Saving Scott

Chapter Three: "In my Christian household?"

The fish were talking to me. Well, maybe it was the drugs. But that didn't stop me from pressing my face up against the tank and watching a black and white striped bubby make bubbles in my direction. He was so social.

"Dude," Matt said. His voice sounded far away and fuzzy. I wasn't sure if it was my hearing, or if he was just talking that way. "Are you okay?"

"The fish are talking to me," I said.

"Dude," he repeated. "What are they saying!?"

I shook my head, feeling my nose slide against the glass. "I don't know man, I don't know. It's a lot of, um, a lot of -" I leaned back, sucked my cheeks between my teeth, and pressed my lips together in a kissing motion so that I could mimic the bubbles fish made when they talked.

Matt looked at me like I was an idiot. "Dude," he said again. He said 'dude' a lot when he was high. "That is not the sound fish make."

"Yes it is!"

"No it's not," Matt said. "Fish go 'glu glu'."

I blinked at him. "What kind of fucking fish are you talking to?"

"Uh," Matt said. It sounded a lot like 'duh'. "Mexican ones."

I stared at him for a long time, then cracked up laughing. "There are Mexican fish?!"

"Yeah!" Matt said. "They live in Mexico!"

"Mexico has fish!" God, that was funny. So fucking funny. I grabbed onto Matt's shoulder and then pointed at the striped fish in the tank that I had been talking to. "Did you hear that, buddy? Mexican fish. I guess you're gonna have to learn Spanish."

"I can teach him," Matt said. "It'll be okay. 'Glu glu' isn't hard to say."

"Glu glu," I repeated, and took a deep breath so I could calm down my laughing. "Man. Whew. That's great."

I fell against him and he caught me before I stumbled. "Bro, how did I get so lucky to have a friend like you?"

Matt shrugged. "I'm just generous like that."

I snorted and pushed at his shoulder. He pushed back until we were both standing on our own, then said something about going to get another beer. I waved him off, I wanted to go back to the fish, but when I looked for them I couldn't find them. I hated when shit disappeared like that.

I didn't know whose house I was at. That was probably becoming too common of a trend. The hallway twisted and turned in front of me, making my walking uneven. I knew there was a bathroom somewhere, and I could really use a piss.

Rich kids always managed to have music that drummed through the whole house - there was no escaping the party or the low lighting. I let myself be jostled between moving bodies until I reached for a door and pushed it open.

Not a bathroom, some kind of office. And it was occupied. The boy sitting on the desk looked at me with annoyance in his hooded eyes, His head was tilted to the side and someone was going at his neck. The body pressed up between his legs was definitely male.

I knew him. Lakyn James. I'd had him in a few classes back in middle school. He'd come out recently. Out of the closet. The whispers had spread all the way to the top: 'A gay in Bridgewood?'. He wasn't the only one - Lord knew a few glances in the right shadows at the right parties would prove that - but he was one of the few who said it out loud.

My pants felt tighter and the need to pee vanished and Lakyn was still looking at me. There was no way he recognized me. I doubted he'd be able to recognize anyone as trashed as he looked.