Chapter Eight: Jace

Maxxie's lips still lingered on mine as I walked into the school on Monday. Friday night had been one of the best of my life. I had gotten to know Maxxie so well and I shared things with him that I had never shared with anybody before, not even my best friends. Being around him, I didn't have to be careful with what I said. I could be myself without feeling the need to be cautious with my words so they wouldn't backfire at me.

As I headed to my locker in the morning, as I always do, I noticed something strange about the atmosphere. My friends, or at least the people that hung around with me, were all crowded around my locker looking uncomfortable. I noticed that John was absent from the little crowd, but that didn't surprise me. He was still furious at me for being gay. But I didn't need him. I was proud of what I was, even though I didn't have the guts to tell my parents yet.

I approached my locker, ready for what was going to come. Some people glanced at me before stepping aside. I narrowed my eyes and took a step towards my locker. There was a note taped to the outside of the metal door and was written in rainbow ink. It said OPEN UP!

I quickly and cautiously spun my combo into my locker. When my locker swung open, I gasped. A wave of dildos and condoms came flooding to the floor, landing at my feet. Girls surrounding shrieked and ran while guys made uncomfortable faces and horrified faces. I couldn't help but look down in red hot anger. Only one name came into mind: John.

I heard a chuckle behind me. I quickly spin around to see John standing there, two skanky looking girls flanking him. He smirked and raised an eyebrow proudly. He cocked his head to one side and took a deep breath in. I watched as he bent down to pick up a rainbow coloured artificial... you know what. He waved it around a bit, laughing as he did so.

"You like these, don't you?" he asked. He threw the thing at me and it bounced off of my chest before landing back onto the floor.

I glared at him. "John, what hell?"

He sighed and shook his head. He stared at me and shook his head. "You were the perfect guy, Jace," he sighed. "Popular, good looking, athletic, musical. All the ladies were drooling over you. I looked up to you, as did many people."

I clenched my fists. "I'm still the same person, John. I haven't changed at all."

He shook his head and raised a finger. "No, see, you have changed."

"How?"

"You have changed because instead of spending Friday nights partying with your friends or making out with girls, you spend them making out with guys."

I raised an eyebrow but he just took a picture out of his pocket. He unfolded it, stared at it in disgust, and then threw it at my feet. I bent down to pick it up with shaking fingers. I stared at the picture in shock. It was a picture of Maxxie and me from Friday night, me on top of him. We were kissing, our lips fitting perfectly together. My head began to spin; I had made sure that nobody was at the park. I hadn't seen anybody exit or enter the park, either. How could John have a picture?

"Did you take this?" I asked through trembling lips.

John grinned. "You're shaking, boy. And yeah, I did take it. You should be more careful as to where you have your little dates, you know."

I looked at the picture again. It was shaking just as my hands were. How could John, my best friend, do this to me? I had been there for him whenever he needed me. I was the one who had given him dating advice and helped him through his parents' divorce. We had been like brothers. Now he was turning against me, all because of who I loved.

Tears were blurring my vision. A stray tear landed on the photo. I could hear John's laughter bellow ten times louder than it actually was.

"He's crying now!" John cackled. "Oh God, this is good!"

I bit my lip and shook my head. I slipped the picture in my back pocket and shut my locker door. I took a deep breath and walked out of the school. I was skipping today and I didn't care what the hell the consequences were.

As September was coming to a close, the air was getting colder. I zipped my jacket tighter and kept walking. Kids were still only just walking into the school as I headed in the opposite direction. They all smiled or waved at me but I kept walking. I had to get as far away as possible from the school and John. I didn't even want to know what the teachers would say when they found that mess of fake dicks.

I felt sick to my stomach. My brain was throbbing in my skull. I felt like punching something, or preferably, someone. My feet went as fast as my heart did, slapping the pavement. But I kept walking, letting my mind let go of my body.

After a half hour of walking and whilst tears were streaming down my face, I found myself feeling tired and frustrated. I finally stopped to catch my breath, resting my shaking palms on my knees. As I took deep breaths in, I looked up. I found myself staring at a church, Pastor Mark's church. For some reason, I walked into the church. Maybe I'd thought that somehow Primrose might be in there, or maybe I really did want the Grace of the Lord to wash over me. Anyhow, I pushed the large doors open and stepped into the dim church.

The church was dark, with the exception of the sun seeping through the colourful stained glass windows. I could see dust circulating through the light and dancing across the vacant pews. As I walked down the gray carpeted aisle, my footsteps echoed off the marble altar.

I took a seat in the first pew and set my bag beside me. I kneeled on the little kneeling bench and clasped my hands together. I stared at the statue of Jesus on the cross hanging off the walls just above the altar. Why was I here? What did I want to pray about? Did I even want to pray?

As I continued to stare at Jesus' image, I felt another tear fall down my cheek. That tear was followed by another and another, and soon an entire sea of tears were trickling down my face. I stopped kneeling and sat on the wooden pew, my face in my hands. I sat there and sobbed, thinking that I shouldn't have even been in the church. I didn't belong there. God didn't want gays in his world. Lev. 20:13, "If there is a man who lies with a male as those who lie with a woman, both of them have committed a detestable act; they shall surely be put to death. Their bloodguiltness is upon them." I was surprised that a giant hand of God didn't come down and zap me right then.

