It might have saved him from saying 'um' a fourth time.
In the Morgendorffer household, Sonny could often count on his sister to distract attention from him to herself when things were getting awkward. In the Sloane household, Elsie and Tom sniped at each other more directly and more reciprocally, with accusations about 'quasi-rebelliousness' (Tom's, so Elsie said) and 'faux jadedness' (Elsie's, so Tom said). It made for an interesting change of pace—until their mother cut them off and told Sonny that she could invite his parents as well, 'if you think they'd be interested'.
What could Sonny say? 'Um … thanks.' Five—far and away a personal best.
Somebody was having a good time, though. Elsie took the opportunity to remind Tom of 'fireworks at the club'. Tom excused himself again and lied, 'I already told … promised Sonny I'd go with him to his friend's Fourth of July party.'
(The part about the friend, at least, was not intentionally false. Tom didn't know that Jodie Landon, being Jodie, would have invited everybody, friend or no.)
'Sonny', Mrs Sloane said, 'what can we do to get into your good graces?'
Sonny knew that 'Put me out of my suffering now' would not be a suitable response.
Another place where Sonny wanted to be put out of his suffering was the 'Okay To Cry Corral', but there the feeling was shared by everybody else bar one. O'Neill resisted the campers' clamour to swim in the lake, not despite the heat, but because of it, on the grounds of risking exposure to algal blooms. He insisted that they continued working on the construction of a craft project, encouraging them to attach sappy symbolic significance to the differently coloured lanyards.
A tragically ensnared DeMartino haplessly tried to follow O'Neill's example, but the only significant things he could think of to symbolise were failure, indignities, and frustration.
Sonny said, 'So continue threading the blue with the green until you've finished', adding, with a frankness born of indifference, 'or can't take the tedium any more.' Then he picked up his book and left them to it. Surprisingly, Link—the boy with the glasses, the one waiting for fall—was the first to get up and come over to him.
'Hey, Link', he said, 'need some help?'
'Nope. All done.' The boy dumped his finished product on the table in front of Sonny and slouched away. The thing looked like a rats' nest.
'It's been a lovely evening', Sonny lied to Tom, 'but I think I'm ready to go home now.' It wasn't that he minded being with Tom—it was all the other people at the Landons' Fourth of July party, and here came Brittany Taylor manoeuvring through the crowd towards them to prove it. Sonny hadn't seen her—naturally enough, and thank goodness—since she'd flounced away, with Kevin Thompson in her wake, after the encounter outside the pizzeria. Back view then, front view now—Sonny could still understand what other boys saw in her, but there was something psychologically positive about having an explanation and a justification for his own indifference. He was indifferent, also, to the discovery that Brittany seemed unaffected by the revelation of his sexuality.
'Hi, Sonny! Hi, Tom! It is Tom, right?' Brittany was unaccompanied, by Kevin or any substitute male, but her spirits seemed unlowered. Sonny had figured that her break-up with the quarterback would be as ephemeral as all their other break-ups, and the first words to bubble out of her after they returned her greetings tended to confirm it.
'Sonny, I've talked to Kevvy, and he's promised never to beat you up again, and to stop all the other boys on the football team as well, and he's going to apologise to you when he sees you again.'
'Please don't make him apologise. That would just be too much for me', said Sonny with perfect truth.
'Oh!' Brittany's eyebrows went up and her smile decreased in intensity for a moment before bouncing back, along with another part of her anatomy. After a moment to integrate the new information about Sonny's attitude, she decided that if Sonny didn't want an apology, it didn't matter if Kevin didn't give him one, particularly as she had already told Sonny that Kevin was sorry. Then she fidgeted as if anxious about something else she wanted to say.
Sonny saw no reason to give her any help.
Tom said, 'I don't think we've actually met before, or at least not properly.'
Sonny remained impassive. 'Brittany, Tom Sloane. Tom, Brittany Taylor.'
Brittany twirled a ringlet of hair around a finger. 'Um … I know it's not really any of my business, but I was trying to explain to Kevin and I got kind of confused. You know when we met outside the pizza place and you said you were only interested in boys?'
Maybe she hadn't understood after all. That seemed unlikely. Hadn't even Kevin cottoned on? 'It's not a secret, Brittany, if that's what you're wondering.'
'No, it's just that … I mean, you and Jane are always around together, so I wasn't sure …'
Sonny braced himself. 'When I said I was only interested in boys, what I meant was that I'm only attracted to boys, that I'm only interested in boys as people to date. I never did date girls. Jane and I were best friends, we were never dating. Jane's an interesting person, but I was never interested in dating her. Some people are only interested in dating girls, like … Kevin'—as Sonny said this, another example occurred to him—'or like Upchuck. And some people are only interested in dating boys, like me. Or like you, I suppose.'
Brittany shook her head. 'No—I mean, I thought I understood that part already. But … you said that to us when Kevin thought you two were brothers?' Her voice rose slightly in pitch as she twirled another ringlet around a finger on the other hand. 'So it sounded like you were hinting …'
'Yes', said Sonny, and looked at Tom.
'Yes', said Tom, 'we're dating.'
Brittany looked at Tom. 'But … I used to see you around with Jane, so I thought …' Brittany paused and wrinkled her forehead.
Tom nodded. 'That we were dating. You were right. Jane was my girlfriend. You see, Brittany, some people are only attracted to boys, and some people are only attracted to girls, but some of the people I find attractive are boys and some are girls. Is that the part you didn't understand?'
'Yes!' said Brittany, jiggling with relief. 'Only … does that mean that now you're dating Jane and Sonny?'
Tom sighed. 'No. Sometimes I date girls and sometimes I date boys, but I only date one person at a time. I was dating Jane before, but now we've broken up, and I'm just dating Sonny.'
'Oh!' Brittany performed another even more intricate ringlet twirl. 'Well, I hope Jane isn't too upset. If I broke up with Kevvy, or somebody, and then one of my best friends started dating him straight away, I'd be upset. I mean, I know you're a brain, Sonny, but sometimes we're all just human, or whatever.'
