by Anne Harris

Antonin’s warm, quirky, criminal family are a revelation to Harry, who grew up on an isolated island with his abusive, wealthy father. Harry’s unquestioning acceptance of Antonin and his loved ones is a refreshing change from the disbelief and scorn Antonin is accustomed to from classmates. The two teenagers become friends and soon fall in love, but Harry’s father has plans to manipulate their relationship for his own gain, and Antonin’s aunt harbors a secret that may destroy them all.

This is a preview of the first seven chapters of a young adult science fiction novel I am currently marketing.

Chapter 4 — Is He or Isn’t He?

Deep in the bowels of Captain Chernobyl’s underground city, the Arctic Avenger spied on his nemesis. The evil scientist stood atop a platform that hung over a bubbling vat of goo. “Soon! Soon my day will be at hand!” he cried. “With this Plutonium Psi-Juice, my legions of slaves will conquer the world!!!”

“Not so fast, Chernobyl,” cried the Arctic Avenger, leaping from his hiding place behind a barrel of the villain’s neural neutralizer. “Your foul plan will perish here, with you, now!” He raised his hands to shoot Chernobyl with his energy blast.

Antonin sighed and sat back. It always came down to the same thing: The Arctic Avenger and Captain Chernobyl standing on the tundra, shooting at each other, the Arctic Avenger and Captain Chernobyl standing in a burnt-out cityscape, shooting at each other, the Arctic Avenger and Captain Chernobyl standing in an underground laboratory, shooting at each other. It was boring. He pursed his lips, adding a little more red to Captain Chernobyl’s force beam, racking his brain for something more dynamic, like a real comic book.

The door opened and Harry came in. Antonin looked up. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Roth’s office?”

There’d been another disturbance in Contemporary History that morning: Harry, not paying attention as usual, had built a miniature city by balancing dozens of little scraps of paper on edge. When Roth opened a window, perhaps on purpose, and a breeze scattered the fragments of Papopolis all over the room, Harry had leaped to his feet, and shouted, “Fuck!” Roth marked him down for detention.

Harry, dressed in torn jeans and a Pathetic Remains concert T-shirt, went straight to his punching bag and executed a series of side kicks, switching legs after each one. “What do you care?”

“Well, I promised your dad I’d keep you out of trouble.”

Harry switched feet, pivoted and executed a back kick that sent the bag swinging. “I haven’t been in any fights.”

Antonin shrugged. “I’m just saying, there’s more ways of getting in trouble than just fighting: truancy, bad grades. If I were you, I’d try paying attention in class. Then you wouldn’t be so bored, and you might learn something.”

Harry stopped what he was doing and turned to Antonin, an incredulous expression on his face. “Christ, what are you, a teacher?”

Anger sharpened Antonin’s tongue. “Do you want to stay here or not?”

Harry stared at him, wide eyed, and took a step toward Antonin, his arms curved out at his sides. “What’s the matter with you? Why are you getting in my face like this? Why are you even talking to me?”

Stung, Antonin blinked and sat back. What a spazz, he thought. But he had a point; why was Antonin talking to him? “Fine, forget it. Go back home. I don’t care.”

Harry straightened and lifted his upper lip in a sneer. “That’s right, you don’t, so shut up. I swear, for a little guy you sure have a big mouth. Crazy stupid too, seeing as how I could beat the crap out of you any time I feel like it.”

“But you won’t,” Antonin said, turning back to his notebook and feeling oddly cocky at being called a crazy loudmouth.

Silence behind him, and then Harry leaned over his shoulder and Antonin nearly had a heart attack. He’d gone too far, he thought in the frantic moment before Harry nodded his head at the notebook screen and said, “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Antonin told him.

“Is that a comic?”

Antonin shrugged. “Yeah.”

Harry lowered his head to stare at the screen. “‘s cool. Where’d you find it?”

Antonin set his jaw. “Nowhere. It’s mine.”

Harry straightened up. The fury of a moment ago was gone from him now and he gave Antonin a wondering look. “You mean you drew that?”

Warily, Antonin nodded.

Harry’s eyes widened and he lifted his eyebrows. “Wow.” He glanced back at the notebook. “Who’s that?” he asked, pointing at Captain Chernobyl.

Antonin told him, explaining the villain’s plan about the toxic goo.

