Something Like Winter Page 4

  All in all, a fairly normal first day of school.

  * * * * *

  “Timmy!”

  Krista Norman darted down the hall and put a hand on his arm. Funny how first impressions could be so wrong. Last week Krista had seemed so shy. Now she never stopped talking. Not that Tim minded much, since it meant less effort on his part. Usually he would daydream about other things while she rattled on.

  And Bryce, who had seemed so big and scary before… Well, he was still both those things, but he had warmed up to Tim, probably because he’d kept his distance from Stacy. And maybe Bryce didn’t worry about Tim getting anywhere with Krista, since more people than Darryl had since told him she was a prude. That was fine by him. Horny as Tim might be, he still felt shell-shocked from the rape rumors in Kansas.

  “Hey, faggot!” Bryce rumbled.

  Tim looked up and followed his gaze. The intended target was obvious, since he was the only guy standing still as everyone else hurried to class. Brown eyes stared at him from below perfectly styled blond hair, and for one moment, Tim thought of Corey.

  “He really is, you know,” Krista said in a stage whisper.

  The guy’s face turned red, but he seemed more angry than embarrassed. He glared at Bryce, even though he was skinny enough to be crushed by one of those ham fists. Then he waved sarcastically at Krista, imitating her snobby body language. The guy had guts! Finally he looked at Tim, as if he was still unsure about him. Tim returned the wave, which didn’t seem to please him, since he spun around and stalked off down the hall.

  “Who was that?”

  “Brian Bentley,” Krista said, rolling her eyes.

  “No, it’s Benjamin,” Bryce corrected, “as in bend over!”

  The joke didn’t make sense, but for Bryce it was probably his wittiest moment.

  “Walk me to class?” Krista said.

  “Yeah,” Tim answered distractedly.

  He said goodbye to Bryce and let Krista guide him down the hall. Krista started talking about a shopping trip or something involving shoes, Tim nodding along until they reached her class. Then he interrupted her.

  “How does anyone know?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “That Benjamin guy. How does anyone know he’s gay?”

  Krista looked repulsed. “Because he told everyone.”

  “Seriously?” Tim considered this in surprise. “That takes balls.”

  “More like he’s crazy. Who cares anyway? He’s just some loser.”

  “Well, if nobody cares, then why pick on him?” Tim had never understood the way popular kids picked on those who weren’t. He got along with everyone, really. But here, just like back in Kansas, being on top seemed to require making everyone below you miserable.

  Krista rolled her eyes. “Do you want me to get you his number or something?”

  “Why would I want it?” Tim said forcefully enough that she blanched.

  “I was just kidding. Geez.”

  Tim glared at her. “Why would you even joke about that? Huh?”

  Krista grasped for words and for once couldn’t find any.

  “I’ll see you during lunch.”

  Tim sulked his way down the hall. He had only asked a simple question. Krista didn’t need to jump to conclusions like that. Just because he didn’t hate someone for what they were, didn’t make him the same thing. He felt irritated at himself for even broaching the stupid subject. But once he was in class and had calmed down, part of him couldn’t help smile that there was someone crazy enough to stand up to Bryce Hunter.

  * * * * *

  Tim waited in line for lunch, the smell of greasy cafeteria food making his stomach growl. Bryce’s stomach roared back, echoing the sentiment. They did this every day, grabbing two trays each and bringing them back to Krista and Stacy like waiters on a date. Tim only started doing it because he enjoyed the quiet that came from leaving Krista at the table.

  “I’ve got this one.”

  They turned in unison, puzzled at Stacy’s presence.

  “What?” Bryce asked.

  “Today I’m bringing you your food. Go sit down.”

  Bryce shrugged and did as he was told, leaving Tim and Stacy alone for the first time. Tim knew this had never happened before because he made sure it didn’t. As hot as she was, Stacy scared the hell out of him. Maybe because she was as mean as Carla could be, except Stacy usually didn’t bother playing nice.

