When I said this was the last update for a while I lied. Oops.
This isn't a new chapter, though. This is chapter 16- I uploaded it wrong or something and it came out all smooshed. I got a call from one of my friends ("Caroline, you know how you always say that you're going to kill the next person who smooshes everything together on fanfiction.net?" "Uh, yeah. . . " "Well. . . ") letting me know that I screwed up. Now, I have no Internet connection at my mom's, so what I had to end up doing was walking over to the middle school, which had let out about a half hour previously, going up to one of the teachers I was really close to in eighth grade (and who I live almost next-door to now) and BEGGING him to drive me to the library. . . so if the spacing comes out pretty over-the-top, it's because I didn't want anyone to have to sort through this huge block of text.
I heart everyone!!! Review my story!! THANKS!
Chapter 16
It appeared to Chris that train rides, as you get more and more experienced, do not get
easier.
On a train to Portland, the rickety takeoff still startled him. The hurtling speed still threw
him. And the repetitiveness of it all still made him restless. He made a vow never to ride a
train again.
Leaving New York had been hard. Lea had been in tears at the train station, after
promising herself in the taxi the two had shared on the way there that she wouldn't cry.
Thankfully, she hadn't made a scene, but a little bit of Chris had still died when she had
started to cry.
He'd had considerably more baggage coming home than he'd had when he'd first arrived
in New York. He'd stepped off the train with two bags to his name, and he was coming home
with five. One of them, a small carryon, had Gordie's Christmas gift in it.
Christmas gift. Could it really be that Christmas was only a week away? It was December
seventeenth- almost a month had passed since Chris had made the scrapbook, but a shiver of
excitement still went through him whenever he looked at it, thinking of Gordie's reaction.
He had almost no desire to look around him. There were about ten people in his
compartment, it looked like. The man next to him looked vaguely familiar, but then, so did
everyone in a city as big as New York. His head seemed to grow heavier and heavier as the
hours passed, until finally, unable- and unwilling- to hold it up any longer, he dropped his
head onto his shoulder and fell asleep.
"Where are you headed?" an attendant asked, poking him awake. He snorted and
checked his watch.
"Uh, Greenview," he murmured sleepily. "Where are we?"
"Boise," she said sweetly.
"That's in. . . like. . . Idaho. . . "
"Yessir," she said, smiling. "That it is. I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to
wake up halfway to Greenview and realize you should have gotten off an hour ago."
"Thanks," he said gratefully. "I probably *would* have slept through it."
She laughed. "We get that a lot, but it's never happened on my shift. I don't want to
start now."
"I don't blame you." He smiled and stretched. "If I fall asleep again, wake me when
we get to Greenview, will you, love?"
She blushed. "Of course, sir," she said, laughing timidly at being addressed as "love"
by this tall, handsome stranger and scurrying back to the front of the train.
"You still got it, Chambers," he muttered to himself, and the man next to him burst
out laughing. "I remember being that young," the man said, smiling. The man still looked
incredibly familiar, although Chris couldn't place him. . . until. . .
"Mr. Cave? No way!"
"Yes, Chambers, 'way'."
"What the hell?. . . I mean. . . heck. . . er. . . "
"You are not in school, Mr. Chambers. I cannot very well give you a detention here on
this train. I assume, however, you are heading back to Castle Rock to resume your
education?"
"Uh, yeah. . . and if you could. . . not kill me. . . it would be. . . appreciated. . ."
"Relax, Chambers. Your death will not be at the hands of English teacher."
"Um, thank you, sir. If you don't mind me asking. . . what the hell are you doing
here?"
"Don't push it."
"Sorry. Heck. What the heck are you doing here?"
"Contrary to popular belief, Chambers, while not a socialite, I am neither an isolated hermit."
"Um, what?"
"I have a life."
"Oh! Well, uh, yeah, I-"
"And I also happen to know something about you that I don't think you're aware of my
knowledge of."
"Okay, I stick to my story- I couldn't possibly have done that. . . I wasn't even in
school that day. . . I-"
"No, Chambers. I was referring to something else." Chris sat back, stumped. Normally,
he had very few secrets- at least, none that his English teacher would care about. "What?"
