Chapter 14 Sticks and Stones

THANKSGIVING weekend totally blew. Mike was stuck in the house with his alcoholic parents and emo sister, eating turkey and listening to the relatives argue about why they decided to come to the Foster residence this year? It was the same every year. The family argued and the next year they came to Mike’s parents’ house anyway. Even Mike himself wasn’t sure why he bothered to show up except that his gran was going to be there too, and he wouldn’t miss the chance to see her. She was ninety-two; how much longer would she be around, anyway?

When classes started up again the following Monday, he jumped for joy.

He hadn’t seen anybody yet, and he was dying for some action. There had to be a party going on somewhere, right? Brent, Dalton, or maybe Frank had to have plans in the works. Nobody, after spending the weekend with his or her folks, could go long without throwing a kegger; Mike just had to scope it out. His last resort would be the local adult beverage dispensary, since he’d have to spend his own money. He’d rather drink on someone else’s bill.

Mike Foster was a deadbeat. He knew it. He only went to college because his grandmother had offered to pay so he’d “get an education and stay out of trouble.” And really, the last few years hadn’t been so bad. Rob went here. He and his Siamese twin, Russell, had been decent enough to him over the years, despite Mike’s crude remarks about Rob’s church. Russell lived in the same neighborhood, and his mom continually brought over casseroles or pot roast as a “kind, neighborly gesture” for his mother. Mrs. Davenport was overly generous, and Mike doubted that his mom would ever return the kindness. She was normally too high to remember where the meal had come from, let alone cook one in return. Stupid woman.

Mike was glad for the nice neighbors, but at the same time he felt a twinge of jealousy. Why couldn’t he have a great family like that? Life wasn’t fair. So, because life dealt out unpleasant hands to the helpless human race, Mike often felt compelled to join in. Not horrible things, only little ones. He was only arrested twice— without conviction. No one could prove who egged Mr. Flannery’s house. Mike knew how to cover his tracks. It served that man right, anyway, for marrying a black woman. Mixed couples are disgusting! Mike thought.

Mike wasn’t racist. No. He simply thought that blacks should be segregated, like in the olden days. And intermarrying with them was unnecessary.

Mike stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets as he rounded the corner of the English department. He was fucking freezing. He couldn’t wait for the end of this semester. At his dad’s suggestion, he’d learned some management skills and taken some accounting classes, and had surprised everyone with a three-point-five GPA. Mike had the feeling his dad was gearing him up to take over the family tire business. Maybe. He could. Perhaps he’d end up making something of himself after all.

But not today.

He was on a three-hour break between classes—after his economics class, which ended at nine thirty in the morning—and hoped to catch Dalton before he stepped into Earth Science. Brent had texted ten minutes ago, asking him over to do a couple lines before his next class, so he was stoked. He thought Dalton would appreciate an invite. Mike strolled down the steps near the science department with a little skip in his step and a hum in the back of his throat. The thought of doing a little coke after a dry spell over the weekend was exhilarating.

Then his foot faltered.

Ahead of him, leaning on a brick wall that served as the backdrop for a flower garden on the other side, was a couple of male college students. One, smaller and thin, and obscured by the other guy’s body, had his arms around the bigger guy. Their faces were way too close together to be having a conversation, and Mike was sickened by the thought of what he’d observed. They were kissing. Seriously kissing. Mike tentatively approached, fixated by the repulsive act before him. They’re faggots.

Still, as if witnessing a train wreck, he couldn’t look away. To make matters worse, one of them was making sounds like a dove, and mewling shamelessly in public.

 

Mike stepped closer.

One guy had a cast on his leg. Maybe Mike could sneak up and shove real hard, knocking them over the garden wall into the flowerbed. That would be hilarious.

As he edged closer, he heard a gasp behind him, so he turned. It was Russell. He was clamping his hand over his mouth and his eyes were as wide as saucers. “Ellis?” Russell asked weakly.

Only then did Mike’s brain register who he had been watching. The whole time he was sickened and intrigued and then sickened some more, it had been Ellis Montgomery who was macking on the other dude. And as soon as Ellis turned his head, both Russell and Mike were able to see that Cole Reid was the other party.

“Oh fuck!” Mike recoiled with an exclamation.

 

“Mike, Russ, I…,” Ellis floundered. “We…. Cole and I were just….”

“Save it, Monty! Save it!” Mike spat. “I’ve been here long enough to know what the hell you were doing, only I didn’t know it was you until Russell showed up.”

“Mike, I—” Ellis started again.

 

Mike cut him off. “And with a four-eyed physics freak like Reid? Way to pick a loser.”

“Is this real?” Russell asked, bewildered. “I don’t believe it. You’re… gay?” He stumbled forward in a stupor that caused Mike to throw out a hand to ensure he didn’t fall down the steps. Mike knew Russell wasn’t drunk, but he understood his dazed appearance all too well. Mike would probably fall on his face, too, if he’d just come across his best bud making out with another guy.

