Between These Walls Page 11

  Hunter wasn’t in a relationship at that point. He had dated a girl earlier in the summer, a fling which had dissolved after a few weeks. By the end of summer, his friends itched to hook him up with someone, but Hunter had resisted their pressure. As a result, by the time the school year started, girls considered Hunter one of the more eligible bachelors.

  “I’m freezing out here!” Shelly Gruber ran up and threw her arms around Hunter, her thighs a cold pale under her short cheerleader skirt. She nuzzled against him. He opened his letterman jacket to allow her inside, then closed the jacket around her and held it shut with his arms. Her body brought welcome heat to his own, and he could feel her tiny tremors as her shivering began to subside. She had set her curly, sandy-brown hair in a ponytail and wrapped it in a ribbon of blue and white, the school colors. Hunter and Shelly flirted more often than they held normal conversations.

  Hunter wished the embrace meant something to him, but he decided to play along anyway. Maybe it would cause the other guys to ease up on their remarks about his laxity in the romance department.

  “Of course it feels frigid to you,” Rex’s girlfriend said to Shelly. “The game’s over. Why don’t you wear something over your legs?”

  “I totally forgot them at home.” Shelly bent one leg at the knee and lifted it a few inches to show Hunter. “I’m dying out here! Look, I’ve got freakin’ goosebumps all over my legs, my arms—geez, I can feel them all over my ass! Hunter, I’m gonna need to borrow your pants, too.”

  The group howled with laughter, Hunter included.

  “Yeah, Carlisle,” Rex shouted with a clever grin, “what does it take to get in your pants?”

  Another eruption of laughter, its volume double this time around. Hunter took the joke in stride, wondering if the lights in the parking lot could reveal whether he’d blushed. Rex had no idea how nervous such a comment made Hunter. Self-conscious, Hunter sought a way to deflect attention from himself.

  “You did a great job tonight,” Hunter whispered, holding Shelly’s gaze.

  She tilted her head and considered his comment. Her eyes swept across his face.

  He picked up traces of spearmint on her breath as she leaned in to kiss his cheek.

  Hunter now focused on the basketball net before him as he took a long drink from his water bottle. The church building sat about twenty yards away. The Saturday-morning sky had grown overcast, but he could see the sun’s outline through the veil of clouds. Joe sat beside him on the bench. Grabbing the basketball at Joe’s feet, Hunter twirled it on his fingertip.

  He could smell perspiration on Jesse, who sat on Hunter’s other side and bantered with Joe. Hunter looked over at Joe, whose forehead still had a wet sheen from his exertion during the game. Though he no longer needed to, Hunter wiped his face again with his T-shirt, taking his time. As he did, he turned his head a notch, eased his eyes toward his right, and caught a glimpse of Joe’s arms. Joe must have started working out, Hunter figured, based on the extra tone to his bicep, which flexed slightly as Joe scratched his head. Hunter slid his eyes down to Joe’s legs, which were toned, as well. They, too, shined with perspiration. Unaware of Hunter’s attention, Joe, in an absentminded manner, reached down and brushed the sweat from his legs.

  Regretful, Hunter shut his eyes, gritted his teeth at the knowledge that he had just checked out his friend, though it wasn’t the first time Hunter had done so.

  Ever since middle school, curiosity had challenged Hunter’s friendships and taunted his conscience. Regardless of the innocence with which he began a friendship, Hunter would, for no particular reason, notice a physical characteristic he found attractive about that friend. Once that happened, unknown to the other person, Hunter’s mind introduced another dimension to how he viewed that friend. With time, Hunter’s curiosity got the better of him and he’d find himself wondering about the individual, picturing them in ways he knew he shouldn’t.

  On occasion, a friendship emerged and Hunter would survive several months without thinking such thoughts. He would hope it meant a pure, untainted friendship had materialized in his life. But sure enough, in time, he would take note of a physical characteristic, which would then set his imagination in motion; it had taken longer than usual, that was all. While others took friendships for granted, seeming not to give them a second thought beyond their face values, Hunter grew angry at himself for coupling friendship with an ulterior additive. He wished he could see his friends the unpolluted way they saw him.

