Outed

On the way to the police station, both boys went through their phones and attempted to sort the avalanche of communication. Tim had four calls from his mother and a dozen from numbers he didn’t have in his phone. He called his parents to explain they were on their way to the police station with Kevin, no he didn’t know anything, yes, he would call them back. They revealed they were in the process of packing to return home from his grandmother’s farm.

In the station, they were greeted by a cop the size of a house. He escorted them to a room and left the three of them there.

Over two hours two detectives interviewed the underage witnesses, and asked a hundred questions. While Stu and Tim were convinced, they didn’t know anything, the night’s encounter with the old car, it’s strange occupant and the noise of the broken glass, were all deemed as critical pieces of evidence.

As the second hour drew to a close, two things happened. The Keller pedestrian film clip post passed 800 local views, and Tim and Stu individually, and instantly picked the old car occupant out of a suspect line-up. Both events would change the boys irrevocably.

* * * *

Already tired from their intensive interview, Tim and Stu were glad to be back in the fresh air. As they walked down the front steps of the police station, they activated their cell phones. The devices went into meltdown.

The first message Stu read simply said ‘FAG!’ Stu felt the blood drain from his face as he stopped dead still, halfway down the building’s steps. He looked to his left and saw Tim, a step ahead, frozen and pale white.

“What’s wrong?” Kevin asked, when he looked back to find out where his boys were.

“I think we’ve been outed.” Stu replied, still in shock.

“What’s that mean?” Asked his father.

“It means someone knows we’re gay, and has told everyone.” Replied Tim.

“I thought you only just worked it out yourselves.” Said Kevin.

“We did.” Answered Stu, looking up. “Can we go home please.”

* * * *

Stu refused to look at his phone for the twelve-minute journey to the house. That didn’t stop it chiming four times to indicate new messages landing. His stomach turned.

When they arrived, he and Tim retreated to the bedroom and dived in.

‘Saw you on Facebook you Fairy – Anonymous’

‘I knew you were gay – Anonymous’

‘Hey gay boy – Anonymous’

‘Hello Stu, I saw you on the police clip. Wow, you and Tim! So cool, see you tomorrow – Heather’

‘Stu and Tim, cute couple – John’

‘Get off the team Fag – Eric’

“I’m going to look at the Facebook page to see how they knew we’re together.” Declared Stu as he booted his desktop. Tim just nodded.

“Hillary, in my Biol class says there’s a different clip from the one we saw on TV.” He added 20 seconds later.

As the web page opened Stu scanned down the comments and opinions. None of them seemed to discuss anything but the bashing. Opinions on motives varied wildly. On page two he came across the clip, uploaded by some guy called Keller. The tone of the message underneath seemed to be just the offer of better footage. The vision was crystal clear and this version wasn’t cropped. It showed Tim and him strolling hand in hand, chatting smiling, relaxed. It had taken them thirteen seconds to walk past the house, an eternity.

Two or three other ‘helpful’ people had added text, they had named Tim and Stu.

Stu direct messaged Keller and asked him to take down the footage. He explained they’d already been to the police, and the vision was causing ‘problems’. An hour later the clip had been removed, the damage already done.

The next morning at school was a serial experience. As Tim and Stu arrived on their usual bus, the front of the building was typically busy with students arriving for their day. As the pair walked up the front steps, they were aware of the finger pointing, and gossip erupting around them. The inside of the entrance hall, took that to a whole new level.

As soon as the double doors closed behind them, the entire hall went noticeably quiet, not silent, which would have been terrifying, but the noise dipped enough for the school to know they had arrived. The guys just kept walking, sticking to their pre-laid plan.

Stu’s locker was away from Tim’s, so they arrived at slightly different times. Both found someone had scrawled FAG on their door, in uneven four-inch letters. Stu immediately looked up and found he was being watched by dozens, intent on seeing his reaction. He grabbed the text book he needed for the first period, closed the door and made his way to class. It was going to be a long day.

Tim found himself confronted as the second period began. With the Stat teacher yet to arrive, the room was an ‘uncontrolled space’.

“Hey Baxter, how come you didn’t tell us you were going out with Bolton?” Questioned one of the meat heads from the back of class.

“Isn’t that my business?” replied Tim.

“Sure, just strange you’re so ashamed of him that you kept it secret.” Tim’s blood boiled as he crossed the seven-foot gap to the mouth in record time.

Arriving with momentum, he grabbed the guy’s shirtfront and both tumbled to the floor in a mass of arms, legs and upturned desks. The room went electric, with every student wired for action. At that precise moment Gladys Finley entered for the 10am start of her normally straightforward senior period. Today it was the polar opposite.