"You and Gordie." Chris choked and coughed. "How do you accomplish choking without
eating or drinking anything?"
"It's easy. The most feared figure in my entire education tells me he knows I'm an ass
screwer. You try it."
"A *what*, excuse me?"
"Uh, a. . . uh. . . gay person. . . "
"Well here. Let me level the playing field. I'm gay too." Chris choked again. "Water,
here, please?" Mr. Cave said crisply to a passing attendant, who handed him a water bottle
from the cart she was pushing. He gave it to Chris. "Choking is not a healthy thing."
"Uh, thanks," Chris said, gulping down the water, though he wasn't really thirsty. "Sir,
if I can ask again, what are you doing here?"
"Lack of profanity," Mr. Cave observed, a smile playing around his lips. "Well done."
Chris sat and looked at him, arms folded patiently, not one to let Mr. Cave get around
the question. "I have family in Omaha," Mr. Cave explained. "I visit my mother and father
over the break, and then I head over to Boise to visit my children." Chris, who had been mid-
gulp, choked for a third time. "At least this time you choked on something."
"Uh. . . Mr. Cave, don't take this the wrong way. . but. . . uh. . . children?" "Yes.
Madeleine is 14, Jenna is 10, and Rob is 8."
"Three children? For someone who screws up the ass, that certainly is- eep." Chris
finished with a strange squeak, clapping his hands over his mouth. "I didn't mean that. I
*swear* I didn't mean that. Don't hurt me. Don't fail me. I can't afford to fail English. Oh, I
am *screwed*. . . I mean, no! I'm. . . I'm in trouble! I would *never* say screwed! Oh, fuck
it. . . No! Screw it! NO! DAMMIT! Er, I mean. . ."
"Is he, um, all right?" the lady next to Mr. Cave asked softly.
"He's fine," Mr. Cave murmured back sadly. "He's my son. . . he has Tourette's
Syndrome."
"Ah," the lady said sympathetically. "I'm so sorry." And she went back to reading her
romance novel.
"Chambers, I would ask you to keep your voice down," Mr. Cave said. "I really don't
mind discussing my history with you, but I would appreciate it if it were kept a little quieter."
Chris was shocked to look up and see Mr. Cave's face uncrossed by any frowns. In fact, he
was almost smiling.
"I'm sorry, sir," Chris said meekly. "What I mean is, how do you have children?"
"I was married at 16," Mr. Cave began. Chris stopped to cackle at the thought of Mr.
Cave, the teenager. Then he stopped at the thought that he, too, was sixteen. "I became a
father at the age of seventeen. I had a lovely wife, Angela. And then, when I was 25, I
realized that, through no fault of her own, I was simply no longer attracted to her."
"Why do your kids live in Boise?"
"That's where Angie lives. She told me that she wasn't going to move, but I sure as
hell was."
"Burn! I mean. . . oh. . . that's. . . sad. . . "
"Chambers, as I told your "buddy" Lachance, you may tell any of this to whomever
you wish. I would just ask you to bear in mind the thought of me telling an equal number of
people everything I know about you." Chris nodded his understanding.
"Boise!" the attendant yelled, and Mr. Cave stood up. "See you in a few weeks,
Christopher," he said, his voice back to the crisp, steel tones it normally had. "Remember this-
people won't always accept you, but the ones that will not don't matter at all."
"I am not setting the tree up without Chris," Gordie said, slowly and deliberately. "Nor
are any of you."
"I still can't believe your mom and dad left you home alone for two freaking
weeks!" Teddy jeered. "This is infuckingcredible. Nothing like this has ever happened. Nothing
like this will ever happen again!"
Gordie's parents had taken off earlier that day to spend the holidays in the Caribbean.
Being that Gordie and all of his friends were sixteen, they'd decided that he was old enough to
fend for himself and left him alone.
"I can't believe they left over Christmas," Justi said, shaking her head. "That's just
wrong."
"I wanna set up the tree! Tree! Tree! Tree! Tree!" Teddy yelled, running around the
living room doing the Dance of the Winged Tree Monkeys (he'd named it himself).
"It's not that messed up," Gordie replied, craning his head to see over the dancing
Teddy. "I mean, they are my parents. they don't stick around for much."