  He craved to be normal.

  Sitting beside Joe and the other guys reminded Hunter of how, oftentimes, the activities he enjoyed came paired with a unique challenge. Hunter could endure it, as long as he didn’t allow his mind to wander at the wrong time.

  While growing up, Hunter spent countless hours in locker rooms before and after games and practices. He was used to the environment and the people surrounding him, many of whom had attended school together since kindergarten.

  Those locker rooms always felt cold to him. And their environments—concrete floors and walls, the musty scent of socks, the cacophony of locker doors slamming and water dripping and voices echoing—all seemed to join forces to reduce the temperature a few extra degrees.

  Hunter was a freshman in high school the first time he saw his friend Randy naked. They ran cross-country together. When they discovered they kept comparable paces, they ran side by side during practice to help motivate each other. As a result, they started and ended their runs at the same time.

  Although the school year hadn’t yet begun, practices had started several weeks prior, in early August. While Hunter found northern Ohio summers comfortable due to their lack of extreme heat and humidity, running for miles would cause anyone to sweat. By the time Hunter returned to the school campus at the end of practice, he was drenched. He slowed to a walk for a few minutes, his cool-down period, which eased his perspiration but also brought a cool, gluey quality to his skin. Randy’s blond, wavy hair, now sticky and a shade darker with dampness, had plastered itself to his scalp.

  Hunter and Randy had dodged the seniors and picked lockers beside each other for the season. At the end of their first cross-country practice, they made their way to their lockers in the last row, at the far end of the room, and maneuvered their combination locks. Hunter was exhausted, but Randy had run cross-country in middle school and maintained a trace of invigoration after the long run. Randy released a heavy exhale and sifted through his locker. Hunter needed a minute to recuperate. He took a seat on the bench to give his quivering legs a rest and rubbed the fatigue from his eyes.

  By the time Hunter looked up, Randy was in his boxer shorts and ran his fingers under the waistline before giving the shorts a tug, letting them drop to the floor without a second thought.

  Hunter had been Randy’s friend for as long as he could remember. They had watched afternoon cartoons together as kids. They had built forts in the woods. They had had gym class together in elementary school and middle school, where they had simply changed shirts and shorts before and after. They had participated in many activities together, seen each other in countless contexts. But Hunter had never seen his friend naked.

  Whatever innocence had existed to their friendship vanished in that instant.

  Without warning, their world had changed. Randy didn’t know it, but Hunter did. It caught him off guard. Another secret to bury.

  Randy rummaged through his locker, sorting through items for the first time, unloading from his gym bag a few items he would store in his locker. From where Hunter sat, he could only see his friend from the back. He had considered himself physically comparable to Randy: They weighed about the same. Hunter was a couple of inches taller. Girls found both of them attractive. But now Hunter wondered how far the comparable characteristics went. And in a matter of seconds, he edged closer to a boundary, one from which, once crossed, he could never retreat. Once he saw something, he had seen it. He couldn’t remove it from his mind.

  Yet H
unter found his curiosity piqued.

  Randy, preoccupied with his locker, wouldn’t notice. But Hunter had to be careful. He had to be able to appear normal should Randy turn around unexpectedly. And Hunter needed to look preoccupied, as well, so he bent over at the waist and set a personal record for the slowness with which he untied his shoes. Then, without turning his head, he allowed his line of sight to inch in Randy’s direction. At that point in his life, Hunter believed God existed but didn’t know much about Him; nonetheless, he sent up a prayer that he wouldn’t get caught. The seconds slowed to a crawl.

  Randy’s feet were the same size as Hunter’s, but his toes looked more defined. His legs had a firm tone due to his regular runs. Earlier that summer, Randy’s family had spent a week at the beach, so he’d developed a dark tan. His tan stopped just above his knees, where the length of his swimming trunks had ended, a solid border line between light and dark. Above that line, his skin color turned from summer to winter. His buttocks looked flatter than Hunter’s, almost as though they didn’t quite exist. As Hunter removed his shoes, he swept his eyes higher and noticed a few dark specks on Randy’s back, which Hunter recognized. He had returned to familiar territory.

