Free Rainbow Boys by Alex Sanchez Page A

was putting away the groceries.
    “Why do you keep buying beer for him?” Jason asked.
    She stared at Jason as if he’d spoken a foreign language. “I guess I never thought about it.” She closed the cupboard. “Your friend seems nice.”
    Jason agreed, though he wondered what she’d say if she knew Kyle was queer.
    He returned to his room, turned the stereo on, and bounced onto the bed, feeling happy. He’d enjoyed being with Kyle. He liked hearing what it was like for him to be … gay. Who would’ve thought that one day he’d have a gay guy over and together they’d listen to a tape of a group called The Butthole Surfers?

CHAPTER 8
    A fter dinner that evening, Kyle lay in bed, hardly able to believe he’d actually been inside Jason Carrillo’s room! He recalled the basketball trophies, the posters, the algebra book on Jason’s lap. It had been torture trying to concentrate. He’d had to take one step at a time and keep asking Jason questions just to keep on track. He could still smell the cologne. He pressed his wrists tightly against his nose, taking in the rich Jason aroma, and sighed.
    There was a knock on the door, and his mom peeked in to say good night. Kyle wanted to tell her everything that had happened: “He’s on the basketball team. I love him!” That would be one way to come out. Maybe he could invite Jason over. “Mom? Dad? This is Jason, my future boyfriend.” Right. It would never happen.
    Kyle brushed his teeth, undressed, and turned off the aquarium lamp. He dug his hand into the nightstand drawer and pulled out last year’s Zephyr. He thumbed through the dogeared pictures of Jason and felt himself swell up. He would never get to sleep like this. He put the yearbook away and found the Honcho magazine Nelson had given him. He turned the pages to a photo of a guy in Kalamazoo, Michigan, draped naked over an electric car he’d built from old automobile parts, solar panels, and a glider wing. Before Kyle knew it, he was asleep.
    When he awoke, the bright sunlight of morning shone in his eyes. His mom sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his hair. “What happened?” she said. “Fell asleep reading and forgot to set your alarm?”
    He watched groggily as she glanced around. For the past week she’d nagged him to straighten up his room. She reached down, picking something up off the floor.
    With a jolt he snapped awake. She’d picked up the Honcho.
    She stared at the magazine with the sort of bewildered look she got when she worked crossword puzzles. “Kyle, what is this?” Her voice was stiff and formal.
    His mind spun. Think fast. What could he say? Gee, Mom, how did that get there? It’s certainly not mine. I don’t know where it came from.
    She raised her hand as though to stop him from whatever nonsense he might say. Placing the magazine down on his nightstand, she abruptly smoothed her skirt, and rose. “How about you get ready for school and we’ll talk downstairs?” She left the room.
    Kyle sprang out of bed and shoved the magazine beneath his sheets. A s if that would do any good now. He should never have taken the stupid magazine. He could kill Nelson. He took a deep breath and looked out the window at the driveway. His dad had already left for work. Thank God.
    He showered and brushed his teeth, accidentally dropping the toothpaste cap into the toilet. Crap. He pulled the magazine back out from under his sheets and stuffed it into his backpack. Maybe his mom would forget about it. Keep dreaming. She might be too embarrassed to mention it, but she wouldn’t forget about it.
    He pushed the kitchen door open a crack. His mom was wiping the countertop with one hand. In the other, she held a steaming mug to her lips, blowing into it.
    She turned and saw him. “Kyle, we need to talk.”
    He grabbed a yogurt from the refrigerator. “I’m late, Mom.”
    She set her mug down. “We need to discuss this.” Her tone was deliberate. “Can we agree to talk when I get