"All the better for Christmas party throwing!" Teddy cried.
"Breathe, Teddy, breathe."
"When is Chris getting in?" Justi asked, shaking her head in disgust over Teddy, who now looked like he was trying to mate with the carpet.
"Oh shit!"
"You did *not* forget him," Teddy said slowly, prying himself up from the floor.
"Uh. . . well, that depends," Gordie said quickly, grabbing the last letter he'd gotten
from Chris. "What time is it?" Justi checked her watch.
"It's four oh eight," she reported.
"Good! His train gets in at four thirty. Teddy, I'm taking the car-"
"The hell you are! I'll drive!"
"No," Gordie pleaded, remembering the last time he'd ridden with Teddy. Teddy had,
since their shopping expedition, graduated from pulling into every parking lot to pulling into
every parking lot and parking in every parking spot. "PLEASE don't drive."
"I will drive," Justi interrupted, and Teddy stared at her.
"But that's my car, man. . ."
"Teddy! I will no longer heart you if you do not let me drive your goddamned car!"
"You heart me?"
"Well, I heart you NOW, but. . . "
Teddy sighed. "All right, you can take the Pimp-mobile."
"And you must also get me the package of Ho-hos in the kitchen."
"Good talking to you, Chambers," Mr. Cave said, waving to Chris as he stepped off the
platform and went in the opposite direction of Chris's path.
"Uh, yeah, same here. Not, like, talking to myself, but talking to you, you know, good
talking to you. Not that, you know, it *wouldn't* be, but, you know, sometimes. . . "
"Screw it," Mr. Cave finished for him, and smiled broadly at Chris's grin.
"Exactly, Mr. Cave. That was exactly what I wanted to say."
Mr. Cave waved again and was gone.
Chris, armed against the world with his one suitcase, sat down on a bench near the
station, cradling the beat up, dark blue suitcase close to him as he kept an eye out for Gordie.
There was always that little bit of him insisting that Gordie wasn't coming, that he'd somehow
forgotten the moment that five months of letters and phone calls had been leading up to.
The train emptied and pulled away from the station, and Chris watched families meet
each other again and again. The starry-eyed daughters coming home from college and
meeting their mothers, the scared-looking sons returning from Grandma's and into their
father's arms, the lovers stepping off the train and running into the arms of the one waiting
for them at the station. Gordie had told him that he would probably be late, but he couldn't
help feeling a sting of envy towards everyone there.
December snow was flying, and Chris guessed that was part of the reason that Gordie
was late. He checked his watch. Gordie should have been there ten minutes ago. Ten minutes,
he thought to himself. That's not that bad. You used to be late for class by more than that
every single day. He focused instead on the upcoming holiday.
Christmas had always been his favorite time of year, and he was reminded why when a
group of carolers stepped into the station. Looking down only to glance occasionally at the
uniform hymnbooks all carried, their mouths were opened in a stream of joy. The snow,
freshly fallen into mounds of hair, was melting, and all that remained of the weather were
their red cheeks.
Suddenly, there was a form in front of him. Chris looked up in surprise and sat there
blinking for a few seconds.
"You haven't forgotten what I look like, have you?"
The words seemed to bring him to life. "Gordie!" Chris shrieked, and jumped up and
pulled the littler boy into an embrace. "God, I missed you so much. . . I've got so much to tell
you. . . missed you. . . I. . . "
"Must. . . breathe. . . " Gordie croaked from Chris's bone-crushing bear hug.
"Oh! Oh, God, I'm sorry," Chris said, laughing. "Lachance, you're such a wimp!"
"And yet you find yourself irresistibly drawn to my masculine charms," Gordie said
innocently.
"I especially love the masculine way you bat your eyelashes," Chris commented, smiling
genuinely for the first time in days.
"It's an art, Chris. A true art. Here, let me carry that."
"Hell with you. I'll carry my own damned suitcase."
"It's cause I'm gay, isn't it? Isn't it??"
"God, Gordie, settle down." Chris couldn't keep the smile off of his face, though. All
those nights, staring up at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the wall. All those cold, hurried
days, crossing the windwhipped campus, using his books as a shield, talking to no one,
reaching out to no one, and allowing no one to reach him. And now. . . now it was finally,
finally over. After six months, it was all over, his friends were all here, and he could be himself
again.
