Chapter 5: The Cheats

 

CW: slurs, references to child abuse

 

Matt had almost made it outside. The mesh of the screen door was right there. He could see the dried up fly that had died trying to crawl through. He had been so close, the stale smell of grass that was more dust than plant wafted him in the face. So close, yet so far. 

“Where are you going, Matthew?” Linda asked. Matt released the door handle and turned around. His mother was still cradling her cup of morning coffee, but she wasn’t so much drinking it as she was using it as a prop for her to stare at him over.

“I’m going to school, Mom. It’s Friday.” She probably knew damn well it was a Friday. 

“School’s not for another hour, Mattie,” his mom said. “The walk there doesn’t take that long.”

“I know, Mom,” he said, “but I need to be there early. I’m still in detention, remember?”

“Don’t talk back to your mother,” Duncan said. He didn’t even look up from his newspaper. Who even still read newspapers? He was clearly off work today — either that or casual Fridays allowed for a dirty tank and shorts. 

“Yes, sir,” Matt said, managing against his own instincts to leave sarcasm out of his voice. “I’m just saying, I need to be in school early.”

“And whose fault is that?” his mom asked as she sipped her coffee.

“Um,” Matt said, “mine?”

“That’s right,” Linda said. “And I had better not find you lying about that, young man. I know you want to hang out with that Teague boy.” She pursed her lips. They became a thin and slightly purple line. “You had better not.”

“He’s just in detention too, Mom,” Matt said. “I can’t help that.”

“You shouldn’t be around him,” she replied, sipping her coffee and smacking her lips. The wet, meaty sound of it made Matt want to filet himself. “He’s a bad influence. You shouldn’t be around people like that. We told you already.”

“People like what?” Matt asked. He was feeling defiant, kicking the hornet’s nest like he was expecting that to go well for him. “What kind of bad influence?”

“He’s a faggot, Matthew,” his dad said matter-of factly, flipping a page. “We don’t want him tempting you into doing ungodly things behind the bike sheds.”

“What are you talking about?!” Matt said. He wished he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but he absolutely could. His grandfather had been no different. In fact, Dad sounded proud when he mentioned his own father would take out his belt when he disapproved of young Duncan’s own rebellious and ‘ungodly’ phases. “Will and I aren’t… We aren’t like that! He’s just a friend!”

“You say that, honey,” Linda said, “but that’s how they get you. They’re around you, they’re your friend, and they make you think what they do is normal.” She looked ridiculous with how worried she was. There were tears in her eyes, like she genuinely cared about his well-being. 

“Before you know it,” his father said, infuriatingly still reading, “you’ll be sucking each other off after class.” His mom let out a choked sob. Matt couldn’t tell if it was fake, and if he was angrier at the possibility that it was or that it wasn’t. “When you get home from school tonight, we’re going to have a proper conversation, man to man, about what’s right and what’s wrong.” He finally put the newspaper down. “I don’t know what they’re teaching you about in that school of yours, but it’s clearly messing with you kids.” He turned to his wife. “Maybe we need to go have a talk with his teachers.”

“We might have to,” Linda said solemnly like she’d just resigned herself to be executed. Matt wanted to say a lot of things. Most of them were four letters. He also wanted to point out that his teachers had only said two things about gay people and that that was jack and shit, and that what he got at school was a lot of barely-readable literature and geography and math and that was it. But most of all he wanted to defend Will and he didn’t know how he was supposed to do that. 

His parents had made up their mind about his friend and he could tell that they weren’t going to change it. Linda sometimes joked that the last time Duncan changed his mind was in ‘92, when he’d “almost made the mistake of voting for Clinton.” Matt’s father didn’t have a one-track mind. That implied it had a clear destination. Duncan’s mind was more like a steamroller with a brick on the pedal, flattening any and all opposition with no real regard for damage or, in fact, much of anything. A direction was set and the steamroller rolled. 

And it was going to flatten his friendship with Will. “I’m going to class,” Matt said. He didn’t let the pit in his stomach sit. He’d deal with it later. Pushing it down, he turned around and stepped outside, ignoring the outcries from his mother not to leave without saying goodbye. He took a step to the right and one of his dad’s sandals sailed through where his head had been a second ago. 

Even at the speed it was going, the scent trail was potent-going-on-pungent. He stepped over it on his way off the lawn and made his way to the construction site. He needed to be away from his parents, who he hoped would have forgotten about this when he got home, and he needed to be around good people. 

Will saw his face as he walked up next to Matt. “Damn,” he said. “That bad, huh?” Matt took a deep breath and relayed what his parents had said, not holding anything back. He’d learned that Will didn’t like secrets, and didn’t like being kept in the dark “to keep him safe.” Matt fully expected an outburst of rage or indignation, but instead, Will just laughed as they arrived at the hole in the fence.

“You’re not mad?” Matt asked. 

“Why would I be mad?” Will said as they approached the others. They were the last to get there. “Your dad’s an asshole. Always has been. Might as well be mad at turds for stinking. Hey, guys.”

