Page 8 of The Rest is History

Have I been well? No. Not at all. Not even a little bit. Not since the day my father forced him and his family out of our town because no son of his was going to be a homosexual, and, according to my father, it would be Asher’s fault if I turned out gay. I never figured out until much later that Asher's mother was my nanny, and his father was an employee at my father’s company. That the house they lived in belonged to my father and was just a perk of Mrs. Cameron’s job.

I always stupidly thought Mrs. Cameron was our neighbor who liked to take care of me and make me food and let me stay till late at her house next door.

My father used his power and influence to push them out.

“I’ll talk to Sawyer,” Asher says again. He tries to hide the sigh at the end, but I loved him first, and I know when Asher is worried about me.

Chapter 4

Asher Cameron

Gerald Duncan can look you straight in the eye and tell you how much he likes you five minutes after a one-hour dump session about you with someone else, namely Nurse Wilson from the Health Office.

Between his never-ending complaints about how no one takes his drama class seriously and Nurse Wilson’s less-than-desirable management of student health records, they manage to have something to say about every single person in Linksfield.

They have outside sources too, like Deliah from the General Store in town, who feeds their insatiable desire for gossip. It’s even worse now that Deliah is a conservative campaigner for the elections in November and is extra interested in everybody’s lives.

I usually try to stay away from them at all costs. Gerald waves at me now from across the football field. Fuck.

I wave back politely, praying the whole time that he doesn’t come over to this side of the field.

Guess what?

“Hey, Asher. Good weekend?”

I fix my eyes on the large sign ahead of me sprawled across the administration block that says LINKSFIELD HIGH SCHOOL, wishing for one moment that I had chosen a different career. If it meant not talking to Gerald Duncan ever again, I would’ve chosen any other way to make a living. “Yeah. Good, Gerald. Yours?”

“It was alright. Alright, I guess. You heard we’re finally putting in a plaque of the ten commandments in the main office? Order came straight from the top.”

“Hmm.”

Iowa is a swing state, which means it’s always advisable to be cautious when religious decisions are made in the name of national wellbeing. Enforced religious views usually mean trouble for people like me, and I will never give Gerald the satisfaction of entertaining his political debates no matter how much he goads me.

“Hope you make it to some of the debates happenin’ over the next few months. Some of ’em right here at school. Make sure you come, Cameron.”

“Hmm.” No. I won’t be coming to listen to people talk about the bible and God’s laws as part of their election campaign. I check the time on my phone. Three-fifteen. “Number twelve,” I call out to my quarterback, and Linksfield High’s team captain.

Sam Garcia jogs up to me from where he and the boys are getting ready for spring season practice. “I’m out early today, remember? Keep things going and I’ll see you all tomorrow, alright?”

Sam grins. “Hot date with your man?”

I roll my eyes and kick him sideways, shoving my foot into the back of his knee. All two hundred pounds fall half to the ground, and I chuckle. “Didn’t see that comin’, huh?”

He laughs and jogs backwards. “You always say sometimes we have to stay and fight, and sometimes we have to walk away. This is me walking away, Coach. I’ll get you next time.”

I shake my head, laughing. “Take care of the guys. I’m leaving.”

“You got it.” Sam heads back to the field, yelling, “Drill time.”

Watching the guys on the field reminds me of my high school days. The dreams I had for my future. The exhilaration of winning a game. The roar of the crowd. I had so many people in the stands cheering for me, but the one who mattered the most had been Reece Carter.

Reece’s father was there too. He attended every game. He helped me and my parents with applications to colleges I was considering. He never supported Reece in anything, but he always bragged about how his housekeeper’s son was a star.

Now, I realize it was all just good promo for the big construction magnate, doing charity work so the local government would hand him contracts. If I could get through college football and then to the NFL, he could claim all the credit.

All Buddy Carter wanted was a poor poster boy to show people how much he could do for the community. All I wanted was his son.

And then it all went up in flames.

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