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They normally meet at one of their houses after school, but it’s not rare for Chris to text Darren that he’ll be late. He’ll either hang behind for a bit with the lunch ladies and get cookie dough ready for the next school day, or he’ll get stuck sitting in forty-four minutes of detention for getting caught while making a snide remark to some teenage douchebag or for showing up late to class.
They met in middle school but ended up going to different high schools in the same district. They get out of school at the same time, and since it doesn’t make sense for Darren to drive all the way home only to head right over to Chris’, if Chris tells him he’ll be a few minutes late then he’ll just head straight over to Chris’ house and make himself at home in Chris’ room.
Chris’ mom always lets him in with a smile--sometimes polite, other times perfunctory--and Darren makes his way up to Chris’ room where he’ll listen to music or read a book or get homework done until Chris shuffles in anywhere from a few minutes late to nearly an hour. Sometimes they pull into Chris’ driveway at the same time, or Darren just a few minutes after Chris.
On this particular day Darren is forewarned that Chris will be late, and he decides to forego homework and instead peruses through Chris’ bookshelves to see if he can find an interesting comic book to read through or a magazine--just something to waste his time. Nothing grabs his attention as he makes his way through the shelves, but then he comes to a black bound book that’s nestled and hiding in the back corner of the shelf, next to the children’s fiction that Chris loves but Darren always shies away from.
He pulls it out, running his hand over the fake leather. It looks like a journal or a planner, and without even thinking of it he opens it to a random page about a fourth of the way through.
It’s dated from a few months ago.
Another shitty day in Clovis. Literally counting the days until I can get out of this podunk town and move to LA or Chicago or New York or San Francisco or Seattle or literally ANYWHERE other than this horrible fucking place. Every day I’m stuck here is one more day I feel like my soul is being ripped apart. It’s not even the horrible homophobic bigots in my school that annoy me the most. There’s just literally NOTHING to do here. The theatre company is okay, but I feel like I’m not being pushed enough or utilized enough or taught anything. I hate cow tipping, so that pretty much knocks out any weekend plans because there are only so many times I can go to the movies or mini-golf (which I HATE by the way, but Darren loves it so I go anyway). There is literally NOTHING to do in this fucking town. Ugh, I hate it so much.
Darren furrows his eyebrows and flips a few pages forward, plopping down at Chris’ desk.
John called me a faggot today in the lunch room--loudly--and then asked what it was like to, and I quote, “Take it up the ass.” I winked at him and said, “Don’t you remember?” Then he tried to punch me and I had to run into the kitchen and hide behind the lunch ladies. Totally worth it though to see his face, even if it ended in me getting a detention for being late to class for the third time. I’m serving it tomorrow. Told Darren to show up late but he refused and said he’d just hang out in my room and wait for me. I have no idea why he wants to do that so often instead of grabbing ice cream with some friends or going for a run or, I don’t know, playing some instruments. Learning a monologue. Perfecting one of his numerous talents.
Darren reads through a few more journal entries, piecing them together. He’s mentioned in quite a few of them, Chris’ parents and family in some, his bullies and friends, too. But the common thread is how Chris can’t wait to get out of this town. He brainstorms getting into college. Not community college either, which is where Chris’ parents always say he’s going to go. Where Chris himself laments having to apply to. But real, actual college . A four year institution with the word University tacked onto the end of it. One that’s far away from Clovis.
Far away from Darren.
The UC schools are moderately priced, and according to CollegeBoard they give out scholarships. My grades aren’t that good, but I’ve been working harder this year and they’ve improved. Plus, I have all of next year to bring them up the rest of the way. Maybe I can get waitlisted somewhere and then all I’ll have to do is ace my senior year and then send them my transcript.
Or a different state school. They’re cheap, I can work and go to school. I’ve been saving money all year. It’s not a lot, but like I said before, I have another year to work on that. I can keep saving, stop going to the movies so much, tell Darren that we should cut back on late night trips to 7-Eleven. Or we can just keep getting the large Slurpees and share them. Strictly just to cut back on costs. Not because it’s a couple-y thing to do and I can pretend for a second that he likes me like that.
