Page 90 of Strange Lad

I’m transported back in time—back to high school. My senior year.

No one is going to show up. We are some no-name metal band playing out my damn garage. It took serious begging and bribing to get my mom to agree to it in the first place. And that’s only because my abuela threatened to disown her if she didn’t let me. I smirk, remembering it as I rip a piece of scotch tape off the roll and stick it to a flyer.

It’s probably silly to hang these up close to the gym, but how else would anyone see them if they were not plastered directly on their lockers? Some of the jocks are into metal—Morgan is. He’s not really myfriend, but he’s around enough that I feel rude to call him an acquaintance. Plus, he’s Michael’s brother. And Michael is my friend.

Sighing, I keep putting up the flyers until I get to the double doors leading to the gym. It’s late, so no one should be in there right now. No coaches to yell at me for soliciting my band like some cable salesman. The only reason I’m here this late is because I got stuck with detention again afteraccidentallytripping Taylor’s bitch ass. He’s such a punk—always running his mouth and picking on people. So, yeah. I laid him out. What I hadn’t accounted for was the Dean standing right behind me, watching me do it.

Worth it.

Just as I’m about to creep into the gym to stick more flyers on the lockers inside, one of the doors bursts open. Oli, Phoenix’s little brother, stumbles out of it. His shirt is slightly askew as if he rushed to get it on. His buzzed scalp looks a little wet. Maybe he got in a late shower? There’s a clammy gauntness to his cheeks. Is he sick? Snapping his head up to mine, there’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes. I nod my head to him, smiling, but his green eyes are dull in their sockets.

It’s then I realize he’s sweaty. Not wet.

My mouth opens to say something, but he rushes past me.

He hurries down the hall, his backpack thrown over his shoulder, and I note the subtle limp in his stride. Huh. Must’ve pulled something during practice. I stand there stupidly, watching him disappear, and my stomach churns. He must be really sick. I hope he’s okay. Making a mental note to ask Phoenix later, I shrug it off and enter the gym.

“Jorge?” Eli whispers because I’m trembling.

The part of the memory I refuse to acknowledge was finding Morgan in that gym. He was happy, chatty, and fresh out of the shower—towel slung over his hips. I didn’t think anything of it. It didn’t evenregisterthat I was standing in the presence of a sexual fucking predator while I happily stuck flyers all over the football team's lockers while he egged me on.

“It was Morgan,” I snarl. “Morgan.”

Eli’s eyebrow raises. “Michael’s brother?”

“Yes,” I hiss, shoving to my feet.

I need to move. Need to dosomething.I can’t sit here like some punished dog while Olineedsme.

Hesitating only for a moment, I ignore the urge to knock and twist the handle to my room. When I open it, I see Oli and Phoenix sitting side by side in silence. The thing that stuns me, though, is how shutdown Oli appears. Like being beside his brother is physically painful. Phoenix grinds his jaw, his chimera eyes meeting mine. They reflect all his emotions. My betrayal, his fear and worry for Oli, and the confusion about why everything is happening.

Oli won’t look at me at all.

“Phoenix,” I croak and jerk my head.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers to Oli.

Oli says nothing.

Phoenix follows me out, gently shutting my door like that’ll block any sound. It won’t, so I urge him to come out front. Eli trails us, quietly watching. I purge when we all stand on my porch, my front door shut. God, do I let it all fly from my lips like a broken fire hydrant. I tell him about Oli and I, how it all started, why it continued, and that I’ve lied to him for over a year. I tell him it’s evolved, that I’m probably in love with Oli. That segues into how we’ve tried to be intimate, but his trauma keeps stopping it.

I let out every detail I feel like Phoenix should know, all the while hoping I’m not making a huge mistake. Oli told me I could tell him. He gave me permission.

When I finally stop speaking, out of breath and shaking so violently because the crucial piece of information I’m withholding has to come with sensitivity and care, Phoenix puffs his vape.

I know he’s been trying to quit since it could possibly trigger Eli.

Since he’s doing it, I pull mine out. I’m not anywhere near as addicted to it as Phoenix is, but I need something—anything to cope because I can’t beg to be held.

Phoenix ispissed. He’s hurt and devastated, and it’s all my fault.

“You knew someone raped my baby brother and didn’t tell me,” he starts, voice hard and wicked sharp. “Why didn’t you tell me, Jorge?”

I swallow hard, squeezing my vape so tightly I’m sure it’ll crack. “I only recently figured it out.”

“So? This whole time—” Phoenix’s face crumbles. The anger is replaced by despair. “Youknew. Youkneweverything and left me out. Of everyone in this world, I never thought you’d do that to me.”

Eli rushes to Phoenix’s side, holding his hand tightly. “Don’t do this right now,” he pleads with Phoenix. “Oli needs you.”

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