He'd realized over the months in New York that the anonymity he'd loved so much at the
start of term was in fact an enemy. In Castle Rock, he had cursed society for looking down at
him as a Chambers kid. But at least there people had known him. He'd had a comfortable role
to play. He could either go down the bad path, and have no one get too worked up about it-
he was, after all, a "Chambers kid"- or he could make something of himself, and be celebrated
as "the Chambers kid who did it right". Anything he wanted to do with his life was either met
with indifference or joy. There was no spite for him anymore in Castle Rock; Eyeball and his
father had used it all up. But in New York. . . in New York there was no other option but to
succeed. The polar opposite of everything he'd ever been told.
He didn't want to go back to New York. The thought struck him, blunt and cold, as
suddenly as if he'd been physically hit. He couldn't believe it had taken him six months away
from everything he knew to figure it out, but it had. Six long, empty months of nothing but
soul-searching. They'd been the most academically educational six months of his life, but isn't
there more to education than academics? Education was the look on a newborn kitten's face
when it opens its eyes for the first time. Education was announcing to Mrs. Mathis that he was
taking the college courses in the fall and savoring the look of pleasant surprise. Education was
Gordie.
"I live in Castle Rock." Five words were all Chris could bring himself to say after thinking
a universe of thoughts. For some reason, words weren't coming to him. While his thought was
crystal clear, he couldn't seem to find coherent sentences. But he wanted so badly to tell
Gordie everything. . .
"Very profound, Chris," Gordie said, grinning, and Chris knew he hadn't understood. How
could he understand, Chris reasoned. He's been protected his whole life. And where the old
Chris would have felt bitterness, the new, worldly, patient Chris felt a surge of love.
He expressed it with a swift kick to Gordie's ankle.
End of Chapter 16
This chapter's really a lot better with the italics in, but, being me *cough* STUPID *cough* I don't know how to make it show up on ff.net, so I did the best I could with the little asterisks.
Last update for a long time, people. Until then, I heart you all! Muchas heartas!
This isn't a new chapter, though. This is chapter 16- I uploaded it wrong or something and it came out all smooshed. I got a call from one of my friends ("Caroline, you know how you always say that you're going to kill the next person who smooshes everything together on fanfiction.net?" "Uh, yeah. . . " "Well. . . ") letting me know that I screwed up. Now, I have no Internet connection at my mom's, so what I had to end up doing was walking over to the middle school, which had let out about a half hour previously, going up to one of the teachers I was really close to in eighth grade (and who I live almost next-door to now) and BEGGING him to drive me to the library. . . so if the spacing comes out pretty over-the-top, it's because I didn't want anyone to have to sort through this huge block of text.
I heart everyone!!! Review my story!! THANKS!
Chapter 16
It appeared to Chris that train rides, as you get more and more experienced, do not get
easier.
On a train to Portland, the rickety takeoff still startled him. The hurtling speed still threw
him. And the repetitiveness of it all still made him restless. He made a vow never to ride a
train again.
Leaving New York had been hard. Lea had been in tears at the train station, after
promising herself in the taxi the two had shared on the way there that she wouldn't cry.
Thankfully, she hadn't made a scene, but a little bit of Chris had still died when she had
started to cry.
He'd had considerably more baggage coming home than he'd had when he'd first arrived
in New York. He'd stepped off the train with two bags to his name, and he was coming home
with five. One of them, a small carryon, had Gordie's Christmas gift in it.
Christmas gift. Could it really be that Christmas was only a week away? It was December
seventeenth- almost a month had passed since Chris had made the scrapbook, but a shiver of
excitement still went through him whenever he looked at it, thinking of Gordie's reaction.
He had almost no desire to look around him. There were about ten people in his
compartment, it looked like. The man next to him looked vaguely familiar, but then, so did
everyone in a city as big as New York. His head seemed to grow heavier and heavier as the
hours passed, until finally, unable- and unwilling- to hold it up any longer, he dropped his
head onto his shoulder and fell asleep.
"Where are you headed?" an attendant asked, poking him awake. He snorted and
checked his watch.
