LJ Idol Exhibit A: Week 2 - Throw Back the Little Ones
“Since when do you even care about going to prom, anyway?” I ask my friend Jeremiah as I try to determine if my slice of cafeteria meatloaf is safe to eat.
He narrows his eyes like I’m missing the obvious. “Simon, do you know what chicks do after prom?”
I shake my head and prod the meatloaf. It quivers. “I have no idea. I'm not a chick, and I’ve never been to prom.”
Jeremiah stabs the air with his fork. “After. Prom. Sex. Girls get trashed and screw their dates, duh. Last big chance to do it, you know?”
“If you need a prom to get a girl to sleep with you, perhaps you should reconsider how much sexual appeal you actually have,” I mutter before taking a bite of my meatloaf.
Sometimes I wonder why I’m even friends with Jeremiah. He’s always talking about sleeping with girls like it’s the most important thing in the world, yet he’s never so much as made an actual move on one. It doesn’t make sense, not that I’m one to talk. I’ve never had a girlfriend, but at least I’m not always talking about how much I want one.
Jeremiah glares at me. “I have plenty of sexual appeal, thank you very much.”
“And not everybody gets trashed at prom. I certainly don’t plan to,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Whatever,” he mutters. Then his face lights up. “So, which chick are you taking?”
I stare at my meatloaf. My friend points to a blonde girl whose name I don’t know. “What about her?” he says. “She’s one of the hottest girls in school, right?”
“How am I supposed to know? It’s not like I’m an expert in determining girls’ hotness.” The girl Jeremiah so enthusiastically points out looks like any other.
He gestures to another girl. Jeremiah bounces in his seat like a kid at a carnival or something. I shake my head. It doesn’t seem worth it to take some girl I don’t know to prom.
I shake my head. My friend’s eyes widen. “No?” he says. He points to yet another girl, and I shake my head again. This exercise is stupid.
After Jeremiah suggests three more girls and I reject them, he rests his head in his hands. “What am I going to do with you, man?” he sighs. “You keep tossing my ideas back at me. I’m trying to help here. We can’t sit at the same table unless you’ve got a date. It's an even number of seats, and the rest of our friends are all coupled up.”
I'm shaking my head when the looming figure of Mason Kramer appears next to our booth. Ugh, I do not want to deal with him. “The cafeteria is a bit of an odd place for a date, isn’t it?” he drawls.
Jeremiah glares at him. “Very funny, Mason,” he mutters. I notice my friend is kind of blushing; our intruder really is a jerk.
Mason leans back and puts his hands behind his head. “So who are you guys taking to prom?” he wonders. His eyes flash. I get the sense if we don’t answer right, he’ll give us crap.
“Why don’t you leave?” I hiss.
He raises an eyebrow. “I’m just trying to have a friendly conversation.”
“You have an odd idea of ‘friendly conversation,’” Jeremiah grumbles, still glaring.
“You’re awfully sensitive considering I was just joking about you having a date,” Mason murmurs. He looks almost contemplative. “It’s not like I actually think you’re a couple of fags.”
I want to punch Mason right now. It’s just his usual crap, but I’m shaking in my seat. I grab the edges of the table hard enough my knuckles turn white.
“Do not. Use. That. Word.” Jeremiah stands up. He leans over Mason’s chair, grabbing the back of it. He’s tall; while Mason may be bigger, my friend looks damn scary. “Take it back,” Jeremiah demands.
Mason smirks at him. “Why? Because it’s true?”
“Yes.”
“You might want to reconsider your answer. After all, what if the whole school finds out?” Mason stays relaxed.
“Then so be it,” Jeremiah says.
I feel like my brain might explode. Mason gets up, and Jeremiah lets the chair go, though he doesn’t back away. Waving to us, Mason says, “I need to say hi to Claire. You know her, right? Bit of a gossip, isn’t she? See you guys later.”
He leaves. Jeremiah’s eyes go huge. “What -- what did I just do?” he breathes.
I take a deep breath. “I assume that was a rhetorical question.”
Jeremiah nods, still looking stunned. I glance around the cafeteria, as if it will magically hold the answers for what the hell I’m supposed to do now. Already, people are looking around at us and whispering. That was fast. In fact, I’m pretty sure that shouldn’t be possible given known laws of physics. My stomach twists, and my heart pounds in my chest. I feel like I might puke up the tiny bit of meatloaf I managed to eat.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say. I stand up and grab my tray with the unfinished meatloaf on it. I’m not so hungry anymore.
He grabs his tray, too. After we place them in the used tray area, we head out in silence. At least nobody out in the halls is staring at us yet. There aren’t very many people, as it’s the middle of the period. I lean against a locker. My heart hammers even harder, and I can feel my whole body tense up.
“Simon, everyone’s gonna know,” Jeremiah mutters, leaning against the lockers as well.
I avoid his eyes, but I’ve gotta say something. “So? The ones who’ll care were douches anyway.”
“Do you?” Jeremiah asks softly.
“Do I what?” I wonder, raising an eyebrow. “Care, you mean?” He nods. I say, “Why would I care? We’re still friends, right? And it’s not like I don’t get it.”
He shakes his head. “You -- can’t get it.”
“Actually, I can. You’re -- not alone, Jeremiah.”
He looks up at me, his eyes even huger than before. “You too?”
“Yeah, I’m gay, too. For once in his life, Mason was actually right about something. How about that, huh?” I say.
Jeremiah gives a small, nervous chuckle. “Never thought I would see the day that happened,” he mutters.