Ten minutes later, Tim and Henry Carson sat out front of the Principal’s Office awaiting an audience with the gruff man.

“I’ll tell you now, Carson,” said Tim, under his breath, “I’ll never be ashamed of Stuart Bolton.”

“Gees man, it was just a joke,” replied his aggressor. “You’re fucken psycho over this guy.”

“Yeah, I am.” Replied Tim with a degree of fortitude that surprised himself. Silence.

“I wish Charlene and I were like that,” Henry said, then paused. “I think she’s cheating on me.”

Tim considered the words, then reached out and gripped the guy’s shoulder.

“If she is, she’s not worth it.” He said with evenness. “You’re better than that.” Henry just nodded to himself.

“How do you want to handle in there,” he said, nodding towards the office.

“Didn’t we just fall over, when we were mucking around?” Tim nodded and gave a tight smile in return. “Sorry I was a jerk.” Tim gave another nod. They were down.

At lunch, the canteen behaved less like the entrance hall than it could have. The guys still found themselves attracting a lot of attention. As they sat at their normal table with the group, they considered friends, there was a definite frost in the air.

“How come you didn’t trust us to tell us you’re a couple?” question one.

“Nah, fuck that.” Said another, “you’re gay! and we find out on Facebook!”

The conversation went back and forth for the entire forty-five-minute break. Stu and Tim did their best to explain the whirlwind nature of them hooking up, but it didn’t cut through.

Stu waited at the front gates as the long school day ended. Three minutes later Tim texted to say he’d been given detention and he see him at home. Stu took the bus, alone.

* * * *

School the next day was a slightly quieter version of the day before. The boys were still being avoided by some of the students, conversations had a strange edge to them. At the team gym session, the situation Stu and Tim faced came to the surface. The locker room was oddly quiet as they arrived, the usual banter, missing.

“You need to think about your place on the squad Bolton,” started Thompson as the first team mate to have a go, “You too, Baxter.”

“Why?” questioned Tim.

“Because we don’t carry fairies.” He answered.

“We earn our keep.” Stu shot back.

“Yeah, well keep that in mind,” Derek answered getting to his feet, “you’ve seen the reserve list, there’s a dozen guys who want your spot.”

“So?” responded Stu, now getting to his feet to match the energy of the antagonists.

“So, have another game like you pair of lover boys had last week, you’ll be gone!”

“Cut the chat!” boomed the coach as he stood at the door, “now, you lot get the fuck out on the floor or you’ll be finishing with ten laps.” The room made double time.

Training was intense, the team was definitely feeling the pressure of only three games left before the start of the finals. Tim and Stu found themselves generally unsupported, weights were left on the deck, not handed to them. They had to bar spot each other, when everyone else was ‘too busy’. More out of defiance than anything else, Tim insisted Stu hold him in a handstand, he held 45 seconds.

* * * *

“Your folks get home tomorrow?” Asked Stu, as they unpacked their kit in the laundry.

“Yeah, Mum says she wants me home straight after school, for a serious talk.”

“Fuck man,” said Stu, “do you want me to be there?” Tim put his head down and teared up.

“Thanks man, I knew I liked you for a reason.” He replied before taking a moment. ‘I think I better field this one on my own. Looks like someone has ‘informed’ them of my condition.” He smiled.

“Well, if it gets out of control, come stay here.” Stu offered. Tim just nodded and finished his kit. As he did a paper fluttered to the floor.

“What’s that?” asked Stu, as his boyfriend squatted to pick it up.

A single word was scrawled on the envelope sized sheet, “QUIT”.

“What the fuck is this?” asked Tim as he turned the paper over to see the back was blank. Stu immediately checked his bag and found what he’d suspected he would, a note with a single word, the same as Tim’s.

“This is someone on the team.” Declared Tim.

“Who? Thompson?” asked Stu.

“Not his style,” answered Tim, “he’s more in your face than this hiding shit.”

“Wow dude, being gay is too much hassle.” Said Stu in full lament. Tim nodded beside him.

* * * *

The Baxter household, wasn’t its normal jovial abode, on the Wednesday afternoon Tim strolled in to the kitchen. In truth, he’d had to stop himself from disrobing at the front door. That would have added to the fun, he thought as he rounded the kitchen door and found his parents sitting at the table.

“Hello Son,” said his father, “Take a seat, we need to talk about some things we want to get straight.”    

The family conversation lasted a full hour. It started out with flat denials. No, Tim wasn’t involved with the bashing. No, he had no idea who had been in the old car. No, he had no doubt he was the man he’d picked out of the police line-up.