  But Hunter had one more unanswered question. One quick glance upward to make sure his friend was still preoccupied. Then Hunter leaned forward and reached down, taking his time removing each sock but careful not to take so long that Randy would notice.

  Hunter still couldn’t see. He scooted forward, then leaned farther down, as if he’d simply approached his sock removal from the wrong angle. He glided his eyes toward Randy again and caught sight of what he’d sought. Like Hunter, Randy had entered puberty the year before, a conclusion he’d drawn when Randy’s voice had deepened. His pubic hair was a shade lighter than Hunter’s, which confirmed Hunter’s suspicions, given Randy was a blond. Hunter concentrated on Randy’s torso for a split second, made a mental calculation, and noticed Randy’s penis was slimmer than his own, more vertical and shapeless, and was about a half-inch longer than Hunter’s.

  As soon as Hunter drew his conclusions, Randy whipped a tan towel from his locker and wrapped it around his waist. But Hunter now had a mental picture he knew he could never erase. The awareness of what Hunter had done brought a mix of stimulation and regret. He had satisfied a desire yet felt he had betrayed a friend.

  Hunter felt himself stir beneath his shorts. He swore under his breath and closed his eyes, willed himself to calm, and managed to regain control of functions.

  “Man, you’re so slow,” Randy said. With the towel covering his pale midsection, he looked tan from head to toe. “Practice must’ve worn you out.”

  Hunter looked up at his friend. Randy wore a broad grin, the same grin he displayed whenever he joked around. Hunter detected neither hesitation nor anger in his friend’s eyes.

  Hunter drew a breath of relief.

  Randy hadn’t noticed anything. Hunter was safe.

  “You were right to start running during summer,” Hunter replied. “I’ll be in the routine after a couple of days, though.”

  “You coming?” Randy asked, nodding toward the front of the locker room where the showers were.

  “Yeah, be there in a minute,” Hunter replied.

  With that, Randy disappeared around the corner. Hunter rose to remove the rest of his clothes. The cool air felt awkward against his bare skin, as if he’d entered unnatural territory. They hadn’t showered after sports in middle school, so again, he prayed that, if there was a God, He would protect him from embarrassment in the minutes ahead.

  Approaching from several feet away, Hunter could hear a dozen showers running and knew the room would be crowded. When he entered, he noticed a thin cloud of steam hung in the air, which meant other team members had occupied the room for a while. The humidity caused a sweat to break out along his brow. Students of all grades, from freshmen to seniors, filled the room. Shouts and laughter echoed against the tiles that lined the walls and floors. The room had an open layout. Shower spouts lined its perimeter.

  Not far from the entryway, Hunter found an unoccupied spout beside Randy. Self-conscious after what had happened minutes earlier, the location near the entryway provided Hunter a security blanket, an easy escape in case he needed to make a fast exit. Randy’s proximity might prove convenient in case he needed a quick distraction through idle chatter.

  Hunter tossed his towel aside. The prickly coolness returned to his bare skin. When he turned on the hot and cold water knobs, the water felt ice cold and sent a chill up his spine. A torrent of goosebumps ripped across his flesh. Hunter sucked air and adjusted the knobs to locate a comfortable balance—another reminder he had entered unfamiliar territory. Randy, his blond hair drenched and dark, gave Hunter a nod as if to say, Of course you’re here. Nothing out of the ordinary. Meanwhile, the neighbor to Hunter’s right finished up, turned off the water, and departed, leaving the last spout along the wall unoccupied.

  Howls of laughter erupted from the other side of the room and gave Hunter a jolt. He turned around to locate the source of the noise and found a group of juniors and seniors bantering back and forth. What a difference two or three years makes, Hunter thought. The guys must have worked out in the weight room throughout the year, judging from their sculpted upper bodies. Hunter felt insecure by comparison, then reminded himself that most freshman were as undeveloped as he. Tempted to look further, he gritted his teeth, and turned back to the task at hand, stifling his urge.