"Uh, Greenview," he murmured sleepily. "Where are we?"
"Boise," she said sweetly.
"That's in. . . like. . . Idaho. . . "
"Yessir," she said, smiling. "That it is. I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to
wake up halfway to Greenview and realize you should have gotten off an hour ago."
"Thanks," he said gratefully. "I probably *would* have slept through it."
She laughed. "We get that a lot, but it's never happened on my shift. I don't want to
start now."
"I don't blame you." He smiled and stretched. "If I fall asleep again, wake me when
we get to Greenview, will you, love?"
She blushed. "Of course, sir," she said, laughing timidly at being addressed as "love"
by this tall, handsome stranger and scurrying back to the front of the train.
"You still got it, Chambers," he muttered to himself, and the man next to him burst
out laughing. "I remember being that young," the man said, smiling. The man still looked
incredibly familiar, although Chris couldn't place him. . . until. . .
"Mr. Cave? No way!"
"Yes, Chambers, 'way'."
"What the hell?. . . I mean. . . heck. . . er. . . "
"You are not in school, Mr. Chambers. I cannot very well give you a detention here on
this train. I assume, however, you are heading back to Castle Rock to resume your
education?"
"Uh, yeah. . . and if you could. . . not kill me. . . it would be. . . appreciated. . ."
"Relax, Chambers. Your death will not be at the hands of English teacher."
"Um, thank you, sir. If you don't mind me asking. . . what the hell are you doing
here?"
"Don't push it."
"Sorry. Heck. What the heck are you doing here?"
"Contrary to popular belief, Chambers, while not a socialite, I am neither an isolated hermit."
"Um, what?"
"I have a life."
"Oh! Well, uh, yeah, I-"
"And I also happen to know something about you that I don't think you're aware of my
knowledge of."
"Okay, I stick to my story- I couldn't possibly have done that. . . I wasn't even in
school that day. . . I-"
"No, Chambers. I was referring to something else." Chris sat back, stumped. Normally,
he had very few secrets- at least, none that his English teacher would care about. "What?"
"You and Gordie." Chris choked and coughed. "How do you accomplish choking without
eating or drinking anything?"
"It's easy. The most feared figure in my entire education tells me he knows I'm an ass
screwer. You try it."
"A *what*, excuse me?"
"Uh, a. . . uh. . . gay person. . . "
"Well here. Let me level the playing field. I'm gay too." Chris choked again. "Water,
here, please?" Mr. Cave said crisply to a passing attendant, who handed him a water bottle
from the cart she was pushing. He gave it to Chris. "Choking is not a healthy thing."
"Uh, thanks," Chris said, gulping down the water, though he wasn't really thirsty. "Sir,
if I can ask again, what are you doing here?"
"Lack of profanity," Mr. Cave observed, a smile playing around his lips. "Well done."
Chris sat and looked at him, arms folded patiently, not one to let Mr. Cave get around
the question. "I have family in Omaha," Mr. Cave explained. "I visit my mother and father
over the break, and then I head over to Boise to visit my children." Chris, who had been mid-
gulp, choked for a third time. "At least this time you choked on something."
"Uh. . . Mr. Cave, don't take this the wrong way. . but. . . uh. . . children?" "Yes.
Madeleine is 14, Jenna is 10, and Rob is 8."
"Three children? For someone who screws up the ass, that certainly is- eep." Chris
finished with a strange squeak, clapping his hands over his mouth. "I didn't mean that. I
*swear* I didn't mean that. Don't hurt me. Don't fail me. I can't afford to fail English. Oh, I
am *screwed*. . . I mean, no! I'm. . . I'm in trouble! I would *never* say screwed! Oh, fuck
it. . . No! Screw it! NO! DAMMIT! Er, I mean. . ."
"Is he, um, all right?" the lady next to Mr. Cave asked softly.
"He's fine," Mr. Cave murmured back sadly. "He's my son. . . he has Tourette's
Syndrome."
"Ah," the lady said sympathetically. "I'm so sorry." And she went back to reading her
romance novel.
"Chambers, I would ask you to keep your voice down," Mr. Cave said. "I really don't
mind discussing my history with you, but I would appreciate it if it were kept a little quieter."