After the violent assault questions were done, Tim’s parents raised Stuart. Discussion started awkwardly and descended from there. Later that night he called his boyfriend.

“Hey Bro, how did the talk with the ’olds’ go?” asked Stu, happy to get the call. Tim seemed oddly quiet. Stu quickly realised; the guy couldn’t speak. Not knowing what to do, Stu just stayed on the line.

After a time, Tim managed to get a few words out, it seemed to clear the blockage.

“They don’t understand,” he said, “They think it’s just a stage I’m going through. Fuck I’ve been going down this path longer than you, and your dad seems fine with it!”

“Hang on, he wasn’t at the start,” Stu corrected, “sure he caught up quick. Maybe they just need a few days?”

“Maybe.” He paused. “They say I’m only allowed to see you at school and sport.”

“Wow, I turned you gay?” Stu asked, a hint of comic in his voice. “Naughty Stu, turning good straight people to the dark side!” Now Tim laughed. It was good to hear.

“Let’s give it a few days, doesn’t matter what they say, you’re still my boyfriend.” Stu declared.

“I didn’t tell them that,” Tim confessed. “I think it could have pushed them over the edge.”

The boys chatted back and forth for another half hour before they bid goodnight and hung up.” Stu knew he wasn’t going to sleep, and went downstairs for no good reason. He found his father in the den and before he knew it he was talking the whole situation through with him.” Kevin didn’t really say anything, except as Stu drew to a close.

“Parents don’t really have any idea on how to be parents. Especially with the first born. Everything is new. The Baxter’s are good people, I’d trust them with you any day of the week. They’ll come round.”

* * * *

School didn’t seem to be shifting. The boys prophesied that this could be their new world. The cleaners had removed the graffiti off their lockers, but it was back again and bigger the next day.

Thursday’s after school team training left the guys exhausted. They were taking bigger hits than usual. That’s the way it felt anyway. Travis Harris had shot his mouth off in the locker room when all but a few of the team had left.

“You guys keep away from me in the showers, you freaks.” He spat.

“Fuck off Harris.” Retorted Tim. “We’ll do what we want, if you want to take the stalls instead of the gang, go for it.”

“Just saying stay away.” He replied, “Gays can start their own team if they want!”

“Whatever.” Said Stu, picking up his bag and making for the door. As he turned, he found Coach standing there, arms crossed. As Stu went to say something, the guy simply turned and left. Thanks Coach, the boy thought.

As they stepped off the bus and prepared to head home their separate ways, the pair embraced and kissed.

“See you tomorrow you stud.” Said Stu, surprising himself. “I’ve been so fucken horny; I miss my cum vacuum guy.” He smiled as he reached down and gently rubbed Tim through the front of his sports shorts.

“Now look what you’ve done.” Exclaimed Tim, looking down at his crutch. They both laughed. 

“Do you think this is all going to get better?” Stu asked, slightly down.

“Don’t know.” Replied Tim, telling the truth. “Glad I’m going through it with you though, especially since my parents are being jerks.”

“Me too, see you tomorrow.” Said Stu, setting off toward home.

A block and a half away Stu passed the place on Picnic Avenue, where the old car had been. If only they had walked a different route.

* * * *

Saturday’s game was the easiest the team had enjoyed in more than a month. The winning margin was a confidence boost, and everyone had put in a strong performance. For Tim and Stu, it was a great relief to be able to put last week’s disaster behind them.

As everyone left the field, Tim noted the Reserve squad had been watching on intently. He saw the Coach acknowledge them and keep walking. Something was amiss here; he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

That night the boys spent their first Saturday night apart for months. Before, through and after dinner, Tim found himself unusually quiet. He wasn’t trying to be difficult, he just felt flat. When either of his parents engaged him, he was quick to answer, cheerful for the duration of the response and quiet when it concluded. He was down, he’d snap out of it, wouldn’t he?

Stu was having an easier time and actually spent the evening completing a light workout in the garage. Today’s game hadn’t been too tough, and the makeshift garage gym was a good distraction. As he completed his third handstand against the wall, he wondered for the tenth time what Tim was doing.

Strangely, Tim was doing handstands in his bedroom at that precise moment. He’d found during the week that short intense physical bursts, had helped his mood. He needed that tonight.

* * * *

Around Wednesday of the following week, Kevin took a call from the local police. The detective assigned to the bashing case called with an update.

“We wanted to let you know we’ve made an arrest in the Picnic Avenue case.” He advised.

“So Stuart won’t have to be involved?” Asked Kevin, already knowing that was an unlikely outcome.

“I’m afraid not, Stuart and the other boy’s testimony is the only evidence so far, putting this guy at the scene.” The officer informed. “As we’ve discussed before, we’re likely to find other evidence, but if we don’t, the boys will have to take the stand.”

