He awoke trying to clutch at misty faces but it was merely the gloom of the morning. Tork kept saying it would soon be spring, but Kaz shivered from the minute he left his bed to the time he was taken by the cider.
That morning, there was something missing from his head. A series of pokes found no new injuries; still, he cautiously opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was the beautiful pile of stuff reaching towards the ceiling, and then he realised the absence was due to a lack of the cider last night. There was no pain or fuzzing. The second thing he saw were his lists, where he’d begun making programmes for Zack and the other runners.
They needed him.
All this goodness was too much to bear, so he closed his eyes for a few seconds and waited before opening them to check he was not still in some deep sleep. “Wow,” he murmured, which was his favourite word this week.
“Kaz? You up yet?” The knocking had become part of his day, but for the first time he appreciated Tork being here again.
“Coming, Tork! I’m awake and feeling good.”
He pulled open the door and beamed. Tork narrowed his eyes. “No vomit on the hair today? Show me where I have to clean up.”
“No vomit anywhere today.” He couldn’t help the pride in his voice, though it was hardly anything to be proud of. Tork leaned forward slightly and sniffed him like a dog.
“You don’t stink of booze, either.” He sounded worried rather than pleased. “You didn’t take drugs instead, did you?” Then he noticed the new piles. “You’ve been busy.” He raised his eyebrows.
Kaz couldn’t think what he should say, so he beamed again. “I’ve almost finished your programmes. I’m very sorry if I upset Adam last night.”
“Nah, he’s a bit…territorial, that’s all. I’m sorry for his rudeness.” Tork rolled his eyes. “But you made a big impression on Zack! He’s already sent Adam three texts reminding you to meet him later.” Shivers went across Kaz’s neck as Tork regarded him curiously. “So no cider last night?”
Kaz shook his head firmly. “No, I’ve stopped drinking now.”
“You always say that.”
“But today I mean it, for sure. I won’t drink and Zack won’t eat rubbish. We have a pact.” A tingle of pride went across Kaz’s neckline and down his back.
We.
“Do you? Oh that’s good, Kaz. Zack’s a lovely guy, very kind and gentle. Adam says when he cooks at the shelter he always brings loads of cakes to give out free.” Tork bit his lip. “You won’t…I mean…” He gulped. “I don’t mean any offence, but please don’t start him drinking, will you?”
The shame hit Kaz like a slap. His cheeks flooded. “No,” he said, and looked away. The pile seemed to diminish.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. Zack—he’s always getting hurt. People take advantage of his trusting nature. Adam says he wears his heart on his sleeve.”
“Poor Zack. I would never do that.”
“No. You’re a good guy. I’m going to tell Lisa you’re hangover free, then I’d better get to college. I stayed at Adam’s last night.”
Kaz realised Tork had come back all the way across town for the wake-up call. “Yes, I noticed your room was quiet.” He thought of the way Adam moaned and screamed, and blushed again. “I didn’t mean quiet. Only that I noticed you weren’t in…you and Adam. I sometimes hear you—” He stopped, horrified at himself. “Talking.”
Tork grinned. “Yeah, sorry about that, I can’t take him anywhere. I’m very glad you moved into this room, because the guy before was a homophobic arsehole who used to bang on the wall and shout ‘fucking queers’. But Lisa got rid of him.”
“How long have you been…together?” Kaz asked nervously. He’d never get used to this. He should shut the fuck up right now and put a lid on the ravenous appetite he had for knowledge about relationships.
And sex.
“Oh, more than a year. We had a rocky start, but in the end I dazzled him with origami.” Tork laughed. “He won’t admit it, but this sponsored run means the world to him. Adam puts in more hours at the shelter than anyone else.”
“What’s it like?” Kaz clapped a hand over his mouth to stop anything more coming out.
Tork put his head on one side then sat on the bed next to him. “Being in love?”
Kaz nodded, and managed not to ask about the sex.
“At first, it’s irritating and confusing, but then it’s the best thing ever.” He stared at Kaz for a while like he was working out a puzzle. “But hopefully, you’ll find out for yourself one day. Maybe one day soon. What are you up to today?”
“I have the programmes to work on, and I’ll go to the job centre later. Tork? What does the word scum mean?”
Tork looked worried. “It’s the waste that gathers in rivers or water.” He rubbed his eyes. “People use it as an insult. Once, when I was homeless, someone shouted it when I was asleep in a shop doorway.” He shuddered. “Why?”
“I heard it on TV, that’s all. Would you do something for me?”
“Yeah, anything.”
