him, and he almost felt bad for his friend. “Omigod!” He sounded like a
little kid. “Xander, I don"t even know where you live!”
The Locker Room
11
Xander"s bruised lip quirked up, and the entire swollen side of his
face gave an enthusiastic throb of pain.
“You think there might be a reason for that?” he asked simply, and
Chris clapped his hand over his mouth.
“You never said,” he muttered, devastated. “It was so bad, and you
just showed up at my door, and you never said—”
Xander yanked his shoulder around protectively and shoved his
stolen glasses up on his face. “You"ve got a good life, Christian. You"ve
got a good family. Didn"t want them to think I was too much trouble,
"kay?”
“No!” Christian was honestly in pain, and Xander didn"t know
what to do. His hands actually fluttered, until they ended up on his
friend"s shoulders, and he looked around anxiously. He and Chris always
went early, but there was always the chance that someone would catch
them acting like fags on the street corner, and there would go… well,
basketball. He couldn"t imagine playing basketball and having that sort
of thing bouncing around. There would go his teachers" respect and all of
the shit he"d worked for so hard the year before. No. No. He would just
calm Chris down, and they could go back to walking, side by side, on the
way to school.
“Look, man,” he whispered, furiously. “Just calm down! Calm
down! Usually I"m smarter, okay? But I got home late, and he spotted
the money in my backpack, "cause I got paid last night, and, well, I don"t
know what the fuck to say! I was stupid! I got caught! It won"t happen
again!”
But somehow, that just made Chris cry more. “You weren"t