“So --” My mouth suddenly feels parched, and I'm not sure if the words will come out right. “Do you wanna go to prom with me?”
He narrows his eyes like I’m missing the obvious. “Simon, do you know what chicks do after prom?”
I shake my head and prod the meatloaf. It quivers. “I have no idea. I'm not a chick, and I’ve never been to prom.”
Jeremiah stabs the air with his fork. “After. Prom. Sex. Girls get trashed and screw their dates, duh. Last big chance to do it, you know?”
“If you need a prom to get a girl to sleep with you, perhaps you should reconsider how much sexual appeal you actually have,” I mutter before taking a bite of my meatloaf.
Sometimes I wonder why I’m even friends with Jeremiah. He’s always talking about sleeping with girls like it’s the most important thing in the world, yet he’s never so much as made an actual move on one. It doesn’t make sense, not that I’m one to talk. I’ve never had a girlfriend, but at least I’m not always talking about how much I want one.
Jeremiah glares at me. “I have plenty of sexual appeal, thank you very much.”
“And not everybody gets trashed at prom. I certainly don’t plan to,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Whatever,” he mutters. Then his face lights up. “So, which chick are you taking?”
I stare at my meatloaf. My friend points to a blonde girl whose name I don’t know. “What about her?” he says. “She’s one of the hottest girls in school, right?”
“How am I supposed to know? It’s not like I’m an expert in determining girls’ hotness.” The girl Jeremiah so enthusiastically points out looks like any other.
He gestures to another girl. Jeremiah bounces in his seat like a kid at a carnival or something. I shake my head. It doesn’t seem worth it to take some girl I don’t know to prom.
I shake my head. My friend’s eyes widen. “No?” he says. He points to yet another girl, and I shake my head again. This exercise is stupid.
After Jeremiah suggests three more girls and I reject them, he rests his head in his hands. “What am I going to do with you, man?” he sighs. “You keep tossing my ideas back at me. I’m trying to help here. We can’t sit at the same table unless you’ve got a date. It's an even number of seats, and the rest of our friends are all coupled up.”
I'm shaking my head when the looming figure of Mason Kramer appears next to our booth. Ugh, I do not want to deal with him. “The cafeteria is a bit of an odd place for a date, isn’t it?” he drawls.
Jeremiah glares at him. “Very funny, Mason,” he mutters. I notice my friend is kind of blushing; our intruder really is a jerk.
Mason leans back and puts his hands behind his head. “So who are you guys taking to prom?” he wonders. His eyes flash. I get the sense if we don’t answer right, he’ll give us crap.
“Why don’t you leave?” I hiss.
He raises an eyebrow. “I’m just trying to have a friendly conversation.”
“You have an odd idea of ‘friendly conversation,’” Jeremiah grumbles, still glaring.
“You’re awfully sensitive considering I was just joking about you having a date,” Mason murmurs. He looks almost contemplative. “It’s not like I actually think you’re a couple of fags.”
I want to punch Mason right now. It’s just his usual crap, but I’m shaking in my seat. I grab the edges of the table hard enough my knuckles turn white.
“Do not. Use. That. Word.” Jeremiah stands up. He leans over Mason’s chair, grabbing the back of it. He’s tall; while Mason may be bigger, my friend looks damn scary. “Take it back,” Jeremiah demands.
Mason smirks at him. “Why? Because it’s true?”
“Yes.”
“You might want to reconsider your answer. After all, what if the whole school finds out?” Mason stays relaxed.
“Then so be it,” Jeremiah says.
I feel like my brain might explode. Mason gets up, and Jeremiah lets the chair go, though he doesn’t back away. Waving to us, Mason says, “I need to say hi to Claire. You know her, right? Bit of a gossip, isn’t she? See you guys later.”
He leaves. Jeremiah’s eyes go huge. “What -- what did I just do?” he breathes.
I take a deep breath. “I assume that was a rhetorical question.”
Jeremiah nods, still looking stunned. I glance around the cafeteria, as if it will magically hold the answers for what the hell I’m supposed to do now. Already, people are looking around at us and whispering. That was fast. In fact, I’m pretty sure that shouldn’t be possible given known laws of physics. My stomach twists, and my heart pounds in my chest. I feel like I might puke up the tiny bit of meatloaf I managed to eat.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say. I stand up and grab my tray with the unfinished meatloaf on it. I’m not so hungry anymore.
He grabs his tray, too. After we place them in the used tray area, we head out in silence. At least nobody out in the halls is staring at us yet. There aren’t very many people, as it’s the middle of the period. I lean against a locker. My heart hammers even harder, and I can feel my whole body tense up.
“Simon, everyone’s gonna know,” Jeremiah mutters, leaning against the lockers as well.
I avoid his eyes, but I’ve gotta say something. “So? The ones who’ll care were douches anyway.”
“Do you?” Jeremiah asks softly.
“Do I what?” I wonder, raising an eyebrow. “Care, you mean?” He nods. I say, “Why would I care? We’re still friends, right? And it’s not like I don’t get it.”
He shakes his head. “You -- can’t get it.”
“Actually, I can. You’re -- not alone, Jeremiah.”
He looks up at me, his eyes even huger than before. “You too?”
“Yeah, I’m gay, too. For once in his life, Mason was actually right about something. How about that, huh?” I say.
Jeremiah gives a small, nervous chuckle. “Never thought I would see the day that happened,” he mutters.
“So --” My mouth suddenly feels parched, and I'm not sure if the words will come out right. “Do you wanna go to prom with me?”