Thank you all for the encouragement -
Empty house. Golden opportunity.
Ham had been thinking. Surely if they'd hung out that much, he would have more pictures of Jake.
He leafed through the pictures he'd taken over the last year. Some of them were very good. He wondered how he'd got the idea to take Will and Scout out of focus and make this shot all about the twin slanted, distorted shadows they cast in a dawn light. He'd been experimenting with filters, with mixed success. Here was a studio-type portrait of Bella, all dressed up, posed and self conscious. This: cloud formations. He'd kept it, so it must have meant something, but he didn't get it now. This one had been taken in a cheap hairdressers shop. He had been playing with the way the mirrors on opposite walls bounced the contents of the room - in this case, Will, looking badtempered in a barber's chair - backwards and forwards forever. Here was Ryder, holding court, the camera angled upward to catch his face against the sky so that it loomed threateningly over his cronies.
Where were the pictures of Jake?
Empty house. Golden opportunity. Search.
Looking on top of the wardrobe. Under the bed. Under the mattress - an old copy of Seventeen magazine. He'd got it for the fashion shoot, probably. Looking behind the Third Eye Blind posters. Looking inside the frame of the chest of drawers - he had to pull the drawers all the way out. Score! A diary.
He paused for a moment of yay. Oh. His hands were filthy.
The spelling and handwriting were a mess. It was an old diary.
Aug 4th 90: This is the jurnal and testment of Hamilton Fleming. I live in Rawley. I have a Mom and a dad. I don't have brothers or sisters. I keep asking. Mommy would go for it. Daddy says if I am a good boy I can have a puppy.
Aug 5th: Mommy and me drew pictures. We crayoned rainbow patterns and then we hid them under black paint. But when we scratched off shapes the colours showed thru. I drew a dog.
Aug 6th: Everybody here is old people. The big boys at the school are no good. Curtis is mean.
Aug 10th: I wanted to remind Dad about the puppy but he was talking grownup stuff to Mommy. It was about the school. Boring! But then, they asked for my opinion, cos I'm nearly a big boy. Like those Curtis and Schmidt guys. Only I'm not mean. Dad thinks the big boys don't work in English cos they think literature is girly. He wants the next English head to run sport too. Then, they will think Lit is cool. Mommy doesn't agree. She argued lots. I agreed with Daddy. Maybe he'll take me to the pet shop now?
A very old diary. What a onetrackmind kid he'd been. Hamilton carried on.
Looking on the floor of the wardrobe, at the back. Looking inside his guitar case. Behind the precarious stack of cds. (There! there was the instruction manual for cubase. Whatever else got found, the evening wasn't a total wash. He'd take a look and, later on, he could impress Jake by getting all computer expert on his ass.)
The cover of his portfolio felt uneven when he ran his hand over it. Cautiously, he peeled at the edges. Inside the lining were - Hamilton stared. These were the pictures, all right. What the hell was Jake doing in a dress? Wait, wait, maybe he had a sister. Ham didn't remember him mentioning a sister, but Ham's memory wasn't a big help lately.
He flipped rapidly through the pictures, looking for a clearer image of the face. The figure was blocked by trees, or distant, on a motorcycle, or cradling one of the dogs, but it was definitely in a dress. Different dresses. Different weathers and lights. All these had been taken at different times and hidden together like a guilty secret. And.. here was a clear one of the face.. Jake.
Yeah. Jake. In a dress. This was, like, so weird. That relationship Jake kept denying up and down - yeah, the relationship with him - was obviously.. well, kinkier.. Hamilton's thoughts trailed off.
He was staring at long, bare legs.
One of the reasons Hamilton could not possibly have expected this was, he'd've expected a guy in drag to go for taffeta, sequins, feather boas. None of that was Jake. Minimalist as ever, a plain wine coloured shift skimmed the tops of long, long legs. Ham stared, his eyes so wide it hurt. He'd seen Jake like this before. This was his best guy friend. He photographed him like this. But then he'd forgotten about it. How had that happened?
He wasn't into this, anyway. He'd seen Tootsie. Dustin Hoffman hadn't done a single pervy thing for him.
