Page 92 of Out of Bounds

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CLIFF

The high from last night continued to buzz through Cliff as he suited up for practice. After the art show, he and Brennan held a private afterparty in his loft, where they made good use of the Blue Rocket.

He joined his teammates warming up on the court. Cliff inhaled the smell of the waxed floor and listened to the familiar squeak of sneakers. Basketball and Brennan filled his soul.

“Look alive.” Carpenter passed him the ball. Cliff approached as he dribbled it through his legs. Carpenter attempted to steal, but Cliff spun around him like spindle cleaners at the car wash and drove to the net. At the last second, he passed to Dell in the corner who sunk a glorious three-pointer. He hoped it was the start of an olive branch.

He heard clapping from the bleachers. Mr. Wyndham sat with Coach Trainor. Didn’t the guy have a job to go to? He hopped off his seat and approached. Cliff wanted to dribble away, but he’d already been spotted.

“Cliff, looking good out there,” Mr. Wyndham said. “I got a great response from my church about your talk to the youth group. They may want you to come by for an encore for the holidays.”

His buzz disappeared fast. The court was his home. He hated feeling uncomfortable in his home.

“I won’t be here for the holidays. I’m going back to Wisconsin.”And my boyfriend is coming with me.

“Maybe we could do something before you leave.”

Cliff couldn’t give another speech like that. His vocal chords would shut down in protest. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m going to pass.” He tried to sound as diplomatic as he could and hold back his anger at having to kowtow to this wealthy homophobe.

“Why?” Mr. Wyndham asked, confused at somebody telling him no.

“Because he’s a homo.” Altshuler galloped across the court on his crutches. It was the first time he attended practice since his fall.

“Altshuler, cut it out,” Coach Trainor said.

Cliff rolled his eyes and tried to laugh it off, but internally, he went on high alert.

“He was kissing a guy at some gallery thing last night. And I saw a guy leave his room in the morning last week.”

Cliff didn’t need a mirror to see how red he was. His teammates gawked at him.

“Is that true?” Mr. Wyndham asked.

He wasn’t ready for this. He talked with Brennan last night, during those rare moments when their lips weren’t pressed together, about a game plan for coming out to his teammates. This was an ambush.

Althsuler limped to Coach and pointed his crutch right at Cliff. “Coach Trainor, the captain of the team is supposed to be the moral compass.” He glanced at Mr. Wyndham, playing this perfectly.

Sharp pain hit Cliff’s chest. The pride he felt in his choice last night hardened into shame.

“And I found this in your room.” He pulled out his phone and there on screen was his bottle of lube on the floor, even though he remembered storing it in his dresser.

“You broke into my room?” Cliff tried to grab the phone away, but Altshuler blocked him with a crutch. He showed the image around to all of his teammates.

Altshuler walked in a circle around Cliff, putting him on full display. “You’re the captain, and as captain, you have a responsibility to be a leader to your teammates and a role model for our school. How can you earn any teammate’s respect when you’ve been lying to us this whole time, sharing a locker room and shower with us?”

Cliff wanted to fight back, but instead he felt his body shrivel up. His contemplation about the end of his basketball career was interrupted by Dell’s voice.

“Yo.” Dell raised his hand. “That’s not Cliff’s.” He walked over and clapped Cliff on the back. “Thanks for holding onto my lube for me. I’ll come pick it up later.”

“What? This isn’t yours,” Altshuler said of the picture.

“Yeah, it is.”

“What are you using it for then?”

“None of your business. Also, that guy was coming out of my room.” Dell stepped forward and slipped his hands into his pockets defiantly. He cocked his head, daring Altshuler to question him.