“Would you text Zack, and let him know I’m sticking to our pact and I hope he is, too?” He paused and blushed. “Tell him, I know he can do it.”
Tork’s eyes went wide. He grinned. “Sure I will. Go and do your programmes in the library near the job centre—much nicer than staying in here. I used to go there a lot. If you sit on the third floor, there’s a window that looks out over the shelter. Zack is there today, you might see him.” He winked at Kaz as he left. “That’s where I used to spy on Adam.”
***
He walked up and down the street four times, looking from side to side to check no-one was watching. Wheelie bins lined the pavements, like treasure caskets from a child’s book, begging him to look inside.
He shouldn’t be doing this.
He ought to be placing his hand on the door to the job centre, pushing it like he deserved a job, and strolling in to print employment lists. But after his last visit, a gang of kids hanging around outside shouted words he didn’t understand, yet still they hurt. Words like ‘scum’. He’d carried on, smiling politely, then hurried off with shaking hands that reached for the cider.
What he ought to be was an asset and a team played—or was it player? He needed to accept the difficulties and do it anyway, if he was ever to find a future. Or, at least, that was what Luca had said—something like that. Kaz had to take his destiny in both hands, and stop feeling sorry for himself.
All he needed was the baby buggy parked against a row of bins.
It might be broken, but he could fix many things. It might have missing wheels and lost screws, but it was screaming to be rescued. It was red, with a folded hood and transparent cover rolled up on top. So much precious! A buggy such as this could give protection against wind, rain and strong sunshine. Any baby would be grateful to sit, instead of persevering through weeks of being carried.
Kaz absently rubbed his arms. It had been so long, but still he missed the weight of the baby resting on his shoulder.
Slowly, he walked back to make sure the buggy was rubbish and not merely waiting for an owner. Would anyone throw this out? But there it was, a little square of paper: ‘please take with bin’. And next to the wheels were three plastic toys, also abandoned by children who had plenty more.
It wasn’t stealing, because they didn’t want it and he did. He wanted with a force that could easily bring him to the pavement on his knees as he puked with rage.
For a while, he leaned against a lamppost with eyes screwed up tight. Once the image of the baby was gone, he set off.
Inside he was cringing, but on the outside he was all smiles. Kaz casually threw the toys in the buggy, grabbed the handlebars and pushed away down the street towards Citywise.
“Cool as a cucumber,” he said, remembering Tork explaining what this meant. With every turn of the wheels he breathed fiercely, but there were no shouts that day.
“Oh, yikes,” he said shakily.
Getting this find into Citywise would require planning and access to the toilet window, but it would be worth any punishment. Bending over, he wheeled past the reception building over to the toilet block nearest his room. Sliding the items through the window was a risk. If there was anyone in the toilets, he’d be seen.
He snapped the buggy up tight and then poked it through the tiny window before he could change his mind. It clanked on the other side, but thankfully, the block appeared to be empty. He threw the toys through, then sprinted back to reception to sign in.
No letters, but now he had a buggy.
“Please wait right there,” he said quietly, looking back towards the toilets.
Amazingly, he got the goods to his room without detection, though it probably took years off his life. He slid to the floor with sweat pouring down his cheeks and lungs ready to explode. “I did it,” he said shakily to the waiting piles.
The toys were dusty, but once he’d scrubbed them in bleach, they looked bright and fun.
“No mud here,” he whispered tenderly. “All clean and nice.”
For a while, he was content to hold them to his chest and face, but when tears started rolling over the smiling face of a doll, he stopped and hid against his knees to sounds of waves and screams that went on and on…
The toy pile began with the buggy on the bottom, and the doll strapped inside so they could be easily played with. The other toys—a shape sorter and a drum with no sticks—went alongside. All that pleasure and squealing waiting in his room for when the time was right. Not yet finished—because the pile was only small—but at least he’d started. Coach always said ‘You’ll never finish until you start.’
The effort of getting the buggy inside and beginning the new pile had made his legs wobbly, but it was almost time to meet Zack. Until he’d spotted that buggy, he hadn’t realised he needed one. Now it sat there, he was happy at this accomplishment.
A quick look at the mirror and a brush of his teeth, and he was ready to leave his room, which was beginning to feel like a home.
“Won’t be long,” he told the piles.
Lisa looked at him warily as he signed out at reception. “Good afternoon, Lisa! I’m off to meet a friend.” He automatically glanced at the rows of shelves for letters.
“He’s not called bargain cider, is he?”
“No,” he said, surprised. “His name is Zack, and he is one of Tork’s runners, one of my team.” His team. “He is my friend.”