As I continued to cry, I felt somebody pat my back. I looked up and saw Primrose sitting beside me. Her face was morphed into a frown. She shook her head at me, confused and sad.

"What's wrong?" she whispered. "Why are you crying?"

"Why aren't you at school?" I sniffled.

"I skipped," she admitted. "I'm guessing you did too. What's wrong?"

I told her everything that had happened, right from the very beginning when I came out to the school. She listened carefully as I spoke to her, tripping over my own bloody words.

"I don't even belong in this church," I murmured. "God doesn't love me."

"Hey," she said softly, "you belong here just as much as I do. God loves you, Jace. You're a good person with a good heart. It doesn't matter if you love a man or woman. We are all God's children."

"But the Bible says—"

"It doesn't matter what the Bible says," she scolded. By this time tears were in her eyes. She took my hand in hers. "Do you believe that God loves you? Do you believe that God loves everyone? Because I do. So I believe that it doesn't matter what the Bible says, because I know that God loves me for me. And he loves you too, Jace!"

I thought about her words. Did I really believe that God loved me, despite what the Bible said? Did I even believe in such God?

Just then, I heard footsteps coming from the back room. My heart went cold and Primrose's grip on my hand tightened. We watched the doorway and waited. Her father soon walked into the church and glanced at us. His salt and pepper brows furrowed.

"Primrose? Jace? Is that you? What are you doing here?" he demanded.

I swallowed and though of an answer. I finally said, "My teachers excused me from class so I could come and pray for the rest of the day." I knew that my answer was stupid, but it was all I could come up with.

Pastor Mark nodded and looked at his daughter. Primrose smiled sweetly and said, "The same happened with me. I just went home to get changed out of my uniform then I came straight over here."

He nodded again. He glanced at us and noticed that Primrose and I were holding hands. His face lit up and he smiled. He stood in front of our pew and kneeled down before us. He looked us both in the eyes with an abnormal happiness.

"Jace, your parents and I have discussed this for a very long time now," he began.

Primrose and I exchanged worried glances.

"We have come to the conclusion that, well, you and my daughter spend an awful lot of time together. You two are the same age and you have grown up together." He took a deep breath. "Well, we are aware that this is America and that we don't usually do this, but, we have decided for you two to be in an arranged marriage."

>>><<< 

I arrived home at noon knowing my parents would both be home for their lunch break. My heart was pulsing in my ears. My muscles ached from the long walk but anger was pushing me forward. I stormed through the front door, slamming it shut. My mother, looking confused, walked out of the kitchen and into the foyer. Her brows furrowed.

"Jace, what are you doing home?" she asked.

"Really?" I hissed through gritted teeth. "An arranged marriage?"

Her face went pale. My father then entered the foyer to see what the commotion was about. He folded his arms across his chest and clenched his jaw.

"What on Earth are you doing home?" he demanded. "You're supposed to be at school!"

I dropped my backpack onto the ground and stormed into the living room, knowing that my parents would follow. We stood there in silence for a bit. My mother chewed her nails while my father had his hands on his hips angrily. I clenched my jaw as I stared at both of them.

"An arranged marriage, eh?" I hissed. "You arranged for Primrose and I to be married?"

My father narrowed his eyes. "How did you know that? You weren't supposed to know that."

"Pastor Mark told me earlier," I explained. "I went to the church."

"Sweetheart," my mother said softly, "Primrose is a nice girl. She comes from a stable family with a good heart. She'd be the perfect girl."

My fists clenched. "But I don't like Primrose."

"Of course you like Primrose!" my father bellowed. "You two talk all the time! You're best friends."

I rolled my eyes. "I mean I don't like her like her. She's just my friend."

"Well," my father said, "as you grow up you'll grow to love her as more than a friend."

I exhaled sharply.

"No, Dad, I won't," I said.

He rolled his eyes. "You're just shocked right now. But don't worry, you'll love Primrose in time. Now let me get back to my lunch, dammit!"

I watched as he turned around and began to walk out of the room. I clenched my fists. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't keep anything bottled inside anymore. I had to tell them.

"I WILL NEVER LOVE PRIMROSE BECAUSE I AM GAY!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. The sound echoed off the walls.

My mother's mouth formed a perfect 'O'. My father turned on his heels and stared me carefully in the eye. Anger flashed across his face. He then walked over to me and raised his hand. He swung his arm and I was thrown onto the couch. I clutched my cheek as the pain rose. My mother wailed.

"There's no way in hell that you like men!" my father shouted. "What's wrong with you?"

I whimpered. My dad smacked me again. My mother screamed. My dad shook his head.

"You're no longer welcome in this house," he hissed. "Leave. Now!"

He hoisted me up and guided me through the house. I could hear my mother crying softly. We got to the front door and my dad opened it. He shoved me outside and shook his head.

"You're not my son," he whispered.

He shut the door on my face.