He, H Fleming, was officially middle of the road guy when it came to romance. If he'd been a cd, he'd've been in the Easy Listenin' racks. Jake, now, Jake would be some slow, purring Jazz or Blues. Or a complicated symphony where a thousand instruments alternately tangled and soared. You couldn't track it all; there was too much going on, but you would want to understand, as Symphony Jake rose to a crescendo, everything that he was.
And, yeah, that metaphor was getting out of hand. Crescendo, huh, and.. what the hell had been going on in that last year?
Even minimalist fake boobs, he reflected. Long pause. And no adams apple.
Oh God.
Long pause.
Again.
Oh God.
If he were a different kind of person, Hamilton would have stormed across to the dorms, let himself in, and confronted Jake. He knew where the keys lived. He could do it.
Part of him wanted to do that. He could yell a lot, justifiably. He could tell Jake how stupid and unfair this was, ditto. He could get apologies. God, Jake owed him for this.
He expected heartfelt apologies. Heartfelt.
Part of him wasn't up for confrontation, not yet. He needed to process. He promised himself much yelling, later.
Why?
Why in the first place? No, that wasn't exercising him most right now. He'd get to that later.
Why, having trusted him, did Jake not trust him second time around? Aside from the Dad thing. And the discussions - a lot of discussions, now he came to think of it - on the theory and practice of narc-ing.
Incurably fairminded, he supposed Jake had a reason for this year's paranoia. He wondered if Jake would ever have gotten round to the "Hey, I'm a girl" if he hadn't worked it out. He got angry again.
How did this situation get set up? It was crazy, insane. Why was Jacqueline doing this? At some point, this situation had to implode. Jake was smart, but he had this terrible habit of getting into more than he could handle.
Jacqueline. Oh.
Oh yes. Jake's name was Jacqueline.
Things were coming back to him, but not everything. Details were snagging in his mind but not the big picture. He still thought Sean was a jerk. So that proved he wasn't on board with last year's version of reality.
The sound of the phone ringing was welcome. Above all else, he wanted to Stop Thinking.
It was Sean.
He was freshly surprised that Sean had his number. Too weird.
Half his brain circling Jake's extraordinary secret, Hamilton let the earlier part of McGrail's tirade wash over him. He was wound up about something, but Sean was none of Ham's business. Now, Jake, no, Jacqueline, was his affair. Sean was saying something about Will.
Will had a problem. Goodbye to the Stop Thinking thing. "What's up with Will?"
"I told you."
Ham gave Sean the honesty he would have given a friend. "I wasn't listening."
Apparently Sean could sigh and groan at the same time.
It sounded freakish, Ham thought dispassionately. "Is the Will thing serious?" he wanted to know. If it wasn't, he could go back to worrying about Jake.
"He's been hurt." Sean was stressed.
Hurt? "What? How badly? Where is he, how do you know?"
"Get down here in your corvette and get him to hospital." There was an irritating whine in Sean's voice.
"I don't have a car." New Rawley kids always thought everyone up at the school was Richie Rich. There wasn't time to go into the rich/poor divide, or explain in words of one syllable which side Ham was on. Will needed hospital. "Where are you? Where's Will?"
"I'm at Will's. I can't get him to a doctor on my bike."
Ham nodded, pointlessly since Sean couldn't see him. In his head he was running through the guys with cars. They were all out for Saturday night. Bella, he knew, could hotwire any vehicle, but she was in Carson now. It would have to be the other option. Will was gonna kill him. "Stay there" he told Sean. "I'll get to you."
As he slapped the phone down, it occurred to him. Will's home address was right there; he knew it. He slammed the house door behind him and pelted across the grounds to the main school block.
Breathless when he got to his destination, he beat on the door with both fists.
"There's no need to break the door down" snapped Finn. Ham looked past him to see how ready his Mom would be to come and help Ham help Will.
Behind Finn, Mom was pushing her curls into place. The textbooks had never come out of her bag, but then, the room was lit to a cosy glow, not bright enough to read by. Mom had kicked off her shoes. Spike heels made her feet hurt, she always said. It confused Ham that women would wear uncomfortable clothes or diet and then whine about it. He was never going to date a chick who did stuff like that, he'd always promised himself. Some music he recognised from the classic rock station was playing. Finn and Mom had killed most of a bottle of white wine.
"It's an emergency" Ham told Finn. He was glad to see how relaxed things looked; Mom needed a friend and some good times. Even so, he hoped that Finn had downed most of the wine. Mom was going to have to drive.
