Free Out of Nowhere by Roan Parrish

that? Huh. I guess I forgot.”
    “Queer? Like… all of them?”
    Rafe nods.
    “Wait, seriously?”
    “Seriously,” Rafe says calmly.
    My heart starts to pound. “Wait, wait, so do they think I’m —” My breath starts coming faster than it should, and I note, absently, that I haven’t had any problems with my breathing all day.
    Rafe puts his hand on my forearm. I jerk my arm away and look around to make sure no one saw. He sighs and leans back.
    “No,” Rafe says. “We have straight volunteers. They don’t know anything. I promised you I wouldn’t expose you like that and I meant it. I wouldn’t expose you by implication either. I swear.” He’s careful not to touch me, but he’s looking at me intently, like he can will me to trust him.
    “So, then, why didn’t you tell me it was a… queer”—the word sounds wrong in my mouth, like it should be an insult but it isn’t—“group? And drop that bullshit about forgetting. You seem like you never forget anything.”
    “Fine. I didn’t mention it because I wanted you to go into it with an open mind. Not only for yourself, but for the kids. A lot of people bring a shitload of stereotypes to working with queer youth. I’ll bet you know exactly the stereotypes I’m talking about, because I think you might have them for yourself.”
    What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
    “If you want to change your mind now that you know, I suppose that’s your prerogative.”
    Wow, way to totally put me in a tight spot, dude. Now I’ll look like a complete asshole if I don’t come back. But if someone found out about it, they’d ask all kinds of questions—questions about me. Then I think about how DeShawn shook my hand, so polite and grateful; how Ricky seemed mesmerized by the insides of the car just like I am; how kid-in-black seems to love Harry Potter …. He kind of reminded me of Daniel, relating real shit to books.
    “No, I—I’m not changing my mind. Next Saturday?”
    Relaxed Rafe is back.
    “Yes, absolutely,” he says, smiling at me. “If it’s going to be a regular thing, I’ll look at our schedule and see if we want to keep it at this time or if another time is better. Do you have a preference?”
    “Well, ordinarily I work Saturday mornings until two. If it was in the afternoon, I guess I could still go to work and—” I break off. It was nice this morning to wake up and know that I had something to do but have it not be going to work. “You know what, actually, the morning is great.”
    “Hey,” Rafe says suddenly, “did you say you run?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Me too. We should go running some time.”
    “Sure, man, that sounds good.”
    Rafe nods. “Thanks, Colin. For today.” His voice is warm and when we shake, his hand swallows mine up, embraces it. He holds on a second longer than most guys would, and looks right in my eyes. “I’ll see you soon,” he says. And it sounds like a promise.

Chapter 4
     
     
    ON A good day, running is when I feel most… normal. The tension slowly drains out of me and after a few miles I’m relaxed, floating, like the buzz off a few beers. I’m weightless, suspended between each step as if I might never land, muscles, joints, blood, breath all working together like the parts of a perfectly functioning vehicle.
    “How far do you like to go?” Rafe asks.
    “I don’t really keep track. You?”
    “About five miles, usually. But I’ll follow your lead, okay?”
    I set a steady pace to get warmed up and Rafe follows me, speeding up when I do. After about ten blocks, we settle in, him on my left. His strides are longer than mine since he’s so freaking tall, but I’m faster. He’s steady, each footfall in perfect rhythm, almost like he’s running in place, whereas I know I speed up and slow down a little as the rhythm of my music changes. Since I never ran track, I never bothered with things like keeping a consistent pace or paying attention to how far or how fast I ran. Mostly I just