“And there,” Harry pointed at the Arctic Avenger. “He’s going to stop him right? Try to anyway. Cool.” Harry smiled and bounced a little on the balls of his feet. “Bet he like, grabs a chain or something,” —suddenly he leapt onto the punching bag, grasping one of its chains with one hand and wrapping his legs around it— “And swings down, and knock’s Chernobyl into the goo! Ka-Pow!” Harry jumped off the bag and mimed a kick at Antonin. He paused, his foot hovering in mid-air. “But wait, that’s too soon.”

Antonin stood and turned to face him as Harry backed up and grasped the chain of the punching bag once more. “First he swings by and punches him. Fwoosh!” said Harry, and Antonin stepped closer and threw his head back as Harry faked a punch.

“And that knocks Chernobyl back,” said Antonin, cartwheeling his arms and falling backwards into his desk. “But then the villain rallies, and he shoots at the chain the Avenger is on.” Antonin crouched and extended one hand, imagining rays of green nuclear energy pulsating from his fingers. “Pchioww!”

“And that weakens one of the links of the chain and the Avenger’s, like, dangling over the vat.” Harry leapt up and grasped the top bunk and hung from it, legs kicking. He grinned. “Yeah, and it looks really bad, right? But just at the last minute, as he’s falling, he grabs onto this crossbar thing, and he flips over it—” Harry did a somersault across the floor “—and he leaps onto the platform where Chernobyl is standing. He whirls around.” He jumped up to stand a couple feet in front of him, close enough so that Antonin could feel the heat from his body and inhale the heady aroma of Dial soap. He shoved his hands forward, and Antonin’s heart thudded wildly, but Harry stopped just short of actually touching him. “And that’s when he hits him with his force beam or whatever.”

“Kazack! Right in the chest,” said Antonin, falling back against the desk and sliding down. “And the force of it sends Chernobyl over the edge of the platform and into the vat of goo. “ He waved his hands in the air and sank to the ground.

“Of course he’s not really dead,” said Harry with a wry smile. “He survives to come back at the Avenger later, only his powers are even stronger ‘cause of the goo.”

Antonin nodded, leaning back against the drawers of his desk. “Yeah, and then the Avenger is really going to be in trouble, “ said Antonin, surging to his feet and advancing on Harry with a series of fake punches, forcing him to back up. “Because now he can multiply himself, and instead of an army of mindless zombies, it’s an army of Captain Chernobyls.” He jumped from side to side, lifting his arms to menace Harry.

Laughing, Harry twisted from side to side in mock panic, his hands clapped to the sides of his face. “Oh no! What will he do?”

Antonin, intoxicated with Harry’s laughter and the smell of Dial soap, yelled, “Burn in the agony of a million exploding suns!” and body tackled Harry, grabbing him around the waist and dragging him to the floor with him.

oOo

Harry pinned Antonin’s shoulders to the floor and sat straddling him, panting from his exertions. Looking down at Antonin, his flushed face, his laughing eyes, his parted lips, he suddenly felt— He wanted to— No. Recoiling in shock and realization Harry abruptly released Antonin and stood. Antonin stared up at him, confused, obviously with no idea how close Harry had just come to— Harry’s throat closed and he turned away from Antonin’s puzzled gaze in time, he hoped, to hide his burning face and the tears that fizzled his vision as he staggered to the door.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” asked Antonin, sitting up, but Harry couldn’t answer him, so instead he left the room and ran out to his spot behind the utility yard. He sat, leaning back against the fence, staring at the ground but not seeing it. He’d wanted to kiss Antonin. He almost had, without even thinking. He was a fag.

It would come as no surprise to his dad. He was always saying shit like that about him. Harry hadn’t ever really thought about kissing or screwing or anything like that until now and so the Old Man’s comments had always seemed sort of stupid, like they couldn’t even really apply to him. But they did now, and he was right.

It wasn’t fair that something that felt as good as hovering over Antonin while he laughed and squirmed should make him that thing. That wrong thing that he didn’t want to be because it would be just one more way that his father was right about him.

Why? Why did everything have to be wrong with him? He was stupid, ugly, no one could love him, and now! Now he was a fag on top of everything else. What the hell was the point, he wondered, lifting his eyes to the sky, and not finding any answers there either.

But as he glanced down again, he did spot the school’s bell tower; twenty stories tall. A profound sense of relief washed over him. Yeah, he realized, it was obvious. Why go on being so fucked up? Why suffer? If he was lucky, maybe there was such a thing as reincarnation, and he could start over again, and maybe do better next time. If not, then at least this stupid fucked up life would be over.

