Chapter Seventeen

The shrill sound of the alarm clock pierced through the stillness of the room, causing Tank to wake with a start at the unwelcome noise. A tanned hand swooped upon the device to swat it as though silencing a buzzing fly. He felt the overwhelming urge to nestle back into the pillow, but being a naturally early riser he quickly brushed such temptations aside. The clock had been set for a reason after all – it was Monday morning, the start of what was now their last week of school for the year.

He found it more of an effort than usual to haul himself from the bed, rubbing at his eyes and grateful that his injury had healed, for the most part at least; still a little tender, but not as bad as it had been. His heart sank however when he remembered Ripp's broken wrist, and was already rehearsing the story he'd need to give inquiring minds at school on his way to the bathroom.

The grip on his razor tightened as Tank peered into the reflective glass, fighting the rising sadness as images of the night before assailed his mind's eye. This time he was alone, and felt it more than ever.

After shutting off the aggravating racket from his own alarm clock, Johnny succumbed once more to the loving embrace of sleep as he snuggled up to his partner. Just another half hour, he promised dozily as his arms encircled Ripp's body.

"Come on you two!" Tank commanded, "If I can stay outta bed after a sleepless night, so can you!"

Ripp's brow twitched into a frown as he sleepily rose, yielding to a large yawn as Tank approached the bed.

"What's that meant to mean?" he slurred, his brain struggling to blow away the cobwebs of sleep as his older brother sat on his side of the bed.

"I mean I know what you two were up to last night," Tank teased, now fully awake for now as a playful smile tugged at his lips. "Were you at it all night or somethin'?"

"Oh," Ripp smiled sheepishly, glancing at his equally uncomfortable boyfriend who gazed at Tank looking no more alert than Ripp. The youngest frowned once more as he looked up at his brother, whose words earlier now filtered into his mind.

"What's your story?" Ripp asked.

Tank smiled sadly in reply as he rose from Ripp's bedside.

"I'll tell ya later," he muttered as he left, "Better get yourselves ready."

Tank paced the front porch as he awaited an answer to his knocks, walking down the steps and idly scanning the horizon. His eyes locked onto the graveyard, a sensation of loss building inside as he now found himself pondering a possibility.

"Tank?"

He turned at the sight of his girlfriend, not hiding the despair in his face as he watched her approach. He glided his arms around her waist as she placed a greeting kiss upon his lips, but it was plain to her that all was not well with him.

"What's wrong?"

"Is Mom here?" he blurted, nodding his head in a gesturing fashion at the domestic cemetery.

Ophelia swallowed a lump in her throat as a knot formed in her stomach.

"How do you know she's dead?" she asked softly.

"Long story," Tank explained, noting the look upon her face. "She is, ain't she?"

She slowly nodded, hastily adding; "Look, I only found her after that shopping trip on Saturday, when I went to visit my own parents. Learned some things myself, and I don't just mean about your mom."

"What do you mean?" Tank quizzed, his head tilted in interest.

"That somewhere out there, I got a cousin," she explained, but left it there. It wasn't her place to disclose secrets her aunt had told her, that otherwise would most likely have been taken to her grave.

Tank's eyebrows twitched in surprise, his head cocked in intrigue.

"Male or female?"

"Male."

"Did she give a name?"

"Yeah," she frowned, "Gene Thanasia, she said." She gave a bemused shrug. "You know anyone by that name?"

His mouth now preoccupied by a large yawn, Tank could only shake his head in response. Any further questions would have to wait until he'd replenished his usually plentiful energy levels.

The teenagers boarded the bus, deciding to take the empty seats at the back. Tank drowsily rested his head on her shoulder, his eyes soon closing as he took a chance to catch up a little on some lost sleep.

"Oh dear," she muttered with a smile. Knowing he was usually so alert in the mornings, she decided to let him rest. As she stroked his head though, she began to wonder what had happened to keep him awake the night before, and whether it had anything to do with unfounded knowledge of his mother's death.