“Mad about what?” Franklin asked. He was wearing a varsity jacket that made him look like the platonic ideal of an athlete. Either that, or Matt was biased. Surely it couldn’t be that. He caught himself looking and quickly turned away, his father’s words still ringing in his ears. It was soothed slightly by the other three who looked genuinely happy to see him. 

“My parents don’t like him very much,” Matt said as he waved to the merry band. Mads was already playing with the coin, though not flipping it. Wendy sat on her book bag and was writing down some notes. Jacket was making a snow angel in the dirt. 

“Why?” Franklin asked as Matt sat down with the others. Will very seriously walked up to him , put a hand on his shoulder and looked him square in the eyes. 

“It’s because I’m a faggot, Franklin.” The look on Franklin’s face soured, hard. 

“Don’t say that, man.” He looked genuinely upset, to Will’s surprise. “You shouldn’t…”

“Why not?” Will said as he joined the others. “It’s what I am; being scared of the word isn’t going to make that go away or make people treat me different. Hey, guys.” 

“Because,” Franklin said as he joined them, “it’s hate speech. Using it too just makes it true in their eyes, doesn’t it?”

“But it is true, Frank,” Will fired back. “If the bad part is the fact that I like guys, then using the right word or the wrong word isn’t going to make a fuck of difference.”

“I… I guess,” Franklin said. He looked smaller than Matt had ever seen him. 

“How did you know?” Jacket said, sitting up, looking at Will. “Like, that you were, y’know, gay?”

“Well, I tried to suck myself off but I couldn’t bend that far,” he replied. Matt punched his arm. “Ow, okay, fine. I just kind of always knew that other kids and me didn’t have a lot in common. The guys were always busy with sports – no offense – and that just wasn’t me.”

“None taken,” Franklin mumbled. “But aren’t you kinda, like… sporty?”

“Because I keep getting in fights, Franklin, it’s harder to get your ass beat when you can run circles around the motherfuckers. That doesn’t mean I like it. Nah, I prefer me a teddy bear who makes me feel sm– protected.” Jacket hung on his every word, and he blushed when he noticed it. “Anyway! Wendy! You said to bring up the test today?” Will was clearly trying to change the subject when it was clear people were actually listening to him. 

“Yeah,” she said. “Yes. So, the test you’ve got today. It’s on The Great Gatsby, right?” Will nodded. “So yeah, I refreshed last night. I did a report on it last year, so it shouldn’t be an issue. That said…” She held her hand open. Mads dutifully put the coin in it. “How are we doing this? Because we can’t have two of me running around. If you turn into me, I can’t turn into you.”

“Why not?” Will asked. 

“Rule three!” Mads said. “If you use the coin to turn into someone, you turn into what they look like, not what they look like when they didn’t use the coin.”

“Right,” Wendy said. “So we need a buffer.”

“I’ll do it,” Mads said. “I’ve never been buff before.” Matt could tell Wendy was about to explain what she meant when she caught their shit-eating grin. 

“Okay, so, Mads turns into you, you turn into me, I turn into ‘Mads’ – who looks like you – and then Mads turns back,” Wendy said. “Wait, how’s your Spanish?”

“Terrible,” Matt said with a smile he knew would piss Will off.

“Oy,” Will started, and then immediately changed his mind and deflated. “I mean, yeah, it is.”

“I have Spanish today and I do want to do well,” Wendy said. My parents aren’t going to be home until Sunday but they will read my report card. And I can’t not show up to class.”

“Uh,” Matt said, raising his hand, “my Spanish is pretty good. I could step in for you.”

“Okay,” Wendy mumbled, “okay. So Mads turns into Will, Will turns into you, you turn into me, I turn into Mads and Mads turns back? I think that works?”

“This is making my head hurt,” Jacket said. “Hey, Franklin, wanna trade places?” The older boy laughed and shook his head.

“No, thanks, I don’t think you’d enjoy football practice,” he chuckled. 

Mads called Will’s name mid-flip, and then handed it to Will. After hearing his own name, Matt had the unpleasant experience of looking himself in the face, so he quickly took the coin and called Wendy’s name. It was the second time he’d turned into her, and he felt a lot more comfortable this time around. He was also aware of the added weight from the ponytail and… something up front. 

“When it comes to how you behave,” Wendy said matter-of-factly, holding up three fingers, “don’t mess with my bra – or talk to anyone about what’s in it. Two, don’t touch or talk to anyone you don’t know. Stay close to Franklin. And three: wipe front to back.” Matt felt his face flush red. 

“It doesn’t bother you?” Franklin asked. “A guy wearing you like a pair of clothes?”

“It would,” Wendy said, “but I’ve got a good feeling about Matt. I don’t know, he just feels trustworthy.”

“I’m right here,” Matt said, his voice feminine but not without edges, “and… thank you.”

“No worries,” Wendy said as she took the coin from him and flipped it. “Mads.” A second later, Will-Wendy (or was it Wendy-Will? It was getting confusing) gave the coin to them, who flipped it without saying anything. 

“Fuck yeah,” Napoleon said.