Call Me Becky

Warning: this story contains offensive language.

Three of my fingers fit perfectly into the groove at the nape of his neck. Sitting three rows behind him now, I see that his hairline isn’t an abrupt straight line, like mine – thanks to my mother and her clippers – but rather a gradual thinning.  A “fade”, it’s called. 

“Earth to Mr. Shaw…”

Shit. I focus on the board. Linear equation. The chalk in Mr. Cody’s hand is hovering over the “m” in the formula

“Slope?” I manage.

“You’re lucky this time, Mr. Shaw. Please grace us with your presence, both mental AND physical.” His eyes dart down to my lap, and then back up to my eyes. I look down at my lap and see what I already know is there. 

I tutor a Grade 9 kid named Jack at school after class on Tuesdays. After our session yesterday, I heard footsteps behind me in the hall. I turned, expecting to see Jack. He likes to be seen with me because I am in Grade 12. He doesn’t realize that I am a nerd, and that hanging out with nerds – even Grade 12 nerds – will not help him climb the school’s steep social ladder.

It wasn’t Jack. It was Aiden. My face went hot. I suddenly needed a cold shower and a shot of tequila. He didn’t notice me, of course. His eyes were focused ahead, on the front door. 

“Hey…” I croaked as he passed me. 

He stopped dead. So I stopped dead, too. Otherwise, I would have been standing right beside him, causing me to spontaneously combust. When he turned to face me, his eyes – light brown, with flecks of gold – met mine. 

“Hey…do I know you?” he asked curiously. 

“I’m in your Math class, but I don’t think we’ve ever, you know, met…” So pathetic. He’s a jock – not someone who talks to nerds. 

“Well, I’m Aiden.” I knew his name. We’d been in school together since Grade 9. He extended his hand towards me.

“Hi. Cole.” I managed to shake his hand without disintegrating. 

“Well, Cole, I have to jet. I’m leaving practice early to see my girl at Candy’s. It’s hard to get in with my girl, and she’s the only one that does my fade right…” He made a sweeping motion over his head with his left hand, which is why I now know the meaning of the term “fade”.   

“Sure, okay…” I mumbled. When he turned to leave, I felt a pull and realized that our hands were still joined. I yanked my hand away quickly. “Sorry. I guess I didn’t notice that…”

He turned back around and looked directly into my eyes again. A lopsided smile crept over his face. I held my face as still as possible, afraid to give up my secret. Then he winked at me.

“It’s cool, man. I’m going to give you Candy’s number. No offence, but maybe it’s time to get a real cut, not a momma hack job – yes?” He looked around and spotted the Drama Club sign-up list on the bulletin board beside the office. He grabbed the pen hanging beside it and walked towards me. The string on the pen resisted his tug. “Come here – I don’t want to yank it off the wall.” I stepped closer so he could write on my hand. “There you go. See you around, okay?” 

Aiden weaved through the security gates, pushed through the front doors, and was out of sight before I looked at my hand. 

645-435-1188 Text me.  

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My phone vibrates in my pocket. I’m already on Mr. Cody’s radar – checking my phone will get me kicked out of class. I take the risk.

Aiden: Be cool ;)

Me: Cool as a cucumber.

Aiden: I saw your cucumber…

Oh my God. He must have looked back when I was answering Mr. Cody. I’m such a loser. My phone vibrates again.

Aiden: It’s a sexy cucumber.

“That’s it, Mr. Shaw. Put your phone on my desk, and head down to the office.” Mr. Cody isn’t smiling at all anymore.

____________________________________________________________________________________

Me: Hi. Aiden?

It took me three hours to decide on those two words and hit “send”. 

Aiden: Finally, he texts…

Me: Sorry. Homework. I had no homework. Just tuna casserole with my parents and staring at my phone.

Aiden: Meet me tomorrow morning, before school?

Me: Why? When? Where? Smooth, Cole. 

Aiden: 7. Come around back. There are steps down to a door. I’ll let you in.

Me: Why?

Aiden: ttyl

Me: k

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I ran the four blocks to the school and around the back to find the steps. They were hidden behind a massive electrical box, and a chain was woven through the rungs of the railing. I ducked under the chain and went down the steps. I looked at my phone. 6:49 a.m. Movement at the window beside the door caught my attention. A second later, the door creaked open.

“Good morning, sunshine!” He grabbed my arm and pulled me in, pushing the door closed behind me. It was pitch dark. The smell of mold and sweat filled my nose.

 “Where are we?” I managed to choke out. 

“The football storage room. Sorry it’s so dark. It was easier to see outside with the light off.”

I felt the air move near my head. A click, and the room flooded with light. We were standing in a small room – more like a closet – crammed full of sports equipment.

“Hi, Cole.” He was wearing black track pants and a red faded t-shirt. His dark hair was shorter.

“Hi….I like your, uh, fade?”

