SOMEONE FOLLOWED ME on the way home from the tryout. I wasn't sure at first, though. It wasn't until I got to the parking lot of the gay bar that I was certain.
I'd passed by this strip mall about a hundred times since I'd found a message scrawled on the side of a stall at the Exxon down the street, that this was where men came to meet men and do whatever happens next. I still hadn't worked up the courage to set foot inside. So far the most I could do was come to the parking lot and watch to see who went in and who came out. There was this one spot on a generator out by the Dumpster where I'd pull myself up to sit and watch. Since the light above the generator was burned out, people rarely noticed me up there.
I knew I probably wouldn't meet my soul mate in the parking lot, or even inside the bar, for that matter. But I felt a glimmer of hope—maybe tonight would be different. Things had been going well, and I wanted to celebrate. If the League wanted me, maybe someone else would, too. Why not reward myself with a little people watching, at least? What harm could it do? Besides, it wasn't like I was going to go inside or anything. Just the thought of going in was enough to make my insides drop into my bowels. I hoisted myself up on my usual spot on the generator, wiped the grime off my palms, and wished I'd brought some gum or water, because I already had cotton mouth.
I watched a bat flutter in and out of the glow of a street¬light until I finally grew a pair of balls and decided to go in. My boots landed in the gravel with a loud crunch. I put one foot in front of the other and fixed my eyes on the front door of the bar. Abruptly, without a sign of who threw it, a rock landed near my feet.
Someone was following me. I froze in the light of the streetlamp and listened. I could hear the wings of the bat flap¬ping above me, but nothing else. I crouched down and ducked between two SUVs and waited. A shadow moved by the generator.
I could either make a break for the front door of the bar or I could crawl around the labyrinth of parked cars until I reached the entrance to the parking lot and run like hell for home. I looked at my watch. My dad would be
expecting me back from my game soon. My tongue felt numb and my teeth began to chatter. There was no way I could go inside; I'd be trapped.
Then I heard footsteps in the gravel, and the crunching sound grew louder as they approached. I rolled under one of the SUVs, popped up on the other side, and made a fast break for another row of cars closer to the parking lot entrance. The footsteps stopped.
I looked over at the entrance. I could make it with one more sprint through the last row of cars. I started running full speed. My hand latched on to the side of a Subaru. I spun around the last car, slipped on the gravel, and skidded before landing in a cloud of dust. I coughed and peered through the dust behind me into the darkness. I couldn't see anything for a second, but when the dust cleared I thought I saw the fluid contours of fabric, a cape maybe, flowing in the distance. Maybe my head was playing tricks on me for doing something I knew I shouldn't be doing. This was clearly not my scene; I was here out of desperation. Didn't I have standards? Didn't I want more than this? Suddenly the thought of someone finding me here turned my stomach. What would Uberman think? I sprinted as fast as I could out of the parking lot, past the neon Purple Cactus sign, and when I was too exhausted to run anymore, I stuck close to the bushes and jogged with my head turned over my shoulder, suspicious of any shadows the rest of the way home.
I yanked off my tie and toweled off my face with it as I walked up the driveway. Who was following me?
I bet it was that rat fink Golden Boy. Probably volunteered to do the League's routine security check. I can hear him now: I don't think we should just run his Social Security number, not this one, Trust me, I have a feeling. I thought about my fist connecting with his jaw, and the anger felt good. For a second. Then I felt ashamed about enjoying the thought of a fight. Anger was just a momentary cover-up, an emotion that masked your true fears. What really scared me is that maybe it was Dad who was following me. I was hiding more and more things from him every day.
"Good," I said. I followed his voice out back to the deck. "We won."
Dad flipped a burger on the grill and pressed down on it with the spatula. The grease dripped on the charcoal below and sizzled.
"How'd you do, kiddo?"
I hoisted myself up on the wood railing of the deck and sat. "Fine." I watched my legs dangle beneath me. "Scored fifteen points."
"Hm." Dad moved a burger over to the middle of the coals. "How'd you do on D?" "Twelve rebounds." This was becoming an interrogation.
Dad looked up from the burgers and studied my face. "Nice jacket," he said.
Shit. I'd forgotten to change clothes. "Sorry, Dad. Can I borrow it?" "Sure, all you have to do is ask."