Harry hadn’t even really realized he’d been walking, but he found himself at the door to the tower anyway. This was going to be easy, he thought as he climbed the stairs. Just one little step, and he’d be free. He wouldn’t have to worry anymore, about being gay, about hurting somebody or being hurt by somebody or any of it. It would all be over, just like that.

Maybe next time around he’d be a good person. Someone his parents could love, someone everyone liked, someone smart and good-looking and straight. By now he was at the top of the tower. Dead leaves curled in little piles along the base of the low wall that ran along all four sides of the tower. Brick archways on each side afforded a panoramic view of the campus. There was no actual bell, just speakers in the ceiling.

Harry’s feet scraped against dried pigeon shit as he climbed atop the wall facing the dorms. He stared down at the ground far below. A gentle breeze swept around him, soft and cool. This made sense, he told himself. This was one thing he could do right.

But what if he was wrong? What if there was no reincarnation? What if this was it? The only chance he’d ever have? A student walked by, down below, and Harry froze. The last thing he wanted was to be found up here. But the kid didn’t look up, and soon disappeared into the dorms.

It would probably hurt, he thought, but not for long. Besides, so what? What was a little pain if it brought the end of all pain forever? The breeze blew by again. Beckoning him? Asking him to stay? It was a beautiful day. The sky was blue, the trees just beginning to change colors. The air smelled like hay and wood smoke. But he had to say goodbye to all that. Right now. Here.

He was still standing on the damn ledge. What the hell was wrong with him? Couldn’t he even do this right? His death would be a relief, to himself and everyone else who knew him, what was he waiting for, a sign or something?

Well, maybe Antonin wouldn’t be relieved. Antonin seemed to like him for some reason. They were actually, like, friends, sort of. And Antonin was so smart. He drew comic books and got Harry’s dad to let him stay at school. Antonin was a fucking genius.

Why? Why did he have to take the one decent thing that had happened at this school and fuck it up like that?

Harry leaned out further over the coping, staring at the pavement that would rush up to meet him and usher him out of the world. The wind blew by again, stronger this time and he lost his balance. His heart flew into his throat and his arms cartwheeled desperately as he tried to pull himself back from the void. For a moment he teetered on the edge, seeing the ground far below, realizing he was going to die, and then he managed to regain his balance and he climbed trembling off the ledge.

Well that was just great, he thought, sitting with his back against the ledge. Obviously he was not going to kill himself. He didn’t want to die, apparently. In spite of everything, he still wanted to live.

So why not? So he was a fag, so what? He didn’t have to tell anybody, he didn’t have to do anything about it, and he could beat up anybody who suggested it. Antonin never had to know, and they could still be friends, and that was all he really wanted anyway. Antonin was going to be a great comic book artist someday, and maybe he could help him, like he had today, working out the fight scenes and stuff. Anyway, he had a friend now, that was something, and so far he hadn’t gotten kicked out of this school yet, and that was something.

So maybe it would be okay, if he could just stay out of fights, if he could just swallow this whole stupid gay thing, which the more he thought about it, probably wasn’t real at all, just something he imagined he felt, ‘cause he was whacked like that.

That breeze, that tricky breeze, blew by again, riffling his hair and somewhere in the sky a bird cried. Maybe he should take Antonin’s advice and try to pay attention in class. There didn’t seem to be much point in it, but Antonin was a genius, and it was possible that he knew something Harry didn’t. So okay. He’d try. He’d try really hard to learn something, and stay out of trouble, and he’d try not to notice how long and dark Antonin’s eyelashes were and how they cast shadows across his cheeks like dusk falling in a palm grove. Sure, no problem. Those were just feelings, and he was good at ignoring those.

oOo

 “This new issue is amazing, Antonin,” said Sari, her head bent over his printout of the Underground City episode of The Arctic Avenger. He was very proud of it. He’d used extra-glossy paper. Sari turned to the next page, the one where Arctic went swinging across the vat of goo. “Oh my god!” A deep glow of satisfaction filled Antonin as her hands tightened on the page and her eye movements became more rapid. He became aware that he was staring avidly and he forced himself to look away, out to the soccer field, where the senior girls’ league was practicing. Still he heard the sheets rustling as she turned from one page to the next.

“What’s this?” said Shawan, coming down the bleachers from where he’d been talking to Marjorie and Una Thorjkild, and leaning over Sari’s shoulder. “Oooh.”