  Not that she couldn’t, when she wanted. A male teacher had once come up to her in the hall and asked why she had missed class. Stacy went all giggling dingbat, her every movement adorable and flirtatious. The teacher had forgiven her pretty quickly and headed down the hall, probably so no one would notice the growing tent in his pants.

  “Double date tonight,” Stacy said with a calculating smile. “Or at least, it was supposed to be.”

  “The four of us?” Tim asked.

  Stacy nodded. “Don’t you think it’s time you make it official? I know Krista is an idiot, but believe me, there are benefits to dating someone so stupid.”

  Tim didn’t reply.

  “You’re a very careful person,” Stacy said. “Why is that?”

  Tim shrugged and gave an easy smile. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

  “I didn’t say you did. Look, Krista thinks you’re mad at her. Something about Ben Bentley, the gay guy.”

  Tim played dumb. “Oh, is that his name?”

  There was a long pause before Stacy answered. “Yes. Yes, it is.” Forget Bryce. She was way scarier. What a monster couple they made! The beauty and the beast, but it was Stacy’s intelligence that made her dangerous.

  “Yeah, well, that guy smarted off to Krista,” Tim huffed, “and I wanted to know who he was. It pissed me off, that’s all.”

  Stacy searched his eyes, but seemed satisfied. “You like her, and she likes you, right?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Then ask her. Dinner and a movie, tonight. Unless you want people to start asking why you’re still single.”

  Stacy walked away. A minute later, her boyfriend was sent back over to wait in line with him.

  “I don’t understand women,” Bryce huffed.

  Tim did. He understood them all too well.

  Chapter Four

  Krista, as it turned out, made a decent girlfriend. Sure, she talked a lot, but when Tim did have something to say, she listened with rapt attention. She laughed at all his jokes and was so slender that she made Tim feel as big as Bryce. He liked that. He also appreciated that she had none of Carla’s meanness. Occasionally she could be a bitch, but only when she was following someone else’s lead, usually Stacy’s.

  Mostly she was just as happy and dumb as the doe he first pictured her as. Like today, when he hadn’t been in the mood for company. Instead of driving to school, he had walked. He forgot to tell her until the end of the day. When he mentioned he was jogging home, she didn’t mind having to find a ride. Carla would have chewed his head off, but Krista simply went with the flow.

  Tim was starting to realize she was safe. As he ran along the bike path on the way home, the fabric of his shorts feeling good against his package as it bounced around, Tim considered taking things further with her. He couldn’t be celibate his whole life, just because of what happened in Kansas. Krista didn’t seem the type to spread lies. With his parents out of town for the next two weeks, now was the perfect opportunity to get—

  Boom!

  Weight slammed into Tim from behind, knocking him off the path. Unfortunately, this particular path ran along a drainage ditch, a deep ravine which left him nowhere to go but down. Tim tumbled, rolling over and over, thankful that the ditch was grass and dirt and not hard concrete—until he skipped into the air at the end and landed on one leg with a crunch.

  Pain! It seared up from his leg and into the rest of his body, his brain burning as he swore out loud. He managed to roll off the leg, easing his suffering, and raised the limb into the air. Blood cover
ed one shin. As bad as that hurt, the source of the worst pain throbbed from further down.

  Tim carefully lowered his leg, putting pressure on it. A fresh wave of hurt washed over him. This wasn’t good.

  “Oh, god! I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” Someone slid down into the drainage ditch with him. Whoever it was, they were to blame!

  “What the hell happened?” Tim spat.

  “I don’t—I’m just a klutz.”

  The guy acted like he was going to pick Tim up and carry him to safety, which was ridiculous because he was so scrawny that Krista could probably take him in a fight. In fact, he looked familiar. They went to the same school, if Tim wasn’t mistaken.

  “Is your leg broken?”

  “Leg’s fine,” Tim looked back at it. “It’s my ankle that’s jacked.”

  The guy dropped to his knees to examine it, like he could fix it with a little tape and glue. Tim stared. Now he recognized him! Benjamin Bentley, shameless homosexual and brave glarer at Bryce. He had inline skates on his feet, which presumably had propelled him into Tim.