Chris was shocked to look up and see Mr. Cave's face uncrossed by any frowns. In fact, he
was almost smiling.
"I'm sorry, sir," Chris said meekly. "What I mean is, how do you have children?"
"I was married at 16," Mr. Cave began. Chris stopped to cackle at the thought of Mr.
Cave, the teenager. Then he stopped at the thought that he, too, was sixteen. "I became a
father at the age of seventeen. I had a lovely wife, Angela. And then, when I was 25, I
realized that, through no fault of her own, I was simply no longer attracted to her."
"Why do your kids live in Boise?"
"That's where Angie lives. She told me that she wasn't going to move, but I sure as
hell was."
"Burn! I mean. . . oh. . . that's. . . sad. . . "
"Chambers, as I told your "buddy" Lachance, you may tell any of this to whomever
you wish. I would just ask you to bear in mind the thought of me telling an equal number of
people everything I know about you." Chris nodded his understanding.
"Boise!" the attendant yelled, and Mr. Cave stood up. "See you in a few weeks,
Christopher," he said, his voice back to the crisp, steel tones it normally had. "Remember this-
people won't always accept you, but the ones that will not don't matter at all."
"I am not setting the tree up without Chris," Gordie said, slowly and deliberately. "Nor
are any of you."
"I still can't believe your mom and dad left you home alone for two freaking
weeks!" Teddy jeered. "This is infuckingcredible. Nothing like this has ever happened. Nothing
like this will ever happen again!"
Gordie's parents had taken off earlier that day to spend the holidays in the Caribbean.
Being that Gordie and all of his friends were sixteen, they'd decided that he was old enough to
fend for himself and left him alone.
"I can't believe they left over Christmas," Justi said, shaking her head. "That's just
wrong."
"I wanna set up the tree! Tree! Tree! Tree! Tree!" Teddy yelled, running around the
living room doing the Dance of the Winged Tree Monkeys (he'd named it himself).
"It's not that messed up," Gordie replied, craning his head to see over the dancing
Teddy. "I mean, they are my parents. they don't stick around for much."
"All the better for Christmas party throwing!" Teddy cried.
"Breathe, Teddy, breathe."
"When is Chris getting in?" Justi asked, shaking her head in disgust over Teddy, who now looked like he was trying to mate with the carpet.
"Oh shit!"
"You did *not* forget him," Teddy said slowly, prying himself up from the floor.
"Uh. . . well, that depends," Gordie said quickly, grabbing the last letter he'd gotten
from Chris. "What time is it?" Justi checked her watch.
"It's four oh eight," she reported.
"Good! His train gets in at four thirty. Teddy, I'm taking the car-"
"The hell you are! I'll drive!"
"No," Gordie pleaded, remembering the last time he'd ridden with Teddy. Teddy had,
since their shopping expedition, graduated from pulling into every parking lot to pulling into
every parking lot and parking in every parking spot. "PLEASE don't drive."
"I will drive," Justi interrupted, and Teddy stared at her.
"But that's my car, man. . ."
"Teddy! I will no longer heart you if you do not let me drive your goddamned car!"
"You heart me?"
"Well, I heart you NOW, but. . . "
Teddy sighed. "All right, you can take the Pimp-mobile."
"And you must also get me the package of Ho-hos in the kitchen."
"Good talking to you, Chambers," Mr. Cave said, waving to Chris as he stepped off the
platform and went in the opposite direction of Chris's path.
"Uh, yeah, same here. Not, like, talking to myself, but talking to you, you know, good
talking to you. Not that, you know, it *wouldn't* be, but, you know, sometimes. . . "
"Screw it," Mr. Cave finished for him, and smiled broadly at Chris's grin.
"Exactly, Mr. Cave. That was exactly what I wanted to say."
Mr. Cave waved again and was gone.
Chris, armed against the world with his one suitcase, sat down on a bench near the
station, cradling the beat up, dark blue suitcase close to him as he kept an eye out for Gordie.
There was always that little bit of him insisting that Gordie wasn't coming, that he'd somehow
forgotten the moment that five months of letters and phone calls had been leading up to.