Credit where credit is due, Sonny thought, and said without affect, 'Brittany, you've really been thinking about this, haven't you? I guess now we have to think about it. Excuse us.' He took Tom by the arm and drew him away.
Before either of them could say anything more, they ran into their host (Jodie), just come down the stairs. She thanked Sonny for coming to her party and then turned to Tom and said, 'Tom Sloane, right? Jane's boyfriend?'
'Actually', Tom said with a fleeting glance at Sonny, 'we're just friends now.' Sonny exhibited no reaction to this economical use of the truth. Jodie, meanwhile, expressed disappointment at the news and hope for a reconciliation.
Tom moved an arm awkwardly and looked at Sonny, who plunged unhesitatingly into an explanation with computer-like exactitude. He wasn't naïve enough to expect Jodie to be free of all forms of bigotry just because she was herself a member of a discriminated-against minority: he expected Jodie not to be bigoted because she was Jodie. In fact, as he gave her the story, Jodie let just one smothered expression of surprise escape her and then bit her lip as if ashamed of the reflex. Before she could recover herself, her father approached them.
'Dad!' she said. 'You remember Sonny Morgendorffer. And this is Tom Sloane.'
Jodie's father had been giving Sonny a fishy look, but on hearing Tom's name his attention diverted.
'Sloane? You're not Angier's boy, are you?'
Tom did not attempt to deny it, and Mr Landon followed up by asking after his 'lovely mother'.
'You know my mother?' Tom said, which wouldn't have been Sonny's reflexive reaction to somebody who described Helen Morgendorffer as 'lovely'. But Andrew Landon made it clear (unconsciously) that his interest in Katherine Sloane was a result of her power, as a board member, over the Landons' membership application at the country club. Tom didn't seem entirely comfortable with the man's fawning effusiveness, but maybe he was used to things like that as part of his world—he didn't seem as displeased as Sonny, or as poor Jodie, who had been saved from one possible awkwardness by her father's arrival only to be plunged into another. It wasn't her fault. She wasn't the one trying to get into a country club.
Alison had persuaded Jane, against Jane's better judgement, to leave her room for one meal so that she could mingle with her 'fellow artists'. Alison insisted that they'd warm up to Jane if given a chance.
Jane inquired whether they were conversing across parallel dimensions.
Alison said, 'I'll bet you dinner I'm right.'
'You're on, sucker.'
Alison took Jane to a table with Paris, another woman from Jane's cabin called Jet, and a man Jane didn't recognise. The others made no objection when Alison and Jane sat down with them. Alison asked them for their opinion of the colony.
Jet found it 'freeing'.
Paris praised Daniel Dotson for his brilliance in describing one of her works as 'a stroke of inspiration'.
The man at the table took the opportunity to make an unnecessary remark about the other kinds of strokes Paris and Dotson had explored together, and capped it by saying, 'Oh, well, I suppose genius does have its prerogatives.
Jane expressed a moderate scepticism about the applicability of the term 'genius' to Daniel Dotson.
'No offence, Jane', lied Paris, 'but aren't you still in high school? How much can you know about art at this point?'
'Excuse me?' said Jane, and thought of Sonny.
Alison rose to Jane's defence, pointing out that she'd been accepted to the program on the basis of a portfolio of work just like everybody else. Paris apologised more or less graciously, but then she gathered up her tablemates to make their farewells and leave.
'Gee, that was fun. But in the future', Jane said to Alison, 'let's save time and just roll around on gravel.'
'Sorry about that. I guess I owe you one.'
What guessing? 'You owe me dinner.'
If Sonny had been a nicer person, he would have gone to the trouble of getting a second pair of ear defenders for Mr DeMartino. His own pair worked perfectly, so he had no idea what songs O'Neill was now leading on the bus, but he could see from DeMartino's expression that they weren't getting any less horrifying.
Things weren't getting any less horrifying when they got to the corral, either, where the cattle were developing more signs of cabin fever. Swimming already vetoed on account of algal blooms, now hiking was added to the proscribed list on account of poison ivy and ticks in the woods. There was no sign of such prospects scaring the children, but of course that made no difference to O'Neill.
(Sonny himself had no fond memories of outdoor activities from Camp Grizzly, but then, he had no fond memories of indoor activities from Camp Grizzly either.)
Reluctantly, the children continued the painting assignment they'd been given as a means of exploring the 'child within'. Only in the strange convolutions of the mind of 'Uncle Timothy' could it make sense to speak of a 'child within' when the subject actually was a child.
DeMartino had stopped to examine the work of Josh, whom Sonny had marked down at first sight as an ugly customer. He'd known more than enough Joshes over the years—of course with that type, as far as Sonny was concerned, one was more than enough. In answer to DeMartino's question, Josh explained that he'd painted a football player because football players, everybody knew, were winners.
'I see', said DeMartino, his inflamed eyeball doing a rumba. 'Obviously, your definition of a winner is a degenerate slacker with pigskin for brains, an unshakable desire to sleep through class, and a lifetime goal of excelling at arm noise contests while never, ever doing any honest work of any kind! Is that right?'
For once the truth of a hoary chestnut was seen: DeMartino stood up to the bully and the bully ran away. In tears, no less. Of course, that was no evidence the same technique would have been effective if employed by somebody the size Josh would choose to pick on.
O'Neill and DeMartino lacked the insight to realise this was the best thing that could have happened to Josh, and initially both were alarmed.
'I'm no good at working with young people!' DeMartino said. 'Why, oh, why did I ever think I could?'
The children, unlike the adults, were well aware of who was the worst bully at camp, and spontaneously began cheering for 'Uncle Anthony', who was so overwhelmed he could barely thank them.