"An emergency?" Irritation and concern were fighting on the adults' faces. So far, irritation was winning.
"Will. He's been hurt."
Instantly, Mom was all wife-of-the-Dean. "Which dorm?" she asked crisply.
Finn shook his head. "Off campus" he told her. Then: "What happened?" It wasn't like Finn to be brusque. Generally he was more subclause and unnecessary reference guy. Ham knew he was worried about Will.
"I think, his dad. Sean says he's alone at his house."
"His dad "happened"?" Mom asked with some sarcasm.
"It's possible, Kate." Finn looked troubled. "I've heard stories in town -" He paused, looked at Hamilton, and said "We'll talk about it later."
Mom shrugged.
They were reacting too slow. "Will needs help now." Ham emphasised the now part.
"Where are his parents?" Mom still hadn't made a move toward the door.
"You're thinking about school liability" Ham guessed. "Mom, he's on his own. He only has Sean." He didn't rate Sean's help as worth much.
"Sean's the baseball buddy."
Hearing this, Ham gave Finn an astonished look, only to find him raking through a bowl by the door for keys. He was amazed that Finn knew about a New Rawley boy. Finn himself was once New Rawley, but he kept it in his past. Finn held up the car keys. "Let's go."
"Wait" Kate said. "Liability is an issue. Steven would not like it."
"You're wrong. He'd want us to do the right thing. Dad's all about taking responsibility." Ham addressed Finn as much as his mother, now.
Finn twitched.
"Finn" Kate said sharply.
Ham looked from one to the other of them. He didn't understand. He remembered everything, and it didn't help.
"It's not the ideal time to be playing Mellors, Kate." Finn headed out.
"That's not how I see you" she said tautly. "Oh all right." She grabbed her purse and stamped past her son.
His shoulders relaxed. Finally, they were moving. He jogged after Finn. "I can drive" he offered.
Finn smiled wryly. "So can I. Two glasses of wine are well below the limit. Do you know where the address is?"
"Yeah" Ham said significantly.
Finn didn't get the significance of Ham remembering. He assumed Ham had been over at Will's place during this week.
"You brought your entire family." Sean's voice rose incredulously.
Will, looking kinda shaky, tried to stand up. "That's not the Dean. That's Finn."
"Lie down." Finn had rushed ahead of the Flemings and was beside the couch. "Stop. Let's push this out of the way."
Ham had frozen on the threshold, and Ham's mom was looking around her, anthropologist-like. Thinking back later, Ham would worry. If there was one thing guarranteed to make Sean cranky and defensive, it was this: feeling treated like a sociological field trip.
There was a painting on the wall that, every time he saw it over the last year, made Ham wince. The palette was discordant and the perspective jarred. He blamed it and the house around it for the fact Will was exclusively a word person, blind to clues in imagery. But, he'd never commented on the picture to Will, or, God forbid, to Mrs Krudsky. She painted it herself after a night course in art at the community college.
Ham realised he was distracting himself from what was happening by thinking irrelevant stuff. Will's scarlet Tshirt had blood on it, darker patches against the red. Ew.
"None of the cuts are deep" Will said.
Finn did his first aid thing. The Dean had sent him to be trained and certificated when he took over as crew coach.
"I just got banged about" Will said.
"What happened?" Ham was shocked.
Will closed his eyes. "Later" he said. "Ack-" Finn had taken his Tshirt off. Apparently it hurt.
"Dislocated shoulder" Finn said. "Mostly bruising. And your pupils are different sizes."
"My head hit the wall."
Finn took a deep breath. "All right."
Hamilton's mom finally stopped staring round. Mismatched furniture, ornaments she personally found tacky, fewer books than she would have expected. She passed silent judgement, and turned on Sean. "Why didn't you call an ambulance?" she wanted to know.
"And paid, how?" Sean got defensive.
Ham knew this mood. Sean must have wanted to call help, Ham guessed. Will had forbidden him. Will was so stupid about some things.
Ham went and got a bowl of luke warm water from the kitchen. Finn could get a better idea of the cuts if he wiped the dried blood off. There was a first aid kit under the sink. Good. He needed bandages. Will was oozing again in a couple of places, where clots had gunked onto his Tshirt. Pulling the top off had opened those up. He got back to the living-room as quickly as he could without spilling the bowl.
