Adam - A Novella

15

"Avalin." I approached the blonde girl quickly after school. Her mascara accenting her eyes and black choker were the only coloring I could see as the glare from the sun blinded me from any light colors. She whirled around and quickly separated from her friends, excusing herself from them. "I think you know why I told you I wanted to talk to you." We stopped under the shade, and I could see her waterline irritating with tears tickling at her skin.

"I heard about you. Are you actually?" I nodded, and she slinked back. I'm sure she wasn't too upset, but I doubt she'd be thrilled to hear her two-year boyfriend was gay.

"I'm sorry." I apologized before she could start saying anything. Old habits die hard. I stared, oops, at her face orientating itself in every direction possible before facing me.

"I didn't expect this from you." She wiped her tears at an odd angle to protect her makeup.

"I know, I know. I'm so thankful at how fast you've been adapting to us, and I'm sorry I've dragged you behind me this long."

"Did you ever love me? Or anything?" I had to think before I shook my head no. Cool Adam did, but I know Cool Adam wasn't real. He was a persona made up by the traumatic environment he was exposed to, a protection for Adam. I could have lied to her, but I've lied to her far too long. She deserved the truth.

"I have something else I need to tell you, too. And I need you to promise you won't get mad at him." She looked at me, and thankfully, I could assess safety in her gaze. "I was... I hooked up with your brother."

She looked flabbergasted for a moment before whispering. "Oliver?" I almost chortled.

"Arthur."

"Oh. Oh." She seemed to have been stabbed, slightly bending over her stomach with her hand to her heart. "I didn't know he..."

"I didn't know either. Please don't out him to your family. Please." It was risky begging, being vulnerable to someone I'd broken the heart of, but I wanted to make sure I didn't ruin his life too. She nodded shortly, and for a second, I didn't know if I could trust her.

"I am talking to him about it. But I'm not going to expose him. I promise." I felt slight embarrassment knowing the conversation that would arise, but I'm glad she was selfless. For once. Although, I wouldn't be surprised if she had her own selfish intentions behind it. But as long as he was safe and okay, I would be, too.

"I'm sorry again. It's been a pleasure being your boyfriend." I said as formally as I could, but her eyes seemed to stare through me like a picture. She murmured gently before tears rolled down her cheeks again, and she pushed past me to a bathroom behind us.

It had to be done.

Hiding the breakup from Augustus would be the hardest part of all, seeing how he asks inappropriate and intimate questions every night at dinner about her.

"You can get pretty close, as long as it's not really sex." He muttered over his spaghetti. My face felt melty with awkwardness. "there's a very strict definition..." I glanced at Mavia, who looked around both confused and deeply sheepish. My mother shot me a couple knowing glances, and although I couldn't really tell what she was trying to relay, I appreciated the sympathy. My hands shook, rattling my fork against the side of my plate, and I stared at the meatball placed delicately on top of my untouched pile of noodles and tomato paste.

I wanted to tell him so badly, but I knew how at-risk it would put me. It would have to remain my secret. "How's that friend of yours? Thomas?" I looked up at him, sending me a daring look over his wine glass.

"We don't really talk anymore." I muttered, and the clash of my father's utensils slamming against his glassware panged my ears. "So, who's the friend you keep going to see almost every day?" My mind tried wandering to the ruffle-haired boy with the tiny ball on a pole in his nose, the boy with shoulders for days and thin, pale lips which are so attractive when pulled into a teethy grin. The boy with the peach-fuzz jaw and ski-jump nose which seemed to always aim toward the sky as he'd cloud gaze thoughtlessly.

"Caleb." I replied, in an airier tone than I wanted. Augustus's jaw loosened in disbelief, and his eyebrows arching made me snap back to the dinner table.

"The pansy kid?" If I had the reputation here to shoot him daggers, I would have. But I was fighting for my life every night, so I could only stare at the roses as a centerpiece, which had replaced the lilies.

"Yes." Almost didn't make it out of my vocal cords before he tossed his glass, which he had been sipping on, behind him, causing a pile of red wine to stain the cream carpet. My mom looked at it with both fear and disdain, likely thinking of how hard it'll be to clean that.

"Didn't I tell you not to go messing with people like that?"

"I've known him sense I was in preschool, remember? We just like to catch up a bit. He doesn't mention... any of that stuff." My words were strong, but my confidence was gone, and I could only see through squinted eyes as he stood up and rushed toward me with a steak knife in hand. He waved it around threateningly, and I couldn't tell if he was actually willing to stab me. He was clearly fucked up enough to, seeing him bob around on his own two legs like a fishing floater.

"You spend a lot of time together for 'just catching up'." He poked me with the tip of the knife, getting tomato sauce from the overcooked meatball he was cutting on my white shirt, which I resisted brushing off right now. I shrugged, and he tossed the knife over my shoulder lightly. "Kids these days. Back in my day, if anyone I knew had been like that, me and my gang would kill them in the back of the school and call it a suicide." He chuckled as he sat down as if he wasn't admitting to conspiracy to murder. I shifted uncomfortably, and Mavia, who was waiting to ask to be excused, looked at me confused.

"What's pansy mean?" She asked, and before I could answer, my father grabbed his plate and smashed it to the ground.

"No more of this shit." He growled, and Mavia nodded at the same quick rate as me. "Both of you, go to your rooms. I don't want to see your faces for the rest of the night." We rushed to our room, and I made sure to grab all the toys from the couch for her to play with, so she doesn't have to be hurt for being seen outside again. I closed the rickety door behind us and could hear my mother rushing to his emotional aid as he began to smash more glass on the ground like a toddler. Mavia quickly got ready for bed in front of me, only needing to go brush her teeth for her bedtime, pulling some barbies out of our closet quietly and beginning to tap their feet on the floor, bringing them to life.

If only the adults in my life were as mature as my seven-year-old sister.