Although Sonny had been interested to observe all this from the corner of his eye, he was still more concerned with Link, whose 'child within' had painted a dark figure crouched in the rain by a leafless tree. It was good art, though. It reminded him of Jane. Maybe she would have known what to say to Link.
Sonny kept brooding intermittently about Link for the rest of the day. That evening in his room his thoughts had him repeatedly looking up from his book and losing his place, so the phone call from Tom was no real interruption. But Sonny still wasn't in the mood to see him. He couldn't even be bothered coming up with a new excuse instead of continuing the pretence that he had a cold.
Tom offered to come round with soup and goldfish crackers, 'or real goldfish, if you prefer', but Sonny turned him down.
Tom dropped the light tone of voice. He was worried that things were not right with Sonny, especially as the Sloanes would be leaving for 'the cove' in a week, and wouldn't be back for a month.
'I know', Sonny said. 'Um', he said again, 'a month's not that long.'
Tom gracefully let it go. 'All right. Call me if you feel like getting out, okay?'
'Sure', said Sonny, and they hung up. But 'sure' was the last thing he was. About anything.
Although Sonny wasn't sure what to do about Link, O'Neill was. Sure but, inevitably, wrong. He had noticed, unsurprisingly, that Link wasn't enjoying himself, and had fixed on a course of action: have a one-to-one chat with Link and make things worse. Sonny didn't believe anybody could feel better after a one-to-one chat with 'Uncle Timothy'. Not even Ms Barch? No, not even Barch. They probably didn't spend their time together chatting. He shuddered.
He still wasn't sure what to do about the situation when Link came out of O'Neill's office making headlong for the exit from the corral, but he headed to intercept him anyway, leaving his other charges to keep up the 'good work'. 'Hey', he said, feeling almost as ineffectual as O'Neill, 'everything okay?'
At least he got a reaction. Link was still steaming. Perhaps he'd even told O'Neill off, not that that ever did any good.
'How can you stand this place?'
Sonny processed the question rapidly. 'I didn't know I did.'
Link gave the smart remark no response but a contemptuous stare.
Sonny said, 'I'm here under duress as much as you. I may be a guard instead of a prisoner, but I can't cut short your sentence—or my own. All I can do is give you a pass out on compassionate grounds. Want to go for a walk?'
'Outside? That would be dangerous.'
'Not as dangerous as keeping you in the same building as "Uncle Timothy" any longer without a break. A one-to-one chat with him is grounds for a compassionate pass for anybody. And I'll be with you. But there'll be no more talking. We'll go for two completely separate silent solitary walks, only in the same place.'
He opened the door and cocked his head at Link, who silently accepted his offer by walking out and looking back for Sonny to follow him.
Despite this sign of possible progress, Sonny still felt unsettled about the whole Link situation, although when they returned from their walk 'Uncle Timothy' gave them a highly anxious look (which was just gorgeous). And Sonny still felt unsettled about Tom and his family, as he was reminded by another phone call at home from Tom's mother, inviting the Morgendorffers directly to the 'Starry Night Ball'. Sonny's parents reacted positively—until they found out it would cost them a thousand dollars and had to invent an excuse. Sonny's mother worried that now the Sloanes would think them cheap.
'Who cares what they think?' Sonny said.
His mother was taken aback by the force of his reaction.
Sonny stood up. 'It's bad enough the rest of the town grovels at the Sloanes' feet. Now I have to put up with it in my own home?' he said, and walked out.
Alison had settled her bet with Jane without quibble, and after the dinner she'd bought for the two of them they'd gone back to Alison's cabin to look at some of her art. Jane could see it was good, too, no matter what the galleries thought.
They were having a good enough time that when Jane wanted to call it a night Alison pressed her to stay. But Jane was exhausted and started to leave.
Alison took Jane's arm and held her back. She suggested that given the amount of wine Jane had drunk she really ought to lie down.
'No, really, I'm fine', Jane said, and she really was—until Alison put her other arm around her and said, 'I promise not to kick you out of bed in the morning. Well, unless you're snoring.'
Jane violently shrugged off Alison's arms and stepped back. 'Oh, what now!' she said. 'Am I jinxed or something?'
Alison was taken aback by the force of this reaction, and Jane felt a little embarrassed. Up till now Alison had been nothing but nice to her, and it wasn't fair to get angry for what could be no more than an honest mistake, still less for events in Jane's past that Alison had nothing to do with. She tried to get her cool back and keep it, but she also stood her ground. The problem was the calm conviction with which Alison carried on as if she knew more about Jane's sexuality than Jane herself did. This might be the first time that Jane herself had been propositioned by somebody of the same sex, but it wasn't exactly the first time she'd had to deal with the whole issue personally. But the more Jane insisted that she knew she was exclusively heterosexual, the more Alison challenged her. She seemed to think it meant something that Jane had let a bisexual buy her dinner and then gone back to her bedroom with her.
'I didn't know you were bi', Jane said. 'And the dinner thing was settling a bet.'
'Sure … settling a bet. I'm sorry, baby, but I never hit on straight chicks.'
It was the 'baby' that did it.
'Right', said Jane, 'I'm a baby. I don't have the experience to know myself. Do you want to hear about my experience? Do you want to hear how I know myself? I've dated a bisexual. I've been dating one all year. A bisexual guy, because I'm only interested in guys, because he may be bi but I'm straight. And you know how we broke up? He went behind my back with my best friend. My best friend who's also a guy. Because it turns out my guy best friend is gay, and he didn't even know it, but I guessed a year before he did! I didn't say anything to him, though, because I figured it wasn't up to me to lay down the law to somebody else about what his sexual identity was, no matter how well I knew him! So, what do you think now? Do you think I have enough experience of gay vibes to know what I'm talking about when I tell you I'm straight?'
Alison took a step back and raised her palms towards Jane. 'I'm sorry', she said, looking into Jane's eyes, and then dropped her gaze.