“That’s a lot for two seventeen-year olds.” Said Kevin.

“We know, but they’ll be eighteen when the trial arrives.”

“It will go to trial?” Asked Kevin, seeking confirmation.

“These ‘life of crime guys’ always go to trial.” Replied the officer. “This guy is well up in the local criminal ranks. It would have to be an incident of enormous pressure for him to take a plea-bargain. Frankly, I’m not even sure what such a thing could be.”

The cop explained he was about to call the Baxters, and hung-up. Kevin wondered what this was all going to be like. He found himself fearing for his son. He looked at the handset and decided to make a quiet phone call, just as a precaution.

The arrest was broken to the media the next morning. Stu and Tim found themselves again being featured on the broadcast news. As could be expected, Facebook went wild, and school returned to its hyper active state. For the rest of the week, Stu and Tim again found themselves isolated. Mentally, it was exhausting.

“Are your parents coming around?” asked Stu as they stepped off the bus.

“A little, I heard them arguing the other night in their bedroom.” Tim paused. “Stu, they never argue. Not like this. Do you think it’s my fault?”

“Even if it is dude.” Stu answered. “What can you do? You’re more in touch with yourself than me. We’re gay, if people openly hate us like Harris, or don’t want to sit with us at lunch. I don’t know what the fuck we can do?”

“I found another two slips telling me to quit the team.” Revealed Tim.

“Where?” Asked Stu.

“One pushed through the vent of my locker. One stuck to the lab work in Science B.” Answered Tim.

“I found another in my bag.” Said Stu, his head down. “Why should we quit man? We’ve been on this team for three years! This is the first time we’ve been close to getting a championship ring, our last chance!” Stu started to tear up, the pressure showing.

* * * *

The following Tuesday, the team found themselves bunched tight in the gym change rooms. The after-school session had been intense, the room was tired. Coach had called a rare end of training meeting. Different to usual squad pep talks, the Reserves had been invited.

Waiting for Coach to arrive, and for the Reserves to get themselves arranged, Henry Carson Showed off his new Samsung cell. Everyone was seriously impressed; it had all the latest features! He was generous with it too, he freely passed it around the nearby group for everyone to get a good look.

As Coach walked in, Henry grabbed it back, mindful that the man had no appreciation of tech. He set the screen and sat it beside him on the bench, if he touched it, he knew he’d get laps next training.

“As you know we beat Fulton last weekend,” Coach started, dominating the room from the centre of the space. “They matched us for three quarters. Only our fitness dragged us across the line. The scores didn’t look even in the end, but for three parts, we could have been over run.” The man paused to make sure everyone was paying attention.

“We’ve got Canterbury this Saturday.” He continued. “The last match of the season before we hit the finals.” He paused, clearly setting up for the dramatic. “I’m speaking to the Reserves now. This is it! First chance in seven years to play for the championship!” He boomed. “Do whatever you have to do to get on the team! I mean anything! Understand this, if you’re not on the team, you’ve got no chance of getting a ring.”

“Do you understand?” he bellowed.

“Yes Sir!” The Reserves screamed.

“I can’t hear you!” The Reserves almost raised the roof.

* * * *

As Tim and Stu stepped off the bus, they prepared to go their own ways.

“Coach was ‘full on’.” Said Tim.

“He’s just trying to hype the team to retain their spots,” agreed Stu, “no one wants to get cut, so everyone puts in 110%.”

“You still doing your handstands?” asked Tim.

“Yeah, up to a minute and a half now.” Replied Stu. “I’m worried dad will see the marks on the wall. What about you?”

“I did one fifty last night, I’ve been aiming for two mins, but just can’t get there.” Answered Tim.

“That’s good man, wish I could be there with you.” Lamented Stu.

“Me too man, me too.”

They kissed and parted; it was the worst part of every day. As each walked home, the loneliness of dealing with shit began to weigh on them, especially Tim. Arriving after dinner, he microwaved his set aside meal and ate alone. At different times his mother would come down to chat, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. He quietly decided, next year he’d head to college as soon as the campus opened, he couldn’t deal with the suppression, the denial.

* * * *

The nearby suburb of Doveton wasn’t normally known for its criminal activity. That night though, while Tim was finishing his meal, and Stu was contemplating handstands, residents of the quiet area could be forgiven for thinking something was amiss. Two hooded guys sat in the dim light of their local park. Their tones were hushed as they put the final touches of the plan together.

It had started as a wild idea. Tonight though, they’d been cleared to proceed. They confirmed the time, place and who would do what. The final task was the wording of the threat.