“It’s the new issue of The Arctic Avenger,” said Antonin.

“Hey faggot, come back here!”

His heart suddenly in his mouth, Antonin turned his head to the source of the voice. It was Shane. He and Jean were chasing Ted with a basket of dirty towels from the boys locker-room. Antonin relaxed again. Poor Ted. They heaved the basket and the limp, damp towels took off like a flock of extremely untalented geese. Several of them wrapped themselves about Ted as they made their descent. Marcus and Shane ducked back into the locker-room, laughing.

Antonin restrained a smile as Ted swore, cast off the dirty towels and came stumping up the bleachers to join them. “What you got? “ he said, seeing Sari and Shawan hunched over the comic.

“It’s the new issue,” said Sari, not looking up.

Ted raised one eyebrow. “The new issue of what?”

“The Arctic Avenger,” said Shawan, also not looking up.

Ted pursed his lips and gave Antonin a skeptical look, then glanced at Sari and Shawan again and came around to stand behind them, peering over their shoulders.

“I have to admit, it’s not all me,” said Antonin, after they’d finished reading the comic and told him how dynamic it was in ways that made it clear to him that his earlier efforts had been lacking. “Harry helped me figure out all the fight scenes.”

“Well if there’s one thing that kid knows how to do, it’s kick ass,” said Shawan, nodding. “Marcus’ nose is still all like—” He pressed his own nose in and to the side. “And it was three to one.”

Antonin looked down. “I was there too.”

Shawan snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Please,” said Ted.

Antonin gave up and shrugged. “Yeah, well, you’re right about him. I’ve seen some pretty good fighters. My aunt and uncle are like—”

“Karate masters,” Sari, Ted and Shawan finished for him.

Antonin tried not to sound as pissed off as he suddenly was.  “The point is, he’s as good as anyone I’ve ever seen, in real life I mean, not counting movies.”

“So things are going okay with you two, huh?” said Shawan.

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

“So are you out to him yet?” asked Sari, handing him back his comic.

Antonin rolled his eyes. “No, and I’m not going to come out to him, so give it a rest, okay? It’s none of his business.”

“But he’s going to find out anyway,” Sari persisted. “Everyone knows. You’ve never made a secret about it before. Why all of a sudden the closet act?”

Antonin shrugged and didn’t say anything.

“Maybe he’s afraid of getting his ass kicked,” observed Ted, who then turned to Antonin. “But if Fits is so worried about getting sent home, he’s not going to hit you.”

“Besides,” said Shawan, “you’ve got nothing to worry about. That kid is gay.”

“What?” Sudden hope flared in Antonin’s chest, painfully bright. He tried to quell it. “How do you know that?”

Shawan shrugged. “He’s in my gym class. We had rope climbing today, and Beryl was wearing one of her little tennis dresses that we all love so well. Fits was her anchor. He’s right under her, holding the end of the rope, and her ass is just like, right there.” Shawan tilted his head to one side and looked up, his hands raised to cup the phantom ass of Beryl Weishopft. “All he had to do is look up to get a perfect view. Never looked up.”

“Maybe he’s just polite,” said Antonin.

Shawan shook his head firmly. “I’m telling you, he’s gay. G-A-Y.”

“Better move fast Antonin, before the Boy Beautiful Brigade snaps him up,” said Sari, nodding to the upper corner of the bleachers where Charlie Rhoades, Rick Gooley, and Kazumi Matsumori were working on posters for the Gay Straight Alliance Hayride. They all wore muscle Ts and their perfectly cut biceps gleamed in the sunlight.

“Hey, how come you never joined GSA?” asked Sari.

“Ptch. I did, my first year here. Anyone can join, but if you’re not ripped, with eight-percent body fat and a face out of a magazine ad, they’ll just ignore you. Kazumi flat out told me to forget it until I could bench press at least one-fifty.” He paused, staring at them. “I did give Gooley a hand job in the showers once, when he’d broken up with Charlie and was apparently desperate. But they got back together like the very next day, and he’s never so much as looked at me since.” Antonin sighed. “Besides, I don’t know why we need a GSA. Those groups are supposed to fight gay bashing. Bart’s doesn’t have any gay bashing. I’ve never been harassed for being gay.”

“That’s because they know it’d be instant expulsion if they did,” said Sari.