  “We have to get you to a doctor,” Ben said. “Can you walk?”

  Tim tried putting weight on his leg. Even though the worst of the pain had receded, walking on it now would bring it all back again. “You’re going to have to help me.”

  “Wait.” Ben flopped on to his rump and started undoing his skates.

  Tim watched him work. There wasn’t really anything feminine about him. Aside from being a little small he looked just like any other guy. Except apparently he couldn’t skate without leaving behind a wake of destruction. With the skates finally off, Ben dug in his backpack and pulled out a pair of shoes. Jesus, how long was this going to take?

  “Right.” Finally dressed for the occasion, Ben stood. “How do we do this?”

  Tim looked up the hill he had fallen down. “You pull me up there, I guess.”

  “Pull you how?”

  Ugh! Tim would die down here before he got this guy to do anything. “Just grab me under the arms and pull. I’ll help as much as I can.”

  Ben scuttled behind him, and Tim lifted his arms. After another uncertain pause, Ben’s arms hooked beneath his and pulled. Tim moved half an inch. Maybe. Now he was sure Krista could win that brawl. Ben pulled again, and this time Tim kicked with his good foot. Now they were getting somewhere! After some grunting and no doubt a ton of grass stains on his backside, they made it to the top.

  They both panted from the effort before Tim asked for help standing up. Ben handled this much better. Soon Tim had an arm draped over Ben’s shoulder for support. His ankle was still too sensitive for any pressure. Tim could kind of hop along with assistance, but it was slow going.

  “Okay.” Tim sighed. “I guess we make it to the nearest house and have them drive me home.”

  “Your house is really close if we cut through the trees there.”

  Tim tensed. What the hell was that supposed to mean? If Ben had only known his name, Tim wouldn’t have been surprised. That was one of the perks of being popular. But how could Ben know where he lived?

  “Let’s go, then,” Tim said. The sooner he got home, the sooner he could forget this had happened.

  Ben held tightly to him as they made their way through the trees, and for a moment Tim imagined himself being led to some pit dug in the woods where no one would see him again. Instead they reached a privacy fence. Left and right, that’s all there was—one long row of fences.

  “Fuck,” Tim swore. “How much further would it be if this fence wasn’t here?”

  Ben looked away, ashamed at having been called out. “Half a block.”

  Tim hopped toward the fence and grabbed its top. If they couldn’t get around it, they would go through it. “Support me,” he said. Tim yanked on the plank, muscles flexing with effort. Ben grabbed him just as the board came loose. Cheaply built, the fence only had two nails holding it in place. The plank fell to one side, so he worked another free, and then a third. Now they had plenty of room to squeeze through. If the owners saw them and came running, at least they could give Tim a ride the rest of the way home.

  As it turned out, the place was empty, not having been lived in yet. They were close to his neighborhood, all right. In fact, when they made it to the street, Tim saw they were just a few houses away.

  “Which one is yours?” Ben asked.

  “You tell me,” Tim snapped. A little late to play coy, stalker boy. He glared at Ben, who was staring at the ground, cheeks red. The rest of his skin had a nice tan, the edges of his blond hair bleached platinum from the sun. Tim’s hair never changed color like that. A sheen of sweat covered Ben’s upper lip, either from the heat or the exertion of supporting him. Was it the pain that rendered everything in such stark detail? Maybe they should head to the studio instead. Tim watched in fascination as Ben’s mouth formed a sentence.

  “Is anyone home?”

  “No.”

  “Then shouldn’t we drive straight to the hospital?”

  Which would involve his parents being called, and them being angry with him, like last time. Tim turned his attention back to the goal. “I just need to take the weight off my leg.”

  The front door was unlocked, the cold air inside already feeling good on his ankle. Thank god for air conditioning! Tim had left the curtains closed last night to keep the house cool. By this time of year, Kansas was usually dropping hints about fall, but summer seemed to reign eternal in Texas.

