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There were times Jacob wished he weren’t a Williams Boy.
The title were a thing of pride for his brothers and cousins and uncles. His dad had never been around, but he were sure the same thing could be said for him. They were legends. Heroes. Fun makers. They were a bright spark on an otherwise dull and uninspired town. Causing trouble, chaos and pure joy everywhere they went.
Jacob loved spray painting dicks and ding dong ditching and running a muck. He loved climbing trees, and throwing rocks and pushing kids into puddles just because he could. He loved that he had a family who were unashamedly proud of who they were. That they stood by each other, no matter what.
There were other things he didn’t love.
He was twelve years old when his brother Brucie explained “the facts of life” to him, before proceeding to lock him in a closet with Mandy Mitner. She blushed and stammered and closed her eyes, expectantly. Jacob brushed his hands awkwardly through his unruly ginger hair, and when they were let out five minutes later, the look of disappointment in her face was clear for all to see.
There were three things that set a Williams Boys apart from others in King Falls.
One: They were not a gang. Nor a cult. They were flesh and blood, and they treated each other as such, no matter the consequences.
Two: They could and would cause mischief, but they would never admit to it. Or throw each other under the bus. No matter the consequences.
Three: Except when it came to kissing and telling. They always kissed and told.
Which is why it felt so wrong when Jacob Williams (aged 15) kissed Troy Krieghauser aged 16), behind the bleachers one Thursday afternoon and knew he could never tell anybody. Not his mammy, not his sister. Definitely not any of his brothers, or cousins.
Not because kissing a boy were inherently wrong or shameful, but because being a Williams Boy came with a certain set of standards. Just like being Troy Krieghauser came with a certain set of standards.
“I can’t date a Williams boy,” Troy had said, hands shaking, lips swollen and trembling, “what would my mama think.”
Jacob were okay with that, really. He told himself so, anyway. Being a
boy
weren’t the issue here - Jacob couldn’t care less about that - but being a
Williams Boy
, and all that came along with that, well. That weren’t a thing he could change. He knew about Troy’s Dad. He knew about Troy’s hang ups. He knew Troy liked him anyway, and nothing else seemed to matter.
Troy helped him with his homework, and came to all his football games, and they held hands in secret sometimes too. They kissed a lot. (They kissed not enough.)
Jacob dodged questions about never dating girls, and persuaded his brothers to leave Troy alone. He was an easy target for them, being so openly and unabashedly good. Ben Arnold and his friends were a good enough substitute, Jacob insisted.
Things were okay, really. A year passed, and then two. They fell into a steady rhythm and things felt good. Really good. Then suddenly they were graduating. Jacob only barely perhaps, but thanks to Troy, graduating.
Troy spoke fondly on his friends who all had big plans about running away from King Falls and never looking back. Jacob would’ve felt nervous, except he knew Troy loved King Falls more than anything. He’d never leave. Jacob would have him forever, if he wanted to.
Jacob wasn’t leaving, of course. He’d stay in town, and get a job. Maybe at the Bent-n-Dent, or at Rose’s. He’d never had big dreams, and he were happy not changing that. He’d help raise the next generation of Williams Boys, and teach them about graffiti and shenanigans, and leaving a mark and maybe one day, he and Troy could fall in love (for real.)
He believed it possible. Anything were possible when you were a Williams Boy.
The letter were in a bright red envelope and it were stained with tears.
“I got in,” Troy whispered to him letter clenched in his hand, and Jacob’s heart deflated in his chest.
“You ain’t making no sense,” Jacob had muttered, and Troy had bitten his lip despite not needing to explain at all.
“It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” his voice broke as he said the words, “you know that Jacob.”
“I ain’t stoppin’ you, but I thought Jacob Williams was all you ever wanted,” and Troy sighed defeatedly
“I warned you I couldn’t date a Williams Boy.”
Jacob’s voice was full of venom as he replied, “Whatever you says, Deputy.”
(And Troy would leave, tears staining his thin, pale face, and Jacob would watch him go, telling himself he didn’t care enough to try to stop him. He would watch him for years to come. As he graduated to deputy smiling and waving around his badge with glee. As he protected and served. As he fell in love with the girl he would later marry, and as he ate pancake puppies with Sammy and Ben and Tim and a dozen other people he deemed “good”. He’d see the casual, lazy way he were affectionate with everybody he knew, and his heart would ache. He’d get himself arrested more times then were necessary to spend just a moment in the presence of the only person he’d ever wanted to be good for. Even if all he could get out when in handcuffs were innuendos and withering looks that would make Troy blush and stammer and shake. He’d warn the other Williams Boys that Troy were out of bounds, and they would listen. He’d think about all the times he’d pushed Troy against the crumbling brick walls in the dodgy school bathrooms, pressing kisses to every part of his body he could reach, fiddling with his belt and tugging down his pants. He’d think about their initials scribbled in a heart underneath the bleachers where they’d shared their first kiss and hundreds more. He’d think about the time Troy had whispered that he loved him, and the way he’d rolled his eyes before replying with something snarky in return - if only to get Troy more wound up than he always was. Jacob would forever hear the exasperation, the softness, the pity in Troy’s voice as he said his name, and wish every single time that he weren’t a Williams Boy.)
( But he always would be.)