Darren feels sick. He feels nauseous, his stomach churning. He’s known Chris since the sixth grade. That’s six years. Six years and he hasn’t once mentioned wanting to apply for schools out of Clovis. As a matter of fact, whenever Darren would mention it and try to push Chris into expanding his horizons instead of settling for community college, Chris would snap at him and tell him to shut up. He’d hit below the belt and tell Darren that not everyone is as rich and wealthy as Darren is. That not everyone has a trust fund to help get them through college, or parents that excitedly support such adventurous an expensive endeavors..
So Darren has stopped bringing it up. Stopped bringing up college in general, because he didn’t want to talk about applying out of state and flying to different cities to tour colleges if it meant having to see Chris’ face go blank or harden in jealousy or envy or anger or resentment. He didn’t want to have to tell Chris about looking into new schools far away when he knows that Chris has to stay. Chris knows Darren isn’t going to stay in Clovis, and he doesn’t think that Chris begrudges him for that. But still, college is not a topic they talk about. They both know each other’s plans (or at least Darren thought he did), but nothing concrete is ever mentioned.
And that last part, about feeling like he and Darren were a couple?
Darren pages through the journal some more, paying close attention to the number of times his name shows up.
Darren is on this stupid kick where he sends me stupid selfies of him doing stupid things. I get pictures of him lying shirtless in bed giving a duck face, sitting on the toilet making a disgusted face, seductively licking an ice cream cone. He even sent me a picture of him picking up dog poop from when he walked his neighbor’s dog. It was gross. What was grosser was how cute he looked while doing it. It was sunny out, and it made his eyes sparkle.
Darren flips to a new page.
Darren is an asshole. Oh my god, he annoys me so much. Got stuck hanging out with him and all his stupid friends from his stupid high school last night. We were supposed to go to the movies but then he called and begged me to mini golfing and Go Kart racing with his friends instead. It wasn’t that bad, and his friends were all nice to me. But I had to sit and watch Carly hit on him again. Seriously, the girl is so vapid. And Darren’s an idiot because he doesn’t see it, even when I tell him what she’s doing. But then we got to share a Go Kart together, and I practically had to sit on his lap.
Take that Carly!
He’s so stupid, why do I even like him?
Darren’s stomach turns again. He flips to the latest entry. The newest one. The one from yesterday.
I hate this town. I hate everything about it. I’d kill to get out. If I have to spend another three years here, finish high school and then go to community college for two years, I’ll kill myself. I mean, not actually kill myself. But I think I’d die. I think this town would kill me. It sucks out the joy and the life and the enthusiasm and vigor out of me. I can’t be the only one though. But I sometimes I feel like I am. I honestly feel like this town is slowly trying to suffocate me until I just lose all motivation and ambition, and I feel like I have no one I can talk to about it. At least, not really talk to.
One more year. One more year and I swear even if I don’t get accepted to college or I can’t afford it and my parents refuse to cosign a loan, I swear I will just take off. I have a savings account with all the money my parents have put aside since I was born. I don’t have the account number but I’ll get it. Plus the money I’ve been saving the last year. I will just take off and head to LA and audition and get a shitty place to live and work as a waiter and finally get a boyfriend and friends who like me.
The minute I graduate I will get in my car and drive away, and then I’ll never have to see anyone from this town ever again.
Actually, screw graduation! I won’t even wait. Once I finish all my finals I’m out. I won’t even stay for the rest of school. I don’t need to walk at graduation. Even if I get into school somewhere, I think I’ll just leave. Go there early. Maybe take summer classes, or just get a job.
But that’s it. This is my new plan. The day after I finish my last final exam senior year, I’m getting in my car with my bags packed and I’m leaving.
One more year.
Darren wants to read more, but he feels so guilty for reading what he already has. He feels guilt and shame, anger and hurt. He feels both like he’s betrayed someone he loves, and that someone he loves has betrayed him.