  He flipped a light switch and headed for the couch in his mother’s living room. That’s how he thought of it, since it was just as flowery and dainty as his father’s den was masculine. After lowering himself to the couch, wincing with every inch, he told Ben to fetch a washcloth and first aid kit from the bathroom. Once he got his leg cleaned up, it should be a lot easier to see the damage.

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t go to the hospital?” Ben held out a washcloth and a little first aid kit. “Or call a doctor at least?”

  “No need. Same thing happened to me freshman year.” And that was the other reason Tim wasn’t interested in football. “I still have a brace upstairs. A couple of days with that on, and I’ll be fine.”

  Ben was staring at him with saucer-sized eyes overflowing with guilt. “It’s just—”

  Tim cut him off. “Thanks for helping me get home.” Ben took the hint. Well, first he apologized about ten more times, but then he finally headed for the door. Tim was about to sigh in relief when Ben turned around.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be all right? When do your parents get back?”

  “In about two weeks. They’re in Switzerland.” Tim worked on wrapping a cloth bandage around his shin. He made sure not to look up again until he heard the front door close. Then he leaned back on the couch and sighed.

  What a weirdo.

  Tim sat there, breathing deeply and forcing himself to remain calm. The pain receded a little, but seemed to have reached its minimum level, which unfortunately still hurt like hell. Last time the doctor gave him pills that not only killed the pain but made him feel drunk. Some of those would be good about now.

  Tim sat upright. The movers had packed absolutely everything. Maybe that included old prescriptions. Unless things had changed, his mother kept those in a kitchen cabinet. Tim considered several ways he could get there. Finally he sat on the floor and used his three good limbs to move himself backward. That way his leg could drag along the floor without getting hurt. In theory. His ankle still bumped against things and made him suffer for it, but Tim got to the kitchen, pulled himself up on one of the counters, and opened cabinet after cabinet.

  His reward was a vintage bottle of pills from 1993. After grabbing a Coke from the fridge, he doubled the recommended dose, chugged them down with half the soda, and started back to the couch. It was that or lay on the kitchen floor. When he made it to the living room, he noticed the clock. He had spent half an hour doing what would normally take a minute. Those pills better work miracles, or
he was royally screwed.

  In a way, they sort of did. Soon Tim was feeling pretty damn good. His body thrummed with pleasure, even though the pain was still there below the surface. Trying to stand brought the pain back with a vengeance and had him shrieking until he sat down again. Then the opiate haze resumed, soothing him, but he clearly needed help. Tim lay on the couch, wondering what to do and zoning out occasionally until the doorbell rang.

  Help had come! He heard the front door open before someone said, “Hello?”

  Crap. It sounded like Ben. Then again, help was help. “Hey,” he shouted. “Come in!”

  Sure enough, Ben came in the room, still looking guilt-ridden. “Good that you’re here,” Tim said, hoping to bolster his spirits. He needed action, not more apologies “The ankle might be worse than I thought.”

  “Yeah.” Ben held up a thick tome with a diagram of human anatomy on the cover. “I think you have a third-degree sprain. Either that or it’s broken. You really need to get to a hospital.”

  Tim didn’t need a book to tell him that. He kept a straight face and said as solemnly as possible, “Probably should.”

  “Er, I know this is a really stupid question, but are you all right?”

  “Yeah. After you left I dragged my ass into the kitchen and remembered some pills from last time. They’ve got me feeling…” Floaty? Cosmic? Rainbow flowery? “Oh man,” he said instead.

  “I’ll call an ambulance.”

  “No, fuck that. I’m not dying or anything. We’ll take my car. You can drive, right?”

  “Um… Yes?”

  “Well, get me up and we’ll be on our way.”

  Setting aside the book and approaching the couch, Ben wrapped an arm around his back. He was still warm from being outside, and his touch felt good on Tim’s cold skin. Lying on the couch for so long in his jogging clothes probably hadn’t been the best idea, but soon they were standing outside in the heat.

  “Actually,” Tim said when he saw his beloved car, “just get me seated and I’ll drive.”

  “With one foot?”

  “Yes,” Tim said slowly. “That’s usually how it’s done.”