“Thanks, man! I’m glad you came this morning.” He smiled sheepishly.

“I was awake all night,” I replied. His smile unlocked my honesty.

“Me too,” he said. “I’ve been at that window for almost an hour…” He stepped towards me tentatively. 

“So…” I managed before he put his hand on my shoulder and rendered me speechless. I placed my left hand on his neck. Three of my fingers slotted perfectly into the nape of his neck. He brushed my lips with his thumb. Electricity shot from my lips to my groin and back. I reached my right hand up to his left ear and cupped it lightly. 

“Yes,” he whispered hoarsely. I tightened my grip on his ear and pulled him towards me. As our lips met, he pushed me backwards against the door. He pressed his groin against mine. I forced his lips open with my tongue. He moaned and pulled me closer.

A car door closed outside. Aiden jumped back. 

“Woah, Cole. Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to go there.  I just couldn’t…I just wanted…” now he was the one at a loss for words.

“It’s okay. I wanted, too,” I said, and smiled. I didn’t feel awkward, for once in my life. 

______________________________________________________________________________________

When I’m just about to turn the corner and enter the office, he calls to me. He followed me from Mr. Cody’s room.

“Hey. Coach asked me to get something from the supply room….” He stage-whispers the lie to the back of my head. “Meet me there in a few…” 

My mind is racing for a way to get out the front doors without being noticed. The front office is all windows. As I approach, however, I notice that the attendance secretary is not at her desk. I drop to my hands and knees so I am below the windows, and crawl under the security gates. I push the front door open with my head and use the door handle for balance as I get to my feet. Just then, someone outside grabs the handle and pulls the door open wider, making me wobble. I steady myself and look up to see a tall man with a dark beard. He’s wearing a John Deere cap, pulled low, and dark shaggy bangs are falling into his eyes. There’s something familiar about his eyes.

“Thanks, mate,” he grumbles. “The door was locked…” The door is always locked by this time of day. I consider telling him to buzz in next time and ask the secretary to let him inside, but thoughts of Aiden waiting for me quickly erase my intentions. The man pushes past me, and the door closes behind him.

I take a step away from the door, only to be pulled immediately backwards by my untied shoelace which is being squeezed between the security-enforced front doors. When I bend down to yank it loose, I notice the man standing in the front foyer. As I watch, he drops to his knees and begins crawling under the security gates. His jacket rides up around his waist, and I see the butt of a pistol sticking out of his back pocket.

______________________________________________________________________________________

I explode up onto my feet and pull at the door handle. Locked. I lunge towards the call box, breaking my shoelace in the process. I press and hold the buzzer button. “Hello, hello, hello?” I yell before remembering that the secretary cannot respond to me if I don’t release the button. I press and release, press and release. “Hello? Hello? There’s a strange man with a gun…” I yell, feeling my legs shake. No response. I run.

I’m banging on the green metal door. When Aiden opens the door, I fall into the storage room onto my knees. 

“Cole! Jeesuz…be quiet!”

“There’s a man. With a gun…” I manage to blurt between gulps of air.

“What? Where? Why?” he asks in unconscious mimicry of my text questions the night before. 

“A man. With a beard. He has a gun. I let him in by accident. He got past the gates…”

“Oh shit. Brad. FUCK!!” Aiden is running away from me, weaving his way around piles of jerseys and shoulder pads.   

He runs, and I follow, through a dimly lit hallway. I catch up to him at the top of a wooden staircase. He’s looking through the small window of a white metal door. I push in beside him and look out to realize that we are standing on the other side of the “Furnace Room” door at the far end of the main hallway.  

“You said he had a beard?” he asks. His voice cracks on the last word.

“Ya. Black beard. John Deere hat. Dark hair hanging in his eyes…” Those eyes…  

“My brother. Older brother. Brad.”

His words don’t make sense. All I know is that there is guy with a gun in the school, and we need to warn everyone. I try to open the door. It’s locked. I notice the key on a lanyard around Aiden’s neck. He grabs my hand when I try to grab it. 

“Don’t go out. He won’t hurt anyone out there. He only wants to find me….and you.” He adds this last part as he pulls me down into a squatting position. “This is the safest place for us.”

“Why? Your brother? What…?” I need information, but I can’t form coherent questions.

“He must have seen my phone. Must have known where we’d be this morning…”

Dread floods me as I realize what he is saying. His brother – Brad - the crazy man with the gun – had been spying on us through the window of the equipment room that morning. The car door closing must have been him. Was he arriving or leaving? How much did he see? Enough to go back for a gun. Enough to come back for us. 

“Does he know who I am? Does he know my name?” I ask, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach.

“No, of course not. I have you as “Becky” in my contacts.” 

“Becky? Why…” I begin, but am interrupted by a loud thump. Brad is body-slamming the other side of the white door. The door shakes on its hinges. I look up to see an eyeball peering through the small window. Light brown, with gold specks. He can’t see us because he’s standing in the light of the hallway while we cower in the darkness. 