'Yeah, well, you should be. And maybe some other people should be as well.' Jane shut the door firmly behind her and started jogging back towards her own cabin, her fists carving the air and her feet gouging the ground.
O'Neill had everybody sitting in a circle so that he could ask them to hold hands and visualise 'trust'. The children still wanted to go outside, and when O'Neill wouldn't consider it, they appealed to 'Uncle Anthony' to intervene. He made a valiant effort, but with no greater success than theirs. At that precise moment, an alarm beeped to remind O'Neill to take his echinacea. As he left the room for it, he again asked them to hold hands.
When DeMartino followed this instruction, his hands acquired from his neighbours' a coating of peanut butter. The dam burst. Ranting in fury, he rose to his full height, grasped the nearest heavy object—which happened to be a washbasin—ripped it free, and hurled it through a large plate-glass window. 'I'm going on a hike!' he shouted, and climbed to freedom, followed by an eager procession of cheering campers.
Only Link was left behind with Sonny.
'Come on', Sonny said to him. 'Even I'll admit that was mildly amusing.'
'Whatever.'
Sonny looked at Link and remembered when he was about the same age.
'Sixth grade was the worst year for me', he said. 'I remember one week when I got beaten up eleven times. That's only talking about the actual physical violence, though. There's also hiding my glasses or my backpack, breaking my things or just stealing them, spoiling my food, tying my shoelaces together, phoney messages from teachers about errands to run and other tricks like that … add it all together and third grade was the worst year. It got less every year after that. And the actual beatings got fewer every year after sixth grade. In fact, the last time was nine months ago, which still pretty much amazes me.'
'And now your life is one big bowl of cherries.'
'No, it still pretty much sucks a lot of the time. But school pretty much sucks for everybody.'
Link pulled a face. 'And did your mother throw your father out for being a jerk and then marry an even bigger jerk? And do your parents pay other people to deal with you because they're too busy "listening to their souls"?'
'No', Sonny said. 'My parents are still together, which I suppose I should be grateful for. Although if they did split up, maybe I'd get to live with one of them and my sister would go with the other. Do you have a sister who's the most popular girl in the school and doesn't want anybody to know you're related because it might harm her status?'
Link shook his head.
'Did you ever get beaten up eleven times in one week?'
Link made no response. Then he pointed and said, 'What's the book you're reading?'
Sonny picked it up and held it out to Link. 'Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka. You might like Kafka. What sort of things do you read?'
At that precise moment, O'Neill came back into the room. 'Oh!' he said. 'A little one-on-one session! That's … uh … of course it's good to "rap", right? But … not that I want to suggest anything in any way improper, or disrespect anybody's rights, but'—and here he paused again and laughed nervously—'maybe, Sonny, we should be thinking how our behaviour might be seen and interpreted by other people, people who have their own perspective, which we have to respect, even if some might consider it not as broad-minded …'
Before O'Neill could ramble on any further, three strangers came into the room, strangers impressive for their formal attire and severe demeanour, which immediately discouraged continuation of previous conversations.
To O'Neill's complete and final discomposure, they were Federal agents come to arrest him.
When they'd completed the necessary legal routine, two of them took O'Neill outside. The third and apparently most senior lingered to address Sonny.
'Jacob Morgendorffer, Junior?' he said.
'Yes, but everybody calls me Sonny.'
'Well, Sonny, thanks again for your tip-off. We picked up the Barch woman this morning as well, and we think we've got all the evidence we need against both of them, but we'll be in touch to let you know. In the meantime, about this day camp—is there a responsible adult to take charge?'
'There's an adult', Sonny said. 'Mr Anthony DeMartino, he's a history teacher at Lawndale High. He took all the other kids out on a hike just before you got here.'
'That's good to know. I was ready to make any necessary arrangements with appropriate agencies, but if I can rely on this Mr DeMartino, I can get back to more important things. Only … do you know when he'll be back? There are often regulations about supervisory ratios for children in situations like this.'
'I think I know somebody who'd be more than happy to come and take Mr O'Neill's place. If it would set your mind at rest, would you like to wait just a few minutes while I make a phone call?'
The agent followed Sonny into the office and waited while he located the correct number and made the call.
'Ms Onepu?' Sonny paused for a moment to listen. 'Ms Onepu, this is Sonny Morgendorffer. There's a Federal agent here who'd like to talk to you about the welfare of some children.' He handed the receiver to the man.
As the telephone conversation continued—Sonny sensed Onepu's torrent of language was having a predictable effect on her interlocutor—Link got Sonny's attention, lowered his voice, and said, 'Did you just get "Uncle Timothy" arrested?'
'I think you can stop calling O'Neill "Uncle" in the circumstances. And you were here when he got arrested and saw for yourself', Sonny said flatly.
'And they said you tipped them off', Link hissed.
'All right', Sonny said. He looked round to make sure the Federal agent wasn't overhearing him. 'I bugged his phone. Can we please not talk about this? Don't make me beg, it would humiliate both of us.'
Link shook his head. 'Wow', was all he said.
The senior Federal agent, whose name Sonny had never got, finished his phone call at just that point, and made a welcome interruption.
'Your Ms Onepu will be here shortly. Is everything under control until then?'
Sonny nodded and the man silently shook his hand, returned his nod, and left. Sonny and Link went back out of the office into the activities room and sat down.
After a moment, Link asked Sonny to explain what O'Neill had been making such a fuss about just before they came to arrest him.
'Oh, that', Sonny said. 'He would have been worried about getting in trouble for letting me spend so much time alone with you. That's because of my being gay.'
Link leapt from his seat. 'What?' His voice and his body quaked with emotion. 'You just stay away from me from now on! Just stay the hell away!'
Thinking she'd found a friend and then finding she hadn't made things even worse for Jane than they were to begin with. Maybe Daniel Dotson was no worse than before because of her disappointment, but she felt it more. She could feel it coming out in her paintings.
The colony was a small place, and inevitably she and Alison had to chance across each other again. They exchanged wary greetings.
