Page 78 of Muscle Cub

I reached for his hand and rubbed my thumb across his knuckles. “Did you ever hear from Tuck again or find out what happened to him?”

“No. I haven’t talked to anyone at the school for over a year. And it wouldn’t be appropriate to try to contact him.” His brown eyes welled up with an unfamiliar sadness. “I really failed him.” He sounded shocked by the realization.

“You didn’t fail him,” I said firmly, willing him to look me in the eye.

Austin shook his head, but he smiled. “Sorry. That was a lot. I would’ve told you the other night, but we were having such a great time.”

“I understand. It’s okay. Have you been able to talk to anyone else about this?”

“Jim. And a little bit with my parents. Mostly my mama.”

“Your parents have been supportive, then?”

“They have. But I’ve been kind of avoiding them for the past year. They keep wanting to know what my plan is. Last summer wasn’t long enough to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do with my life, but I was able to save a lot of what I made. I came back to Edgewood, got a few personal-training clients, worked out a lot. Now I’m back for another season, and I still don’t know what I’m gonna do when summer’s over.”

I smiled sympathetically. “Our education system perpetuates the myth that we can choose a path when we’re teenagers and never change course, and that if we don’t have our shit figured out by our midtwenties, we’ve failed. You know, if you even have an inkling of who you’re supposed to be in the world, you’re ahead of everyone else. You have a true north to navigate by at least.” I hesitated before asking, “Do you see yourself going back eventually?”

“No.” Austin shook his head, his voice adamant. “Definitely not there or anywhere else like it. Things aren’t getting better fast enough. In some ways, they’re getting worse. Teachers aren’t only unappreciated; they’re under attack. Queer youth are targeted. You know enough about me to know I’m not a pessimistic person. I’m positive about almost every aspect of my life. But this? Not anymore. I love the kids, but I don’t think a person like me can make a difference within the constraints of the public school system.”

“There are private schools.”

“Conservative, rich-people schools? Religious schools?” I’d never heard him sound bitter. “It’s too big a fight. I’m not a fighter. At all. I’m a cheerleader.”

“Well, what about an organization like Youth Alliance? Honey started out as a pissed-off parent whose son was told he couldn’t take his boyfriend to prom. So she hosted an alternative prom. And then she grew it into an enduring, successful nonprofit. She pretends to be a flaky socialite, but she’s very adept at politics. She’s been fighting bullshit in this state for over twenty years, and she serves the same kids you’re trying to reach. She said she has something you’d be perfect for.”

“You think she’d hire somebody with my employment history?” In his eyes, hope warred with skepticism.

“Hell, I think she might try to adopt you. I’ve known her a long time. She really likes you.” It pained me to see him, of all people, doubt himself. “It’s at least worth a follow-up.”

Austin looked at the dashboard clock. “Oh shit. I hate to drop this bomb and run, but I’m late.”

“Hey.” I stopped him before he got out of the truck. “Thanks for telling me everything. I’m glad you felt like you could.”

“I trust you.” He kissed me. “I’ll call you later. Oh! Do you want the rest of this cake? Talking about feelings is so draining. I think my blood sugar might be low.”

I laughed. “Take it.”

26

It hadn’t been a great place to leave a conversation like that. I spent the evening reconsidering who Austin was and where he was in life. He wasn’t some twentysomething fuck boy with no sense of purpose. He wanted to change real people’s actual lives. How did my obsessing about fictional characters even compare to that?

Later that night, when he called from the pole, I tried to bring it up again. I thought maybe since he’d opened up, he’d want to talk more, but he deflected.

“That’s why they’re called thoughts and feelings, Prof. You’re supposed to keep them inside. If you talk about them, they become words.” While I reeled from the nonsensical semantics, he asked, “So you’re coming next weekend?”

“To the… Running of the Bears?”

Austin snorted. “The Bear Run.”

“What the hell is it? Naked men racing down the trail and stampeding between the tents in the Soggy Bottom?”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be fun? Nah. It’s a huge gathering of guys who come from all over. There’s a theme night…”

“How is that different from any other weekend?”

“It’s… more. It’s like the difference between a home game and homecoming.”

“Is there a court?”