He leaves the journal open on that last page and grabs a Post-It note from Chris’ drawer. He writes on top in big letters,
You could have talked to me.
He sticks it right on the page, then he leaves. He leaves before the tears can fall, though he doesn’t quite make it out before they fall hot and heavy on his cheeks. He blows past Chris’ sister and mom, wiping his eyes on his shirtsleeve as he runs out the front door and throws himself into his car as fast as possible. He wants to get out of there before Chris gets home.
He wipes his face clean after he pulls up to his house, because he doesn’t want him mom to notice anything. Thankfully he doesn’t pass her at all, instead just shouting a general “Hello! I’m home!” to anyone that can hear him. Then he locks himself in his room and turns on some music and falls onto his bed.
He doesn’t stay there long, his antsy energy getting the best of him. He tries playing some music but nothing feels right. He wants to play something loud and angry, but also something soft and depressing. He can’t get a hold of his emotions, so when his phone starts vibrating in his pocket he grabs it, assuming it’s Chris.
It’s not. It’s his friend Henry asking if he wants to grab ice cream with a bunch of people at a local farm. He contemplates it for a second and ultimately decides that hanging out with people right now would prove to be the best distraction. He doesn’t want to think about Chris or his invasion of Chris’ privacy, or how Chris plans on up and leaving Darren the before the ink dries on his final grades.
He gets a text when he’s driving there, but doesn’t read it until after he’s parked and stepping out of his car.
You shouldn’t have read my journal.
Yeah well its too late for that.
Darren says hi to his friends and they all walk inside the little shop so they can grab ice cream.
Those were my personal thoughts and feelings. It’s a journal, Darren. Not everything should be taken at face value.
Its cool. Its fine. Now I know that our friendship has a handy dandy expiration date
Stop being so dramatic. Can we just talk about this? In person?
I can’t. Im 2 busy hanging out w people that dont plan 2 ditch me the first moment they can
Btw since we’re being honest w each other, I had a crush on you too. Guess that doesnt matter now
After that he pockets his phone and orders a cone with two different flavors: Moose Tracks and Peanut Butter Cup, because he’s pretty sure he deserves it.
He forces a smile while he walks around the farm with his friends and looks at the few animals they have. He laughs when they all go to the batting cages and decide to try to super fast speed cage and his friend ends up cowering in fear after the first pitch gets thrown.
He doesn’t check his phone. He ignores the buzzing. He does it out of spite, and he hopes that the few pictures that his friends take--of him with everyone happy and smiling--get posted to Facebook.
He hopes that Chris sees them.
***************************
Darren ignores the messages and missed calls that Chris sent, and for the first time in his life he’s happy that he and Chris don’t go to the same school. It makes it easier knowing that he doesn’t have to face Chris the next day.
It’s a shame that it doesn’t last, though. Because when Darren pulls up to his house after school he sees Chris parked on the street and leaning against his car, his arms crossed, and he looks entirely unimpressed and far too cool to be hanging out with Darren.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” Darren says tightly, walking past Chris and heading towards his driveway.
“Well that’s too damn bad, Darren, because we are gonna talk.”
“About what? How you’re leaving me next year?” Darren spits.
“Well you know what, Darren?!” Chris yells for anyone on the street to hear. “You’re leaving me, too!”
It gives Darren pause, and he stops walking and turns back towards Chris.
“Fine,” he says taking a few steps before he reaches the passenger door of Chris’ car. “We can talk. But not here.”
Chris rolls his eyes and gets back in his car.
“Where to?” Chris asks.
“I don’t care,” Darren says, crossing his arms.
They’re quiet when they drive. Chris doesn’t go far, just to a local park that’s jam packed with young kids and their families enjoying the warm spring weather.
Chris parks and gets out. Darren follows. Chris heads towards the walking path which is far less populated. It’s long and it winds through trees and bushes, giving the illusion of separation.
“That was my journal,” Chris starts, his words underlined with hurt. “My journal . I don’t read yours, Darren. Even though I know you keep it under your mattress. Even though you’ve shown it to me. I don’t read it. Because it’s none of my business.”