“Okay, explain something to me,” said Ted. “Antonin’s gay, he says he’s gay, everyone knows it, and they beat up on me, a straight kid, and call me ‘gay.’”

“It’s not ‘cause you’re gay,” said Shawan.

“Which I’m not,” Ted noted.

“It’s because you’re a geek.”

Ted pointed at Antonin. “But he’s a geek too!” he fairly screamed in frustration.

“True,” said Shawan.

“Hey!” said Antonin, but everyone ignored him.

Shawan went on. “But with him it’s different. They can’t pick on him, ‘cause he’s gay. The school would have a total fit.”

From over Ted’s shoulder, Antonin caught sight of a figure coming out of the athletics building. The sun glinted off his blond hair, and by the hunch of his shoulders, he knew who it was. Harry did a couple of stretches, and then started jogging around the track.

“That’s right,” said Sari. “Schools are really cracking down on gay bashing. Especially boarding schools.”

“So Antonin’s a geek with immunity,” concluded Shawan.

Ted had a kind of dazed look on his face. “I’m still confused.”

“Shh,” said Antonin, as Harry rounded the track to the side near the bleachers. “Quick, talk about something else. There he is.”

“What?” said Ted, and then, following Antonin’s gaze. “Oh.”

“Wow,” said Sari, a little breathlessly. Shawan and Ted sighed in exasperation as Sari and Antonin watched Harry run.

“He should go out for track,” said Ted.

“Or wrestling, or martial arts,” Antonin acknowledged. “I told him that just the other day, but he says he prefers ‘independent study.’”

After about twenty laps, Harry stopped, stretched again, and started heading back to the locker rooms. “Hey! Harry!” Antonin shouted, waving. “Over here!”

His head swiveled around and he stared for a moment, then shrugged and came over to stand uncertainly on the stairs next to their row. “Hey,” he said, glancing nervously at Sari, Ted and Shawan.

“Sit down,” said Shawan, scooting over to make room.

Harry sat, and Antonin made introductions, during which Harry nodded with a puzzled, tense expression. Then Sari said, “Excellent work on the comic book, by the way.”

Harry’s eyes widened in confusion.

“Antonin says you helped him with the fight scenes? They’re great. Way better than what he used to do.”

“Oh.” Harry’s voice was soft with surprise. He seemed to find something funny about her statement, and he laughed, scratching his nose. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” said Ted, “that part where he does that flip in mid-air and lands on the platform is awesome. Reminded me of the splash page for Cowboys Courageous #93.”

Harry jerked his head back a little, stunned. A quarter-sized red dot appeared on each of his cheeks. He shrugged and looked down. “Antonin drew it,” he said, waving a hand at his roommate.

Antonin nodded, his wounded pride easing a little. “Yeah, let’s not forget the artist here.”

“Well you two should keep working together,” said Sari.

“Yeah, when’s the next issue coming out?” asked Shawan.

“I don’t know,” said Antonin. “We have to figure out what happens next.”

“Well, speaking of fight scenes,” said Ted. “Harry, I’d just like to say, on behalf of all the geeks at St. Bart’s, thank you for busting Marcus’ nose. He so had that coming.”

Harry nodded. “He’s a wad. Shane and that other kid — Jean? — too.” He paused, wrinkling his brow. “I saw them hassling you in the locker room today. That happen a lot?”

Ted slumped back. “Only on, like, a daily basis. In fact,” he glanced at his watch. “In about ten minutes I have Biology and that means I have to walk past the girls’ john on the second floor and what do you want to bet one of them will be on post to shove me in there.”

“And you say you never get to meet any girls,” said Sari.

Ted tilted his head back and forth, “Ha, ha, ha.”

“Well,” said Harry thoughtfully, “I have General Science next. If you want, I can walk with you. I can’t get into any fights,” he said it almost apologetically, “But I bet they’ll leave you alone if they see me with you.”

It was Ted’s turn to look stunned. “Yeah, thanks,” he managed.

As Sari and Shawan exchanged glances, Antonin felt a pang of jealousy. Suddenly he wanted to be picked on more, so Harry could walk him to class. He was being asinine. He searched Harry’s face. Was what Shawan said true? Was Harry gay and he liked Ted of all people? That would be so ironically cruel of the universe that he could almost believe it. But something about the calm, satisfied look on Harry’s face made him think, no, he just wants to help someone. After all, he remembered, suddenly feeling unworthy to breath the same air as his friends, Harry had risked a lot more to protect him, and for even less reason.