'Look, I gotta be honest', Jane said. 'All that stuff I said to you … maybe you didn't deserve to be blamed for stuff you had nothing to do with.'
'Basically you were right, though', Alison said. 'I shouldn't have tried to tell you who you were. Maybe I was hoping a little too hard and saw something that wasn't there.'
'So you hit on a straight chick after all. I guess now you know what that's like.'
'First time for everything. Still want to be friends?'
Jane shrugged, and then nodded, but when Alison stepped forward to hug her, Jane stepped back. Alison dropped her arms and looked awkward.
Jane tried to change the subject by warning Alison of the approach of Daniel Dotson, who was just then coming towards them. but the way he and Alison spoke to each other made it look as if the meeting was expected, and the way he pinched her bottom before going to wait for her in his car sent an even clearer message.
Jane was incredulous, and reminded Alison of the damning things she'd said about Dotson before, but Alison only protested that all she was looking for was a little fun.
Jane suggested that the possibility of a few introductions to gallery owners might have been an additional attraction. She was starting to suspect how the art world really worked.
'God', said Alison, 'high school. It's all such a big deal with you guys. You take everything so seriously.' She walked away from Jane, this time for good.
Jane answered the empty air. 'Like people saying you give off gay vibes just because they're trying to get into your pants.'
The campers at the 'Okay To Cry Corral' were happy about the way 'Uncle Anthony' ran it after the removal of 'Uncle Timothy' (missed by nobody). DeMartino had been elevated by what was, candidly, little short of adulation: he had rediscovered the hunger to enlighten which had first made him want to be a teacher. Onepu had exhibited some of her usual anxieties about risks to the children, which had gained her no friends, but she had quickly been won over by DeMartino's new-found confidence and the unmistakable delight of the campers. And Sonny was not in the least surprised by the steadfast way Link cold-shouldered him up to the very last day.
He was also not in the least surprised at the continued friction between himself and Tom. Once his obligations at camp had been discharged he had given in to one of Tom's repeated invitations and agreed to go out with him the evening before he left for his month at 'the cove' with Aunt Mildred. When Tom arrived to pick Sonny up, Sonny mother renewed her high-energy grovelling, excusing herself and her husband for their inability to attend the thousand-dollar-a-ticket fund-raiser. When they'd got out of the door and were walking to the car, Tom tried to make light of it, but Sonny saw no reason to hold back his unhappiness about the situation. He personally didn't care that the Sloanes moved in circles the Morgendorffers could never afford, but it rankled him that his parents had to be so humiliatingly reminded of it.
It also rankled him that Tom was keeping him away from the Sloane family by not inviting him to events like the fund-raiser or the fireworks display at their club. Tom repeated his original explanation that he hated events like that himself and assumed Sonny would share his attitude. Sonny couldn't deny the force of this, but he thought Tom should have asked him just the same.
'You're right', said Tom, adroitly cutting Sonny's legs out from under him. Sonny still suspected that the real reason was that Tom expected his parents not to approve of Sonny, but Tom had an answer for that.
'If you mean, because you're a boy, then you're just going to have to accept what I told you before. This isn't the first time I've dated a boy. It isn't the first time my parents have known that I'm dating a boy. It's not even the first time my parents have known that I've dumped a girl in favour of a boy. If anything, they're probably happier about you than they were about Jane.'
Sonny stopped short before reaching the kerb. 'So now there's something wrong with Jane, is there?'
'I didn't say that! I know Jane's cool! I'm the one who dated her, if you remember.'
'Now you mean there's something wrong with me, not being attracted to her. I suppose you think it's a choice.'
Tom' s voice rose. 'Dammit, Sonny, I didn't say that, either! You could give me a chance to explain! All I meant was that Jane's family wouldn't care whether she went to graduate school or dropped out now! Look at Trent, for instance. Whereas my parents know that you're really smart and that you're sure to be heading for a top college, just like what they're planning for me.'
Sonny's voice dropped. 'Whereas the Lanes aren't up to Sloane snobbish standards.'
Tom's hands jerked out sideways with frustration. 'I can't win with you, can I? Will you just quit trying to pick a fight with me?'
'Excuse me?'
Tom made an effort to get his voice back under control. 'You're complaining about unrealistic standards, but what about yours? My mother fails them for giving your mother an invitation to something, but I fail them because I didn't. You imagine that my parents might not approve of you, solely because of that I explain why they do approve of you, and that makes us snobs.'
'I'm sorry if you don't like it when I'm loyal to Jane.'
'What I don't like is that you won't admit what's really bothering you, which is that actually caring about somebody might make you vulnerable.'
Sonny took a step backward. 'Maybe we aren't ready for this. Maybe we need to take a break.'
Tom shook his head. 'Maybe we aren't ready? How am I not ready? Not ready for what? Take a break from what? Come on, Sonny, what are you talking about?' He stared at Sonny, and Sonny tensed up as he waited for what came next. 'Well, I'm not going to stand here and beg for a response.' Tom walked to the driver's door, started to get into the car, and paused halfway to look at Sonny again. Sonny stood mute. 'Fine', Tom said, 'nice knowing you', and then sat down, hit the top of the steering wheel once with his left fist as he gripped it with his right hand, then reached out to shut the door, started up, and drove off.
When his tail lights had disappeared, Sonny unclenched. 'Yeah', he said, 'nice knowing you.'
He got back into the house and up to his room without his parents noticing. Then he lay on the bed arguing to himself that he'd done the right thing. He and Tom were from different worlds. It just couldn't work. I mean, he thought, unless I tried or something. He didn't feel good. Sonny Morgendorffer is feeling low. And, in other news, doctors hold out little hope for improvement in Queen Anne's condition.