Darren blushes and guilt fills him quickly. “I didn’t know it was your journal,” he says. “I know that’s not an excuse, but I didn’t. And once I started I couldn’t stop.”
“That’s not an apology.”
“I’m sorry,” Darren says forcefully, seriously. “But I read it, and now I wanna talk about it.”
Chris sighs deeply and they keep walking at a leisurely pace, passing the occasional power walking mom with a stroller or dog.
“I don’t know where to start. I don’t know what you’ve read, or how much. I write a lot, Darren. I write a lot of contradicting things. Some of it is calculated and thought out, but sometimes it’s just passion and hurt and anger.”
“How come you never talk about college with me? How come you have this whole plan about just leaving Clovis by yourself and you never even thought to talk it out with me? You have to know that I’d have helped you, Chris.”
Chris shakes his head. “You don’t understand. You have money , Darren. You have grades. Extracurriculars. You’ve lived all over the country. Your parents don’t care how far you go. Your brother’s already made it out of the West Coast. I have nothing. And I didn’t want to tell you that I’ve been thinking about doing this because then if I can’t do it--if it doesn’t work--then I’ll feel like a failure. And I don’t want you to have to see me fail. I don’t want to have to wave goodbye to my best friend knowing that I’ll be stuck here and he’ll be off having the time of his life.”
“Chris, I’d have helped you. I want to help you.”
“Maybe I don’t want your help,” Chris says, with a hint of bite. “Maybe I want to do this alone. Prove to myself and everyone that I don’t need anyone.”
“Of course you need someone, don’t be stubborn,” Darren spews. “You always keep shit to yourself. It’s stupid. It’s your biggest character flaw.”
“Yeah, well you have a loud mouth and you never know when to shut it.” Chris shoots back.
“Maybe so, but at least I don’t keep my feelings buried deep down for no one to see.”
“Chyeah, right,” Chris says, oozing sarcasm.
They’ve walked enough that they’re deep in the walking path, and there’s no one around them.
“What do you mean?” Darren asks, hurt and anger mixing inside him.
“You’re so open about your feelings, huh?” Chris says caustically. “Like how apparently you have a crush on me.”
“It’s not like you ever told me you did either!” Darren half shouts.
“ You’re supposed to be straight! ” Chris hollers, and he stops. He just stares at Darren, his hands thrown out plaintively. “You’re supposed to be straight! And here you are telling me that you like me. Why the hell would I have told you when I thought that you wouldn’t be able to reciprocate?!”
“I never told you I was straight!” Darren shoots back.
“You’ve never told me you weren’t. And you’ve only dated girls.”
“I told you I had a crush on Tom Daley!”
“Who doesn’t have a crush on Tom Daley!” Chris yells.
Darren leans forward and kisses Chris, cutting him off. It’s dry. It’s hard. It hurts at first. It doesn’t really get better, and it certainly doesn’t reach the Top Five kisses of Darren’s life. But something about it feels right .
When he pulls back they’re both panting.
“If you leave Clovis, I want to be a part of it. I want to help you, whether that’s finding schools and scholarships for you, or looking into cities and housing and jobs, or or, or just being there when you need to talk and vent. Because I am going to leave this town next year. But I want you to leave it, too. And I want to share Big Gulps with you at 7-Eleven and not go to movies if it means saving money.”
Chris stands there silently, staring critically at Darren. His hands are in his jean pockets, and his chin is tilted down as their eyes connect.
“Fine,” Chris says, his voice stone cold--tough, unbelieving--and he straightens up.
“Chris,” Darren says lightly. “I’m not lying. We’re gonna leave this town together, okay? Even if we don’t end up in the same city, we’re gonna do it together.”
He extends his hand into the open area between them and holds his breath. He doesn’t let it go until Chris grabs his hand in a tight fist.
“This town is gonna tear us apart, you know,” Chris says sadly.
“Never,” Darren replies. “I won’t let it.”