The train emptied and pulled away from the station, and Chris watched families meet
each other again and again. The starry-eyed daughters coming home from college and
meeting their mothers, the scared-looking sons returning from Grandma's and into their
father's arms, the lovers stepping off the train and running into the arms of the one waiting
for them at the station. Gordie had told him that he would probably be late, but he couldn't
help feeling a sting of envy towards everyone there.
December snow was flying, and Chris guessed that was part of the reason that Gordie
was late. He checked his watch. Gordie should have been there ten minutes ago. Ten minutes,
he thought to himself. That's not that bad. You used to be late for class by more than that
every single day. He focused instead on the upcoming holiday.
Christmas had always been his favorite time of year, and he was reminded why when a
group of carolers stepped into the station. Looking down only to glance occasionally at the
uniform hymnbooks all carried, their mouths were opened in a stream of joy. The snow,
freshly fallen into mounds of hair, was melting, and all that remained of the weather were
their red cheeks.
Suddenly, there was a form in front of him. Chris looked up in surprise and sat there
blinking for a few seconds.
"You haven't forgotten what I look like, have you?"
The words seemed to bring him to life. "Gordie!" Chris shrieked, and jumped up and
pulled the littler boy into an embrace. "God, I missed you so much. . . I've got so much to tell
you. . . missed you. . . I. . . "
"Must. . . breathe. . . " Gordie croaked from Chris's bone-crushing bear hug.
"Oh! Oh, God, I'm sorry," Chris said, laughing. "Lachance, you're such a wimp!"
"And yet you find yourself irresistibly drawn to my masculine charms," Gordie said
innocently.
"I especially love the masculine way you bat your eyelashes," Chris commented, smiling
genuinely for the first time in days.
"It's an art, Chris. A true art. Here, let me carry that."
"Hell with you. I'll carry my own damned suitcase."
"It's cause I'm gay, isn't it? Isn't it??"
"God, Gordie, settle down." Chris couldn't keep the smile off of his face, though. All
those nights, staring up at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the wall. All those cold, hurried
days, crossing the windwhipped campus, using his books as a shield, talking to no one,
reaching out to no one, and allowing no one to reach him. And now. . . now it was finally,
finally over. After six months, it was all over, his friends were all here, and he could be himself
again.
He'd realized over the months in New York that the anonymity he'd loved so much at the
start of term was in fact an enemy. In Castle Rock, he had cursed society for looking down at
him as a Chambers kid. But at least there people had known him. He'd had a comfortable role
to play. He could either go down the bad path, and have no one get too worked up about it-
he was, after all, a "Chambers kid"- or he could make something of himself, and be celebrated
as "the Chambers kid who did it right". Anything he wanted to do with his life was either met
with indifference or joy. There was no spite for him anymore in Castle Rock; Eyeball and his
father had used it all up. But in New York. . . in New York there was no other option but to
succeed. The polar opposite of everything he'd ever been told.
He didn't want to go back to New York. The thought struck him, blunt and cold, as
suddenly as if he'd been physically hit. He couldn't believe it had taken him six months away
from everything he knew to figure it out, but it had. Six long, empty months of nothing but
soul-searching. They'd been the most academically educational six months of his life, but isn't
there more to education than academics? Education was the look on a newborn kitten's face
when it opens its eyes for the first time. Education was announcing to Mrs. Mathis that he was
taking the college courses in the fall and savoring the look of pleasant surprise. Education was
Gordie.
"I live in Castle Rock." Five words were all Chris could bring himself to say after thinking
a universe of thoughts. For some reason, words weren't coming to him. While his thought was
crystal clear, he couldn't seem to find coherent sentences. But he wanted so badly to tell
Gordie everything. . .
"Very profound, Chris," Gordie said, grinning, and Chris knew he hadn't understood. How
could he understand, Chris reasoned. He's been protected his whole life. And where the old
Chris would have felt bitterness, the new, worldly, patient Chris felt a surge of love.
He expressed it with a swift kick to Gordie's ankle.
End of Chapter 16
This chapter's really a lot better with the italics in, but, being me *cough* STUPID *cough* I don't know how to make it show up on ff.net, so I did the best I could with the little asterisks.
Last update for a long time, people. Until then, I heart you all! Muchas heartas!