“Is this why I haven’t seen you at any of Dalton’s parties?” Mike growled, challenging Ellis with his tone not to even think of refuting the facts. “You’ve been going at it with Reid? What the fuck? I didn’t know you were a fuckin’ queer. God hates queers, ya know. Tell him, Russ.”

When Russell didn’t say anything, Mike turned to look at him, only to find him backing away in silence. He was in shock, or maybe he was scared, or maybe he felt betrayed to find out one of his inner circle was a perverted homosexual. Either way, Mike figured he could stand up to Ellis by himself.

“Go ahead, say something,” Mike urged with his chest puffed out, shoulders cocked back.
Ellis hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? Being a freak?” Mike sneered.

“Sorry I wasn’t honest with you,” Ellis replied quietly, looking at the ground at Mike’s feet. “All those times you made fun of me for not having the nerve to make it with a girl, I knew it was because I was attracted to guys, and I didn’t have the gumption to tell you. So, I’m sorry. I never meant for you to find out this way.”

“I told you it was a mistake to kiss on campus,” whispered Cole, apparently trying to keep Mike from hearing, yet Mike was too close to miss his words. Cole even had the gall to hold Ellis’s hand.

Gross! “You’re a fucking genius,” Mike ridiculed.

Ellis stiffened his arm across Cole’s body and squared around to face Mike, leaning his weight on one crutch. “Say what you want about me, but if you talk to Cole like that again, I will beat the hell out of you with this crutch, I guarantee it!” (Only then did Mike notice the other crutch was leaning on the stone wall, which was partially why he hadn’t known it was Ellis right away. He’d been fixated on the kissing and hadn’t thought about the cast.)

“Whatever, Montgomery. You’re still a faggot. I can take you on any day.” He puffed his chest out again, even if he was shaking on the inside.

He knew Ellis was strong. They’d worked out together on several occasions, and Ellis always out-lifted him. His only real advantage was that cast! (The cast that would come off in another week.) If he was going to make a move, it would have to be before then. Slowly, he backed up and headed away from the pathetic losers and off to find Dalton. He knew between the two of them they could come up with an appropriate deed that would put the queers in their place.

DALTON suggested a number of things. “Egging” had been done before. “Toilet papering their apartment” seemed blasé. And leaving “flaming bags of dog poop” was just too juvenile. Mike needed something more significant to send a message that what Ellis was doing was wrong. It was wrong, and would not be tolerated.

At two in the morning, Mike, Dalton, and Brent snuck down the street to find Cole’s Mercury sedan parked just far enough away to get the job done. Brent pulled out his spray paint and nodded. This was going to be fun!

IN THE morning, Mike hid behind the bushes, waiting for Cole and Ellis to descend. They were together every morning. Why Mike hadn’t suspected something sooner just proved how stupid and trusting he was. He thought they were merely good friends. Like Rob and Russell. It never occurred to him they were fuck buddies. Eww. His stomach churned suddenly, and a loud eruption echoed behind him, relieving his intestines of the pressure of mounting gas.

“You’re a pig, you know that?”

 

Mike jerked around to find Russell behind him. “What are you doing here?”

 

Russell made a gesture, glancing down briefly and then sweeping his hands down his attire. “Duh!”

 

Russell was sweaty, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt in winter. “Oh yeah, jogging. I forgot you do that.”

Russell gave him a weird look and then peered around. “Why are you here? You aren’t up this early unless there’s beer involved. What are you doing?”

Mike was about to answer when he heard voices across the street. “I… shh. Wait.” He put his finger to his lips and signaled Russell to crouch down with him behind the bush. He pointed and Russell’s eyes followed his signal. Then they were both watching as Ellis and Cole rounded the corner and approached Cole’s car.

It was beautiful. Cole put his hand to his mouth as he surveyed what was left of his hunk-of-junk. Mike could not be more proud of how thoroughly they had busted out each headlight, broken off his mirrors, and smashed the windshield. Brent had added the perfect touch of “faggot” painted in neon pink across both sides of the car. And Dalton had thought to stab each tire with his pocketknife. “Perfect,” Mike whispered.

Ellis hobbled up next to Cole and seemed to say something. “What did you do?” Russell hissed behind him.
“Retribution.”

Mike felt champagne bubbles bursting inside him, effervescent and tingly. Cole walked forward and touched his car, and then he yelled something and pounded his fist on the dented hood. Ellis limped up beside him, and Cole shoved him away causing him to teeter on his crutches. When Cole immediately changed his behavior and grabbed Ellis, obviously so he wouldn’t fall, Mike grunted in disgust.

“If you’re mad at Ellis, why take it out on Cole?”