Tank's eyes opened suddenly, the jeers ringing through his mind like the bell of an angry alarm clock. Glancing upwards and finding his brother heading for the back seats, he recognised the nature of the remarks as mainly referring to the green youth following him. As Johnny bitterly dismissed them, something snapped within Tank as he dove into his school bag, beginning to scribble into the notebook he'd produced. Ophelia leant over his shoulder as he wrote, inquisitively scanning the words as they formed on the paper.

"Such hatred pervades society today, under many guises or 'phobias' but with the same misguided anger. Funny really, phobia actually means an irrational fear of something, which suggests that hatred is born of fear. Hatred in turn breeds violence, something I am only too familiar with. As my eyes rest upon my brother's injured arm I am reminded of the violence triggered by two forms of hatred, homophobia being one. Something our father had displayed time and again, that thankfully he never tried to force upon me; an unreasonable fear indeed, that I never could understand and probably never will. Sparked by the sight of two young men in love, yet, with one of them, enough to trigger a second phobia; one that had been pressed upon me with a degree of urgency, that now runs rampant through the school bus as the boys in question join our compulsory journey. One I had expressed myself without question, but now can understand no more than I could the first.

"The term is less familiar, but its existence is just as common. Xenophobia: an extreme or irrational fear of strangers, foreigners or anyone perceived as different. People like my brother's boyfriend, an old adversary of mine before I had received the proverbial slap in the face that was long overdue. Aliens were the enemy according to our father and, like the blind fool I was before, I believed him. I hated Ripp for mingling with them as much as I hated the green lad himself. Yet I also hated Dad for leading me down the lonely road that bigotry of any form paves, for what Ripp had once said is true; the world would be a dull place if we were all the same, so hating anyone different only serves to isolate you from the majority of people. It is more noticeable once you wake from the dream that we should all be alike, to the reality that we all differ in some way. I have more friends now than when I was under Dad's spell, two of them being the very people I once treated with contempt – two people who in fact are among the nicest I have ever encountered.

"Prejudice spawned of such fear is truly unfounded. They say look and you shall find; search within the fog of myth and hatred and you will uncover the hidden treasure…"

Tank trailed off as memories of his encounter with his departed mother replayed in his mind.

"It's never too late to find the buried treasure."

Tears stung his eyes at the image, and the waterfall of words that flowed so freely before now turned to ice. All he could do was stow his notebook back into his bag as he looked across at where Ripp and Johnny had taken their seats, adjacent to where he sat with Ophelia. A loving smile flickered upon his lips as he spotted them, fast asleep in each other's arms and regaining some of the energy they had frittered away the previous night.

The couple rolled their eyes as they approached their school, looking about themselves as they noticed expressions of disgust. Johnny shook his head in mild disbelief as yet more derogatory comments hung in the air, this time taking on a different nature.

"I dunno," Johnny muttered, "First 'space invaders', now it's the pride march. What's their problem anyways?!"

Ripp snorted in response, before a mischievous smile spread across his face. He nudged Johnny, arching a knowing eyebrow when his head turned to face him.

"What?"

"They want gay pride?" Ripp suggested, "Let's give it to 'em!"

With that he wrapped his arms around Johnny, who wore a sly grin of his own as he guessed at the meaning behind his words.

"Not a bad idea," Johnny replied, taking the younger boy into his arms as the pair pulled themselves closer together. Without another word they were upon one another, their mouths firmly massaging each other as their embrace tightened.

Although their initial intentions were to antagonise their tormentors, they quickly became lost in the moment as various sounds of disapproval washed over them. All that now mattered was the expression of their love, and the desire to make that known to all who cared to watch.

"Oh, that is so gross…"

Dustin Broke looked across at his girlfriend Angela, his brow twitching in puzzlement as he glanced back at the gay couple.

"What?" he quizzed, "Not like they're doing anything we haven't…"

"They're both guys!" she spluttered in reply.