* * * *

The next day the police informed the Baxter’s and Kevin that the accused basher had been denied bail, he’d stay in prison. More distressingly, the victim’s health was deteriorating. He was already on life support, but wasn’t expected to live beyond the weekend. The parents decided not to tell the boys that the charge may be upgraded to murder.

Kevin didn’t want to distract his son from the big finals, and the Baxter’s remained worried sick over how Tim was drawing deep into himself. They were losing him, and didn’t have any idea of how to arrest the descent.

That night, the night before all hell broke loose, Stu managed a one minute fifty handstand.

Tim on the other hand rejected his father’s attempts to have a ‘sensible’ discussion, about his moping at dinner and around the house.  

* * * *

The last training session of the regular season wasn’t a walk in the park. Coach being Coach pushed the squad to the limit. The Reserves had been given the night off, as the main team worked drill after drill. As darkness crept in, end of day was called, and the team shuffled off to head home.

Their bus exit and good bye kiss behind them, Stu and Tim made their tired way through the quiet residential streets.

Tim was only half a block from the bus stop, when he realised someone was barely twenty steps behind him. A resident walking his dog, was his first thought as he turned to look. At that moment a second guy stepped from behind the tree just ahead. He slammed a baseball bat into Tim’s mid-section.

The strike had been intended to hit the guy directly across the stomach, but Tim hadn’t turned that far. The blow struck his lower left abdomen and left kidney. Partially winded and in the worst pain he’d ever felt, Tim instantly fell to the ground, semi screaming. The batter stepped up beside him, planning to land a second blow. This time he’d get the guy’s guts properly. As he swung, Tim reached to block the arc, the bat crashed into his arm, breaking his wrist in two places. The pain was inconceivable, the teenager blacked in and out of consciousness.

As one of the attackers knelt to threaten Tim, a car glided effortlessly around the corner. The female driver was utterly confused by what she saw. Someone had fallen over? No something else was happening! Hooded guys were suddenly running towards her, past her, away. She brought the car to a halt, its lights on the crumpled youth ahead. Oh my god!

“OK Google, call emergency services,” She instructed immediately. Call done, she rushed to the victim’s side. Lights were coming on, as home owners came to investigate.

* * * *

Stu decided to amble home, he had the longer walk, and wanted the time to himself. School wasn’t getting any easier, he sighed. The Team dynamics were degenerating to just plain crazy. Not for the first time, he asked was it worth it.

As he turned into Picnic Avenue, he couldn’t help but look to where the old car had been parked. He wondered if he’d ever be able to walk this street, without thinking about it.

He thought about the guy, now dying in hospital. Kevin hadn’t told him, but it didn’t take too much to work out, the victim was getting worse. He’d stopped and stared back in contemplation.

When he turned to look further along the street towards home, he saw the entrance of the cut through lane-way up ahead. Wised up locals, rarely used it, even though it shaved minutes off the walk to the bus. Poison ivy was dotted along its parts, it wasn’t worth the risk.

For a second, he was sure he’d heard something. Now all he could hear were sirens in the distance. Were they getting closer? Busy night for the ambos he thought as he pressed on.

Two houses later and with better aim, Tim’s attacker stepped from the shadows and managed to hit Stu right on target. The boy immediately bent as his body experienced the shock of the strike across his centre, he dropped to his knees. Internally amazed that this could be happening. The guy with the bat, casually handed it to his co-attacker, now that the jerk could be expected to stay down.

Stu, drawing on strength he didn’t know he had, pushed himself to stand. The assailant panicked and swung towards Stu’s left leg. When the wood connected, Stu felt himself falling. It was the last thing he remembered, he crashed to the ground, his head bouncing hard off the asphalt.

“Oh, fuck Matthew’s, what the fuck did you do!” screamed the former bat holder.

“Shut your mouth Taylor, I didn’t know he was going to get up. Why the fuck did he get up!”

“Oh, fuck man, he’s hit his head! Fuck man! He’s bleeding!”

“What are you up to out there?” Came a gruff voice from the house to the left. Porch lights suddenly blazed illuminating the already well-lit street, further.

“Jesus man, what the fuck! Why did he stand?” Bat holder repeated almost incoherently.

“You out there, what’s going on?” An old guy was coming down his driveway.

Matthews and Taylor immediately fled.”

As the veteran arrived at Stu, he could hardly believe what he was seeing. He looked up to see his wife emerging from the house on to the porch. One by one, houses both sides of the street came to life, lights turning on.

“Susan,” yelled the old fellow from the street, “Call Emergency, this boy’s in a bad way, oh fuck son, hold on. Susan, do it now!” She was already gone.