To his relief (what? his what?), Quinn interrupted him, entering the room without even knocking—and even that didn't provoke him into a cutting remark. Her excuse was that she was returning a book to him, but like most of her excuses it wasn't much good—the book didn't come from him but from her tutor. As if Quinn would ever forget which male had given her something, even if only as a temporary loan. So what was the real reason Quinn had come into his room? Why, to open up a conversation about that very same tutor. Not the most skilful manoeuvre, but not too bad for a tyro.
Why would Quinn think Sonny's opinion of the man was worth having, though? Sonny had only met him briefly. Anybody who was persevering with tutoring Quinn must have an unusual ability to tolerate pain, that was all Sonny could say.
Quinn wanted to know whether Sonny thought the tutor was 'cute'.
'Quinn, just because gay boys and straight girls are both interested in boys doesn't mean we're going to be interested in the same boys. My ideas of "cute" aren't necessarily going to be the same as yours.' Sonny stood up. 'Let's try to nip this in the bud. Look at the way I dress. Has it changed since I figured out that I'm gay? Have I adopted your ideas about the importance of appearance?'
Quinn seemed to be starting to get the point. Sonny went on to mention some of the other things, apart from appearance, that could contribute to a successful relationship, compatible qualities of character and personality.
Quinn interrupted. 'Like you and Tom.'
Sonny was irritated. He hadn't been talking about Tom, and he didn't want to talk about Tom. But Quinn insisted that they were a highly compatible couple.
'Quinn, this is what we've been talking about. Just because you and I are both attracted to boys doesn't mean we're attracted to the same ones or in the same way. Don't start telling me you know this stuff about me.'
'Gay or straight, Sonny, it's still dating, and that's been my major field of study for years.'
'Maybe', Sonny said. He scratched behind his ear. 'But you haven't met the Sloanes.'
'You can't judge people by their families. That would mean people could judge me by …' Quinn did a double-take. 'Got to go', she said, and left the room.
Sonny shook himself. He had to have somebody he could actually talk with. He picked up the phone and dialled.
As soon as Jane answered, he remembered how they'd parted and apologised for calling, but she sounded almost enthusiastic to hear him. Granted, enthusiasm came more naturally to her than to him, but still … He took the risk of asking her how things were going.
'Fine, fine, fine', she lied. 'Couldn't be better.'
'Sucks, huh?'
'Well, out of all the people here I did meet one who wasn't mind-numbingly pretentious, but she turned out to be a manipulative, opportunistic lech.'
The gender of the pronoun did not escape Sonny's attention. 'You're not kidding.'
'As much as I'd like to gain your sour perspective on the whole sordid incident, I don't think this is the way or the time to talk about it.'
'In that case, what if I did something like, oh, I don't know, dropped by for a friendly chat?'
'Look, I don't really feel like any visitors right now. It's nothing personal.'
Sonny took a deep breath. 'Not even a visitor who can give you the exclusive inside dope on how the Feds busted Mr O'Neill?'
There was a brief silence at the other end of the line before Jane answered. 'Okay, now you're the one who's not kidding.' She gave a brief snort of suppressed amusement before continuing. 'Trent was going to drop by on his way to a gig. Maybe you can hitch a ride. They can always use an extra person to push.'
It was not in Sonny's nature to punch the air in triumph.
Hanging out with Trent was okay, too (the rest of Mystik Spiral spent most of the trip dozing in the back of the Tank, which was probably just as well). Not so okay, perhaps, was the bit where Trent's pulling a chocolate bar out of his back pocket caused the Tank to start driving on both sides of the highway at once but even that was still a more relaxing experience than it might have sounded because he was sitting next to Trent. And Trent was the one person he could really talk to about what had been happening between himself and Jane, and the whole Tom thing. It hardly mattered that Trent had few actual words to contribute to the conversation.
'Hey, Janey knows you guys didn't mean to hurt her. She'll come around. Trust me.'
'Yeah. Thanks, Trent.'
Of course, just to remind Sonny of the limitations of human beings in general as company, Trent had to continue by starting to compose a lyric about betrayal. At first Sonny felt generous enough to help Trent out finding rhymes, but by the time they reached their destination he had been driven to the point where he told Trent that he wasn't helping.
Trent said, 'Oh.' Then he said, 'Sorry'. After another pause, 'Um, you know how it is', he continued. 'Inspiration.'
Another good thing about talking with Trent. Now Sonny was ready to talk with somebody else.
They left the rest of Mystik Spiral sleeping in the Tank and walked towards the cabin where Jane was staying. Trent gave Sonny some more reassurance. Apparently Jane had told him she thought Sonny and Tom made a good couple.
Sonny could not blame Trent for being unaware that he was saying that Quinn and Jane had been in agreement. He tried to banish that thought from his mind by telling Trent that he and Tom had broken up. Trent was surprised enough to ask about the reasons.
By this time they had reached the door of the cabin. As Trent knocked, Sonny fumbled for an answer to his question, and ended up by saying, 'Mainly I got weirded out by his family.'
'But you weren't dating them', said Trent.
Before Sonny's brain had to start dealing with agreement between Quinn and Trent, Jane opened the door. He was glad to see her.
The three of them exchanged greetings, then went inside. Jane showed them around the cabin and they chatted briefly. Then Trent excused himself to go and wake up his bandmates.
Sonny told Jane the whole O'Neill story. Jane told Sonny the whole Alison story. Sonny told Jane the whole Link story, mentioning how Link's art had reminded him of Jane. Jane showed Sonny some of her recent paintings.
'Some day the curators will look back on these and say they're from my "art colonies suck" period.'
'Yeah', said Sonny, 'this is the kind of stuff Link painted.'
'This Link situation is really bothering you.'
Sonny nodded. 'Unlikely as it sounds, I thought there was a moment where I might get through to him. He was impressed about the O'Neill bust. But I guess I can't expect it to make no difference to anybody.'
Jane shook her head. 'Yeah, I think it's always going to make a difference to some people. Look, why don't we go to the Mystik Spiral gig? The music will remind you that you already knew how ugly life can get.'