"So?" he countered, gesturing about himself, "What's the big deal? They're just a couple… very much in love by the looks of it," he finished with a wistful smile.
Angela arched a disapproving eyebrow at his remark, before frowning as he beckoned her over.

"What?"

He draped an arm over her shoulder when the distance between them narrowed, gently twisting her head in their direction.

"Now, look hard," he mumbled into her ear, "And tell me what's so different about those two that makes it worse than when we do that."

Angela raised an eyebrow as she decided to humour him.

"Erm, one's a guy, and…"

"Yeah yeah," Dustin grumbled, "So imagine for a sec that Ripp's a chick."

Angela sniggered at this. Not so hard to do, she pondered with amusement as she continued to study the couple.

The more she did so, the stronger the twinge of sadness that tugged at her heart, as she began to wish she'd see even a tenth of that love displayed by her own parents. The light in which she now saw the boys changed through that alone, even when Rose had long since reverted to Ripp.

"I hate him so much," Angela confessed, a tear trickling down her cheek.

"Who, your old man?" Dustin checked, already sure of the answer.

Angela merely nodded, brushing the trail of salty water from her face as he pulled her close. Dustin pecked her crown before glancing back up at the couple in the distance, becoming alert as their lips finally parted.

"Come on you," he coaxed her, "Methinks you have some grovellin' to do."

The boys' kissing had ended for now, but still they absorbed the heat from their lover's body as they gripped each other, their noses intermittently rubbing together. Not a word was spoken by either of them, the silence broken only by their heavy breathing and the sound of Johnny's lips meeting with Ripp's forehead, yet plenty was said in their actions, even their gaze as they studied each other's features intently.

"Erm, sorry to interrupt, guys…"

"Hey Dustin," Ripp greeted with a smile, before spotting the girl by his side. His eyes instinctively narrowed on sight of her, although his expression relaxed on noticing her manner was sullen. He looked across at Dustin with a questioning air.

"Angie has something to say," Dustin continued, turning his attention to his girlfriend, "Don'tcha babes?"

Angela slowly eyed Ripp with what he saw to be genuine apology as she spoke.

"Sorry I gave you such a hard time," she said, before giving a broad shrug, "Guess it says somethin' when two guys show more love for each other than your own damn parents."

Ripp's features softened at her words, giving a sad smile as he replied.

"Hey, it's cool," he accepted, his smile taking on a different manner as he addressed Dustin, "Don't suppose you could work your magic on the other one too?"

"Oh, you mean Lilith?" he checked, before giving a snort of disapproval. "Trust the word of some street hawker dude? You gotta be kiddin' me."

"Don't have to stay that way," Ripp hinted, "You play bass or keyboard? We're still looking for people…"

"Erm, yeah," Johnny cut in, "Let's wait for your hand to get better first, huh?"

"Oh yeah, I noticed that," Angela remarked, "How'd that happen anyways?"

"Slipped off the front porch," Ripp mumbled, studying his shoes.

Johnny caught sight of his friends and gave them a wave before excusing them both, leaving Dustin and Angela watching as they made for their usual table.

"Slipped off the porch?" she repeated, "How'd he manage that?"

Dustin scoffed in reply, prompting a strange look from Angela as she glanced at him.

"Slipped my ass," he retorted, "So how'd he get those marks on his face?!"

Angela's head slowly turned towards Dustin as it registered what he was implying. He smiled sardonically as he shot her a sideways glance, watching as the male couple engaged in conversation with the other two at the table.

"Come on," he explained, "I've been on the streets long enough to know what can happen in a fight."

"You think it was his old man," she observed.

"You hear about it all the time," Dustin agreed, "Parents beatin' the crud outta their kids, an' the poor guys won't even admit it to anyone." He looked around furtively, before adding, "I didn't say that though, okay? None of our business what really happened, even with him being a bad liar. Don't wanna add to whatever shit he has already."

"Well," Angela agreed with a raised eyebrow, "Nice to know at least, we ain't the only ones with problems."