  He hated that urge. Why did other guys get to enter environments like this without a second thought, while he had to struggle the whole time? While they joked around, he had to fight to maintain his physical composure. If he didn’t, he knew the circumstances that followed would torment him for the next four years. What if he were to stir right now? If anything embarrassing happened, it would become a leech to his reputation, latching on and drawing rumor content as its lifeblood.

  Even the smaller scale scared him: Assuming he made it through today, he would still face tomorrow … and a week from now … next month … next year. How would he survive? The odds didn’t look good. Hunter groaned within himself at the notion of the constant battle he would face, day after day, for years to come. What was he supposed to do, quit? Sports were his passion, but that meant a price for him to pay—a price which, as far as he knew, nobody else in this room would ever know for themselves, a price they would never need to pay. At age fourteen, he already worried about how his own physical dimensions compared to his peers, those private details others might mention about him during idle chatter. And on top of that, he had to worry every day about whether his groin stirred at the wrong time? It struck him as unfair. Why did he get stuck with this?

  This sucks, he muttered to himself.

  Hunter saw a light shadow creep across the tiled wall at an angle in front of him. Keeping his eyes straight ahead, he focused on a patch of discoloration in the grout along the wall. He sensed the presence of someone else, and sure enough, he heard the water start. Gritting his teeth again, Hunter tensed.

  He shouldn’t look. He knew he shouldn’t. He’d had enough for today.

  Whoever it was, the guy didn’t say anything, so Hunter assumed they had never met. He squinted, focused further on the wall tiles, increased his speed so he could put an end to his suffering for today.

  One more minute. That’s all he needed to do—make it through one more minute, then he could escape into safety and get the hell out of there. Randy had left already.

  The temptation felt electromagnetic, tugging his eyes toward his right. Hunter fought to face forward. But he wondered who stood next to him. Casual, forcing himself to keep his eyes shoulder-level or above, Hunter glanced over and recognized the guy. A sophomore. Hunter was correct, they had never met, but he had seen the guy earlier. Had someone called him Anderson? His last name, probably. Of all people, though—Hunter hadn’t just noticed him when practice started. A good-looking guy, Hunter had wondered
about him. People appeared to like him, but he didn’t carry an air of cliquish popularity. Once, when Anderson looked in his direction during practice, Hunter darted his eyes in another direction, well aware of the weakness he sensed within himself and afraid it might reveal itself in his eyes. Now the guy stood beside him. Droplets of water dotted his tan shoulders. The running water brought a sheen to his back.

  Hunter’s temptation returned. Over and over, a constant cycle, all within seconds.

  Fight, Hunter! Fight it off!

  Determined not to give in, Hunter grunted and turned the water knobs in front of him. The water shut off. He was almost in the clear. He wiped his face with his hands and ran his fingers through his hair twice to shed the excess water.

  Damn it, don’t do it!

  The tug felt so strong. An invisible force of some kind. Hunter knew it wasn’t physical, but it sure felt like it was. Resistance was so difficult.

  Hunter felt himself weaken.

  No! Stop!

  It would be so easy to look. One quick glance. Nobody would know, right? It wouldn’t cause harm to anyone else.

  But no, Hunter was sick of this fight. He didn’t want it in his life, so resist it. Fight it off.

  The water kept running from Anderson’s spout as he lifted his arms. Hunter clenched his jaw. The fight wore him down.

  Oh, fuck it. It’s just one look. Get it over with, then you won’t want to do it again.

  Anderson washed his face, his hands blocking his vision. Hunter turned to walk away but allowed his eyes to linger downward, toward his right, as he turned.

  Another mental picture. Front, back. Hunter filed it away in his mind. Although he hated to admit it, he did like what he saw and, in that instant, felt lucky. He would never need to look again. He had a memory.