“AIDEN…ohhh Aiden….I know you’re in there. Are you with your little boyfriend? Stop hiding in the closet, you FAGS!!” He yells this last word and bangs both fists on the door. Light filters in as his shadow disappears from the window. Heavy footsteps retreat down the hall.

Aiden is shaking beside me. I put my arm around him and pull him close. I can feel his clammy skin through his thin t-shirt. “Breathe in…breathe out...” I whisper into his ear. “It’s okay. We are going to be okay.”

“AIDEN FAGGOT-FUCKING WILSON!! Where are you, my fudge-packing little brother?!” The words aren’t new – they’ve been whispered behind my back, yelled to my face, and scrawled on my locker for years. But this time, these words aren’t for me. This time, these words are aimed at a scared boy who is trembling in my arms. I know what I need to do. I unlatch the lanyard from around Aiden’s neck, stand up, and unlock the door. I’m in the hallway before Aiden realizes what I’ve done, and before my mind can stop my body from walking towards Brad’s voice. 

I see him standing in front of the Football Showcase near the office, studying last year’s trophy. The pistol is in his hand, hanging loosely by his right side. Further down the hall, a girl comes out of the washroom. She’s wearing red converse shoes, and she’s chewing her fingernail. Large headphones cover her ears. I wave to catch her attention. She looks up at me, then at Brad. Her eyes widen to saucers before she retreats back into the washroom. My wave catches Brad’s attention, and he snaps his head around to look at me. 

“Well, well, well…the boy who let me in,” he jeers. Now, if you could just tell me where I can find my baby brother, Aiden Wilson, I will gladly be on my way…”

Brad is a taller, rougher version of Aiden. Same dark hair, same light brown eyes. When Brad speaks, however, all similarities vanish; his jeering sarcasm turns my blood to ice.

“Hey – faggot – I’m talking to you!” he bellows. 

I pull myself up to my full 5’9” height and take a few steps towards Brad. Clearly surprised, he steps back. His retreat bolsters my bravado, and I stand even taller. We are less than 20 feet apart now. “Hey there, Brad,” I say calmly. 

“How do you know me?” he asks, quieter now.

“I know your brother, Aiden…” I begin. 

“You’re his faggy boyfriend…I should have recognized you from this morning…”

My heart drops. He knows who I am.

“Aiden is your brother, Brad. He’s your little brother,” I plead. For a moment, his face softens. Then he raises his gun.

“He’s a little cocksucker. Just like his dad. And so are you…”  He aims at me and pulls back on the trigger. I dive onto the ground, bracing for impact, but feel water on my head instead. Someone has pulled the fire alarm, triggering the overhead sprinklers. Brad looks up at the ceiling, then back down, his gun still pointed at me. 

“Brad…stop.” I hear Aiden’s voice behind me. He must have caught the Furnace Room door before it closed and locked. He must have pulled the fire alarm. “It’s me you want – not him.”

Brad steps quickly towards Aiden, but slips on the water puddling at his feet. His left hand darts out and grabs at something on the bulletin board - the pen tied to the Drama Club sign-up sheet. The string breaks, and Brad falls. He releases his hold on the gun when his hand hits the tiles; it slides sideways a few feet before it is stopped by a red converse shoe. The blue-haired girl from the bathroom calmly bends to pick up the gun, opens the cylinder, and empties the cartridge. One bullet.

______________________________________________________________________________________

The next day, I find out from the police officer who’s questioning me – again - that the blue-haired girl’s name is Becky. I laugh when I hear this. The officer looks at me strangely. 

“Sorry. It’s just that Aiden called me that once…When can I see him?”

“Not for a few days, at least. We have him and his mother in protective custody until his brother is arraigned,” she responds. 

“Does he have his phone?”

“No,” she responds without looking up from her notes. “We’ll be getting him a new number. I’m sure he’ll text you when he can.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

A few days later, I am trying to catch up on the math I’ve missed when my phone pings.

No Caller ID: Hey there, Becky…;)

Me: Aiden? 

No Caller ID: Alive and well.

Me: Thank Christ! You good?

No Caller ID: Surviving. You?

Me: I’m okay. Thanks for saving my life. -

No Caller ID: You saved my life, too. We’re even.

Me: Actually, Becky saved both of our lives. That girls knows how to handle herself in an emergency!

No Caller ID: She sure does! 

Me: Your brother…

No Caller ID: In jail. They don’t think he was going to actually shoot us. He only had one bullet.

Me: Ya. I saw that.

No Caller ID: Likely for himself. He’s tried before, but never with a gun. 

I stare at the screen and struggle for a response. I feel too many things all at once.

No Caller ID: I just changed your contact information to Cole. There really is only one Becky, after all. 

Me: And how many Coles are there?

No Caller ID: One Cole. Just one. And I can’t wait to see him again.