The venue, when they got there, had a similar effect. As they stood around chatting while they waited for the performance to begin, Sonny finally got around to telling Jane that he'd broken up with Tom.
Jane's response was to make it clear that Sonny shouldn't expect any sympathy from her, given the past history. From that point, their discussion entered into a labyrinth of conflicting interpretations of that past history. Sonny was never able afterwards to reconstruct in his head just what the sequence of utterances was, but they disagreed about who had hurt whose feelings when by doing what, and about which actions had had what significance, until his head was spinning.
'I'm confused', he said. 'What are we fighting about here?'
'We're fighting about you, Sonny Morgendorffer, being dumb enough to think a boyfriend is worth screwing up a really good friendship for. A really important friendship.'
Sonny wasn't sure that was what had happened, not exactly—but maybe it was. He had done the wrong thing to start with, he knew that, and he had hurt Jane by doing so, he'd never denied it, and everything that happened after that—well, maybe he had been as dumb as Jane said. He was the one who had risked screwing up a really good friendship over a boyfriend when Jane had started going out with Tom. He sure couldn't say he was an expert on what had happened. And supposing it possible he had been that dumb—and it was possible—well, then …
'I'm sorry if I did that.' It was the least he could say. Was it enough? 'Um', he continued, 'I really missed you this summer.'
'Well, I really missed you too', said Jane. What Sonny had said had been enough. 'And I'm sorry about what happened with Link. That really sucks.'
'I'm sorry about what happened with Alison. That really sucks, too.' Especially, Sonny thought, on top of all that other stuff, but he decided it would be wiser not to say so. What they needed at this point was a distraction to change the subject—which providentially materialised in the form of Trent passing them on his way to the stage. They teamed up to tease him. It was good to be tandem again. Trent told them they were weird. That was good too.
When Trent had moved on, Jane asked Sonny to tell her what he had missed most about her. He told her that it was her 'damn aura'.
'My aura? When did you start talking like that? Are you trying to fill the gap that O'Neill's going to leave in our lives when he goes to the big house?'
'I don't know whether he'll end up actually doing time.' Sonny shrugged. 'But I guess he's not coming back to Lawndale High.'
'Yeah, it's strange to imagine.' Jane nodded thoughtfully. 'I almost feel like I'm going to miss him.'
'No you won't.'
'No, I won't.'
'But getting back to your question, I thought of you out here all summer, with your art and your humour, just being Jane Lane still, and I realised it's because you know exactly who you are, and that makes you exactly the role model that I needed this summer, when I was questioning everything I said and did.'
Jane grinned and nodded. 'You know, you're absolutely right about me.'
With a sudden electric rush, Sonny felt himself returning to normal. 'Shall I attempt further heights of ego-inflation?'
'Please do.'
Before he could, they were interrupted by a burst of feedback from the speakers, followed by Trent's voice saying, 'Hey. We're Mystik Spiral. And this one's for Sonny and Jane.'
Sonny wasn't thrilled by the idea of having a Mystik Spiral song dedicated to them. 'I hope it's not "I Will Survive" ', he said, with a fleeting glance at Jane.
'Oh, please make it "Wind Beneath My Wings" ', was Jane's response.
A moment later, the Mystik Spiral lyrics rolled over them, and although Sonny struggled to blot them out, he couldn't stop some of the words getting through: 'When [something something], when the bummers bum, we'll still be freakin' friends! When the whip comes down, [something something] freakin' friends! Freakin' friends! Freakin' friends! Till we come to bad ends, we're freakin' friends! Freakin' friends! [something something] …'
Sonny looked at Jane for a moment and caught her looking back at him. Truly, it was as Max the drummer had once said: 'You go up against the Spiral, they're going to take you down!'
Before the time had come for the Spiral's (and Sonny's) departure, the 'freakin' friends' had reached the point where Sonny could talk with Jane about his break-up with Tom and the 'upper-crustiness' that had driven it, and Jane could point out to him that the Sloanes weren't actually jerks, and the silver lining of their 'incredibly well-stocked refrigerator'. More importantly, Sonny could invite Jane to come back with them, and also not take it personally when Jane had what she herself admitted was some dumb notion of seeing the art colony program through to the end. 'Anyway', she pointed out, 'it's just another two weeks and then we'll be back at school!' She realised what she had said. 'Wait … what's my point?'
Sonny helped her out. 'That life sucks no matter what, so don't be fooled by location changes.'
'You really should write fortune cookies.'
They made their farewells, agreeing that Jane would call Sonny when she got back to Lawndale, and then Jane started back to her cabin only to stop and turn to say, 'Um, I don't believe I'm about to say this, but … you should give Tom another shot. He's not a bad guy. And you could use the recreation.'
'Um', said Sonny, feeling less bad about it because this time Jane had said it first, 'is this a final exam, just to see whether I'm still dumb enough to risk screwing up a really important friendship for a boyfriend?'
'No, I think I finally am over that thing about you and Tom going behind my back.'
'Yeah, right.'
Jane made a cryptic gesture with one hand. 'I know I kind of said I was over it before, when actually I was still under it, but … you could give it some thought on the ride back.'
'I don't think so.'
'Or converse with the band.' Jane grinned. 'The choice is yours.'
The moment Sonny realised he was back to normal was when he was back in Lawndale, in his bedroom, reading, and Quinn made another uninvited unexplained entry. Without missing a beat, he told her that her sandals did not make her toes look fat.
Quinn wasn't back to normal, though. She took Sonny's remark as confirmation of something her tutor had said about her superficiality. Of course, it was true that Sonny's point had been that Quinn was shallow and superficial, but he'd been telling her that for about ten years and she'd never reacted the way she was reacting now. As far as Sonny could see, being shallow and superficial was just Quinn playing to her strengths. This time, though, Quinn seemed to be about to break down, just because some brainy egghead had told her that he only dated girls with 'depth'.