He flipped another burger on the grill. "You look awfully hot. You didn't shower?"
Was he testing me? The man could always tell when I wasn't telling the truth. But if he was the one who'd
followed me to the parking lot, how could he have gotten back here in time to have the charcoal going like that? Dad's fast, sure, but that fast? He didn't have superpowers, like me. There was supposed to be a limit to what he could accomplish. But he was so stealthy. ...
"Why don't you go get us a cold beer."
Oh, God, he said us. He definitely wanted to talk. This was it, he knew everything.
How could I have been so stupid? I was so distracted about the League tryouts that I'd totally forgotten about the broken laptop. He probably took it to a shop and had some computer guy behind the counter fire it back up, only to see a naked shot of Uberman and his giant man-breasts fill the screen.
"No thanks." I swallowed and felt my Adam's apple run up against the collar of my wet suit. "I'm not thirsty." "Okay, then." He flipped a burger into the air. "You can get me a new one." Dad crumpled his empty beer can in his good hand.
I walked into the kitchen and thought about walking straight out the door and making a break for it. Instead I found myself walking to the fridge and opening the door, like I was a robot Dad had built in his garage workshop and programmed to get him beer. The cool air of the refrigerator felt good against my hot face. I grabbed a beer sitting out alone on the shelf as if he'd left that one intentionally for me.
I closed the door and paused. Something was odd. I opened the door again and looked inside and saw that the beer had been sitting on top of a laptop computer. A brand-new laptop computer.
"Dad, someone left a laptop in the fridge."
I tossed him his beer across the deck. He stuck out his good hand and caught it without looking up from the grill.
"How about that." Dad grinned and turned to me. "I got a big promotion, Thom. They made me a foreman." He tapped the beer against his leg, excited about his news. "And they gave me a sizable raise."
"That's great! Congratulations! You didn't have to get us a new computer, you know, we could have managed with only one."
"I didn't get us a new computer. I got you a new computer." Dad tossed the beer back at me, and I snatched it out of the air. "You'll be going off to school soon. Certain things a young man needs these days to get ahead." Dad took the burgers off the grill and set them on the platter. "And I intend to give you all of them. Things are finally looking up." He inhaled deeply and savored the crisp edges of the burgers.
"What about the old laptop?" I asked. "I'll pick it up from the shop tomorrow."
"I'll get it," I was quick to offer, maybe too quick.
"With what?" Dad made a skeptical grimace. He was the breadwinner. "I got a new job."
"Another one?"
"I mean, I just picked up a few extra shifts at the cafeteria. Let me pay for it. Please?"
Would he pick up on this? It was only a half-lie. With my League probationary stipend, I did have enough money to get the laptop out of the shop. And I really did want to take care of it—even if there wasn't anything to cover up—to thank Dad for getting me a new computer I didn't deserve.
"Okay," he said. "You can get it." He smiled, pleased at the responsible, grateful son he thought he was raising. I couldn't believe it. All his dreams about me and my bright future were still on. He didn't know a thing. Now I felt worse than ever about lying to him. If I made the League, I wouldn't exactly be packing up my laptop and extra socks and underwear to move to the state university next fall. The League's state-of-the-art technology would make a laptop about as relevant as Pac-Man. Still, I was thrilled for him about the pro¬motion. I believed everything could work out somehow.
"You okay, Thorn?"
He looked at me, his eyebrows raised, a little sad, a little con¬cerned. His sincerity made my stomach rumble with guilt. You can always tell when someone asks how you're doing if they really give a shit, if they really want to know. "You seem like you've got a lot on your mind lately. Now I'll have to work some crazy hours while I'm
getting used to the new responsibilities, but if you ever want to talk, just say the word and I'm here, okay?" I pressed the beer to my forehead and felt the cool conden¬sation on the can drip down my eyebrows. "Okay."
He grabbed the platter and grilling utensils and headed for the back door. With his hands full he said, "Hey, pop open that beer for me, would you?"
I wanted to take the platter out of his hands and ask him to sit down because there was so much I needed to talk to him about. I considered telling him everything, but I couldn't make any sound come out of my mouth. Suddenly I didn't even know how to begin a sentence.
I grabbed the aluminum tab and flipped it open. The beef exploded and sprayed fizz and foam all over my face. Dad smiled and opened the back door with his foot.