He didn't want to be here. He was embarrassed on Will's behalf - not that Will had the energy to care right now. The tang of fresh blood caught the back of his throat and made him nauseous. It was the grossest smell. He tried to think of another errand out of the room. He could run upstairs and get a buttonup shirt. People in shock had to be kept warm.
Finn had draped his jacket round Will's shoulders.
Ham tried to think of helpful things. Tea. Hot, sweet tea. They drank pints of it in old British war movies. He knew because the Dean was a secret fan of Kenneth More and Dickie Attenborough films.
Will would have to be paler and frailer than this for Ham to get sugary tea down his neck. Besides, he didn't really know how Mrs Krudsky organized her kitchen cupboards. An absence that had been niggling him clicked. "Will, where's your mom?"
"She left."
"To get a doctor." Mrs Fleming assumed.
"For good."
That silenced everyone. Ham touched Will's unhurt arm. "Man, that's harsh."
"I've been telling her to leave him for years." Will sounded broken now his advice had been taken. "I didn't mean to be around when he found out she'd gone."
"Yikes" Ham muttered almost inaudibly.
Mrs Fleming took Will's hand in both of hers. She would have hugged him if she could. "Will, she left him. Not you. You do get that? People don't leave their husbands unless there's no other way. Your mom loves you. Everything's going to work out."
Will gulped.
Over the soothing murmur, Finn caught Ham's eye, and Sean's eye, and jerked his head toward the door. Ham was relieved to obey.
Ham and Sean got outside. Ham wasn't sure what to say. "Intense" he said.
"You're not gonna go blabbing this round your snobby friends." Sean made a threat of the words. Ham's refreshed memories told him that uncertainty got Sean aggressive.
"I can keep a secret." Sean knew him better than to think he'd tell. "Scout needs to know, but Will should tell him."
Sean looked at him slyly. "And Jake? You two don't have secrets from each other."
"You'd be surprised" Ham muttered. He wanted to get back to school. He pulled Will's bike away from the wall. "I'll take his bike. Mom will drive him back to school, or casualty." As an afterthought "Or the police station."
"Yeah." Sean was subdued.
Ham didn't go. He asked "You all right?"
"Of course" Sean said at once. He didn't look all right. "What about Will?"
"What?"
"Is Rawley gonna take care of him?"
"Of course" Ham said in his turn. "Mom'll make sure of that."
Sean looked doubtfully at the lit window. Finn was doing most of the taking care so far.
"It's a boarding school" Ham reminded him. "The 24/7 thing is what they do."
"What about the break between summer session and next term?"
"Oh." Hamilton had forgotten about that. He was hoping to spend those three weeks with Jake. Now his memories told him Will didn't know Jake was Jacqueline. "-uh, Calhoun?" he suggested.
Sean mumbled something rude about Calhouns.
Ham let it pass. Even before Scout dated Bella, Sean had problems with him, refusing to see beyond his offensively privileged background. He waited for Sean to talk, smoothing his hand along the porch rail. Ouch, splinter. This sidling up to the topic was not very Sean. Ham drew the splinter out in the light spilling from the house.
Finally, Sean said "Mrs Krudsky left."
"Yeah." Ham had met her several times. She was nice. "Jake totally envies Will his mom." Jake had said so that afternoon.
"It's going to be rough on Will, having his parents split up."
"I know." Sean had asked him not to spill this news round Rawley. He said "You know, a lot of the guys at school have divorced parents." Ham thought it'd be easier on Will than most. He could give his loyalty whole to one parent, no shades of grey involved. There wasn't any debate that Mr Krudsky was the Bad Guy, here. It must be terrible to have your support demanded by both sides over years of grudge wars, Ham thought.
"You're saying parents splitting is no big deal" Sean said.
Sean was putting words in his mouth. Hamilton lost patience. "It's a big deal, but it's not a, a -" He couldn't think of a word. "He hasn't done anything bad." Bad would be like - Ham thought back to that argument with Jake - falsifying test scores, or snarling unfairly the way Ryder did, or something. "Look, what is this about?"
Sean eyed Kate and Finn glumly. "Nothing, apparently."
"Okay. Well. I'm out of here." His movements jerky with annoyance, Ham set off for home.