Sonny was puzzled. 'How did it even come up?'
Quinn didn't answer in words, but the evidence of seismic strain in her expression increased.
Sonny felt a blow from the clue stick. 'Oh, boy. You asked him out?'
Silent weeping.
Had Sonny had tears on his face, that day when Quinn found him on the couch and helped him out of it? He had no idea. Maybe he'd wept, maybe he hadn't.
'Quinn, I don't take back anything I've ever said to you about your shallowness, but it's not the whole truth about you. It's something you use, like armour, or like a mask, so you can fit in, to protect yourself.'
'You mean, sort of like the way you keep people away to protect yourself by being really unfriendly and stuff?'
'Don't change the subject', Sonny said automatically, although he had to admit to himself that it wasn't a shallow or superficial thing to say. After a moment, he went on, 'You really liked him, huh?' Quinn nodded. 'Was it because of his looks?' Quinn pulled a face and shook her head. 'Well, then, if you could see past that—it means that mask you wear most of the time still isn't the face of the real Quinn.'
Quinn wiped away the tears. 'Thanks, Sonny.' She sniffed. 'Damn it, I even told him I liked him! I never do that!'
'Well, that wasn't a shallow or a superficial thing to do.' Sonny scratched behind his ear. 'Quinn, there was a boy at that stupid day camp I had to go to who was having a really rough time. His parents were jerks who didn't want to know him. I thought if maybe I could get talking with him it might help a little. And just when I thought I might be getting through to him, he decided he didn't want to know me at all.'
'Why?'
'Because I'm gay.'
'Oh.' Quinn winced.
'Sometimes people slap you in the face. But you have to keep reaching out to them. You have to give them a chance.'
Quinn sighed. 'I wish David had given me a chance.'
'The way I heard it, he did. Isn't that right? He was going to quit because you weren't paying attention to the tutoring, so you told him you'd apply yourself properly and he gave you another chance? And then you learned a bunch of stuff and found out you don't have to be a dummy if you don't want to.'
Quinn stood in silence digesting everything. Then she shook herself and looked at Sonny, noticing that he was watching her. 'Oh!' she said, 'I must look a mess! I have to go and clean up now.' She left the room hurriedly.
'How did I come up with all that crap?' Sonny said to the empty air. 'I have to be more careful about the people I listen to.'
Tom knew the route Sonny and Jane normally took on their way home from school, so he took a chance and cruised along it in time to catch them on the afternoon of the first day back. He was encouraged to see that they were walking together. He'd always thought it would be hard to split those two up for long.
Jane spotted him first, even though she hadn't seen his new car before. (Well, his slightly-less-old-and-rusty-than-the-previous-one car. He'd had to accept his grandmother's latest discarded Jaguar after the incident the previous spring when his parents had his old Pinto towed away in the middle of the night.) 'Whoa!' Jane said as he pulled up. 'Nice car. Where's Jeeves?'
'I killed him for his uniform. How are you doing?' he said to be polite, although her attitude had already given him the most important information.
'I'm okay', she said. Then she tipped her head to indicate Sonny. 'He's pretty okay, too.'
'Yeah', said Tom, 'I know that.' He exchanged greetings with Sonny and then offered him a ride. Sonny hesitated, looking at Jane as if concerned about plans they might have that Tom might be interrupting. The way Jane looked at Sonny told Tom everything else he needed to know. She gave her friend a light-hearted farewell, promising to call him later, and left.
Sonny turned to Tom. He did look pretty okay. Tom opened the door for him, and they drove the few blocks to the Morgendorffers', casting brief appraising glances at each other on the way. Tom stopped the car in front of the house. Sonny thanked him for the ride and started to excuse himself, half-turning towards the door, but when Tom asked for a hearing, Sonny returned to a seated position with what, for him, amounted to alacrity.
Tom had spent some time preparing in his head what he was going to say. 'There's nothing I can do about the club, my family, the whole thing. And yes, I can see where all of that could make you uncomfortable.' He paused for a response and Sonny thanked him. So far, so good.
Tom moved on to the next point. 'But would you also agree that maybe I was right when I said this dating stuff is new to you, and you're afraid of getting hurt, and maybe you were looking for an out before you got too pulled in?' He paused again, but this time Sonny didn't respond. Tom knew he was on the edge of a minefield, but he couldn't see any choice but to go on, as cautiously as he knew how. 'And … well, there's something else that's still a bit new to you, beyond just the fact of dating in general? I mean, I've seen that you've got no hesitation about announcing your new identity to the world, no matter how they're going to react, but I know that doesn't necessarily mean you've adjusted to the novelty of it yourself. I don't want to come off sounding like a know-it-all about this, because I don't know it all, but do you think you could give me credit for knowing something?'
Sonny muttered something that Tom didn't catch. 'Sonny?' he said quietly.
Sonny repeated himself. 'Maybe some of what you said is true.' He took a deep breath and looked Tom in the eye. 'And, maybe, you know, a little from Column A and a little from Column B. Perhaps.' He glanced away again.
Tom said, 'So, do you think you're ready to try again? Do you think you could give it a fair chance this time? Because I really think it could be worth persevering if you're prepared to make the effort with me.' He looked Sonny in the eye again. 'Please?'
Sonny nodded once slowly and then twice more vigorously.
Tom settled back into his seat. 'But don't turn sentimental on me now, okay?'
'Who, me? My identity hasn't changed that much.' Sonny took another deep breath. 'Okay, then. I feel good about this. See ya.' Sonny opened the car door to get out.
Tom leaned forward to start the car again, and was completely blindsided to find Sonny's arms around him, not even having realised that Sonny had leapt back into the car. As they kissed he thought, Yes. Definitely worth persevering.
Some dialogue from 'Through A Lens Darkly' by Glenn Eichler, 'Speedtrapped' by Sam Johnson and Chris Marcil, and 'Is It Fall Yet?' by Glenn Eichler and Peggy Nicoll