“Same difference,” he sneered. “Ellis still feels my wrath. See?” he said as he pointed to Ellis, who was holding Cole as if to console him. Cole had his face buried against his chest and Ellis was rubbing his back. Ellis’s face was ashen. “Besides, if Ellis can’t stand his weepy ass, maybe they’ll break up and it will be like a bonus.” He chuckled, proud of himself for that one. “Ellis is the fucking idiot who sold his car. It’s not my fault they have nothing else to trash.”

“You realize this is illegal, don’t you?” Russell pointed out. “And flat-out mean!”

Mike had momentarily forgotten the guy was there because he’d been so quiet. He turned and shrugged. “So?” He was surprised that Russell would act as if that were a bad thing. “He’s a queer. I thought you, of all people, would appreciate the beauty of this message.” He pointed to the mangled car and the two pathetic losers hugging on the street next to it.

Russell looked irritated instead. Why?

“Mike Foster,” Russell said, “don’t you know that malicious destruction of someone’s property is considered vandalism, and that premeditated vandalism on the basis of a person’s race, gender, religious conviction, or sexuality is considered a hate crime?”

Mike, again, was confused by Russell’s apparent sympathy toward Ellis. “Russ, Ellis is a queer. Don’t you get that? Ellis Montgomery, my former friend and yours, has been taking it up the ass this whole time and making a mockery of God’s intended design. Isn’t that what the Bible says?”

Russell narrowed his eyes. “Foster, don’t bring God into this. You don’t go to church. Your dad is a professed atheist and your mother does drugs at the kitchen table. You don’t get to use the Bible in your defense when you don’t believe in it to begin with.”

Mike squared his shoulders. “What about you, Davenport? Aren’t you being hypocritical if you say you believe in the Bible, yet you’re going to simply stand by and allow them to pervert all that’s holy and true?” He thought his response sounded very logical and pious. How clever. “It doesn’t sound very righteous to me.”

“It’s not my place to judge, Mike. And at the very least, it isn’t my place to exact punishment upon another human being for what he chooses to do with his private life. Ellis and Cole are our friends.”

“Were!” Mike quickly interjected.

“Are!” Russell emphasized. “Why would you do that to a friend? You totally busted up Cole’s car because they’re gay? Aren’t you the least bit sorry that you did that?”

For a fleeting second, Mike felt a twinge of regret. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone this far? But just as quickly as the feeling came, he dashed it aside. “No!” he snarled. “Queers deserve to be punished. I only wish I’d done more.”

In the distance, he heard a siren. He looked around. When Russell made no move and looked suspiciously calm, Mike demanded, “What did you do?”

Russell took his hand out of his pocket. He was holding a cell phone. “I called Mr. George.” He shook his head sympathetically. “You’ll never learn, Mike. My dad’s best friend is a cop. How many times has he been to your house to break up the parties when they’ve gotten too loud? How many times has he warned you to keep your nose clean? You were lucky when you didn’t do time for the Flannery stunt, or the girl in the wheelchair, but this….” Russell held out his hand toward Cole’s car. “I couldn’t let you get away with it.”

Mike’s survival instinct told him to run. He rounded the bush and took off, but a cop car sat in his path. He changed his direction again and ran down another street. Blocked. He turned again and bolted for the buildings that led away from campus. Another car, and several officers walked in his direction; he felt trapped. His escape routes were systematically getting cut off. He’d talked too long to Russell.

He had one more shot, past the apartments and through the middle of campus. He turned and saw Ellis and Cole watching him. He could feel them laughing, taunting him with their perverse lifestyle. “What are you looking at, faggots?” he screamed, rushing at them in a fit of rage.

Pathetically, they clung to one another as he swiftly approached. Ellis even lifted a crutch as if to ward him off with his makeshift weapon. Mike shoved it aside easily and kicked at Ellis’s one good leg. He howled in pain and stumbled, and Cole ineffectively attempted to stop his fall. Mike took that moment to shove Cole hard in the chest. He laughed in triumph as Cole yelped on his way down to the pavement, and then fled down the sidewalk. He collided with an officer as soon as he got ten feet past Cole.

As he struggled against the handcuffs and stumbled down the path the officer took him, Mike hatefully shouted in Ellis and Cole’s direction. “I thought your Bible said homosexuality was an abomination? I guess you’ll be joining me in hell!”

Russell, who now stood next to his friends, responded, “It also says love covers a multitude of sins. Hate begets hate, Mike. You gotta learn what it means to love!” He put his arm over Ellis’s shoulder as if to throw heaping coals onto the flames that rose up Mike’s back.

Bile burned the back of his throat as he was guided into the backseat of a county sheriff’s car. No matter what Russell said, he still didn’t regret what he’d done to Cole’s car. “He deserved it!” Mike grumbled as the car drove off.