“Oh, sorry, just a joke. I hear you went to bed last night sober. Well done, love. Keep it up.” She smiled, so he beamed back.
***
The bench at the crossroads was almost always empty of people, but rich with other things—the views of the mosque, tall roof spire of the church and the synagogue. Whilst sitting looking at this sight, Kaz tried to review his options, but thinking like this usually ended in the cider. No real answer at all for the questions of the crossroads, but the only one he could find.
In lots of ways, what he intended that day was much worse, because he was meeting a boy. Although it was simply a talk about running and training, it should be obvious to anyone that chatting to a boy was how it began. Of course, the start was already in motion—perhaps had been since the unfortunate day he was born.
“You’re here!” Zack appeared and sat heavily on the bench, smelling of the forests at dawn. He was dressed in joggers and t-shirt for running. Kaz’s heart beat and beat that this boy was here to meet him. “Here, I’ve got you a prezzie. It’s not much.” He held out a blue box.
Kaz was too surprised to say anything, so he beamed. Above Zack’s head, he could still see the rooftops merging with the sky and the sunshine, but not as clearly as the box.
“Go on, have a look inside. I hope you like them.”
Kaz carefully opened the box. As he did so, a smell like childhood and home wafted out. For a few seconds, all he saw was his mother. He blinked rapidly.
“Are you OK with nuts? These are made with almonds mainly, but also pistachio. Try one.” Zack’s mouth curled. “I mean, I know I have to cut back, but you don’t. I can eat through you.” His laugh almost finished Kaz, so he concentrated on keeping his smile.
“They’re beautiful.” He stared into the box with pin pricks darting up his back like tickles. “I love nuts.” He hugged the box. “So beautiful.”
There were no words, only the pin pricks and a crashing in his ears.
“Oh, it’s nothing much.” Zack shifted nearer. “Go on.” He nodded and looked so kind, as if he understood. Kaz gently selected a square and brought it up to his mouth, almost afraid of tasting because then it would be gone and he’d have to speak.
“It’s delicious. Thank you so much.” It dissolved on this tongue, rich and smooth. It was the best thing he’d eaten since leaving home. It was the best thing he’d ever eaten. “Thank you.”
“Oh, you’re welcome!” Zack giggled as two dimples appeared on his cheeks. “Mostly people don’t bother saying thank you. How are you doing today?”
Kaz knew he was blushing, and so was Zack.
“I’ve just eaten the finest cakes ever made,” he said seriously, wanting to see those dimples again then jump right into the blue box to inhale the smell. “I’m honoured.”
Zack giggled. “My mum says they’re too heavy, but they’re my favourite too. I’m not very good at anything, but I can make cakes. I’m awful on computers, too.” He giggled again.
“What are they called?” That Zack should be so lacking in confidence made Kaz’s stomach churn uncomfortably. Coach would’ve known how to make him so proud of these cakes he’d be selling them all over the city by now.
Zack considered, with one side of his mouth curled up. “They’re my own recipe for brownies.”
“They need a name. When you have your own business, each cake needs a name so people remember what to ask for next time.”
Zack’s eyes opened wide. “That’s a great idea. What shall we call them?” He had a way of looking right into Kaz’s eyes like there was no watching world. “What did you think of when you ate?”
“I thought only of now—of the moment. My tongue did the thinking.”
“I like that. I’ll call them ‘Now: a treat to take people away from their day’. We all need that, right? This world can be so shitty.”
“Yes.”
“Come on, then. Let’s look at my programme. I’m dying to get started. For once in my life, I’m going to succeed and not cheat.”
“I’ve written a day-by-day plan, so you can’t get confused. Tork says the team can only meet a few times a week, so the other days you can either train alone, or—”
“Could you help me with it?”
“Yes,” Kaz said immediately, and made a point of blocking out the rooftops with the thud of his heart and the smell of the square cakes.
“When shall we start?”
“Now,” said Kaz. “Let’s start now.”
“Really?” Zack’s blue eyes lit up, and Kaz knew he’d train constantly to see that.
They went to the nearby park and began stretching. Zack joined in enthusiastically, his t-shirt riding up to reveal a soft plump stomach with dark hairs and a belly button Kaz couldn’t help staring at.
“Good work!” he said. “You’re a very fast learner.” All the time his eyes were pulled back to Zack’s stomach. Of course he’d seen boys naked many times in the changing rooms and showers back at home, boys of all shapes and sizes. Seen them from the corners of his eyes but never long enough.
A few weeks ago, he’d caught sight of Adam with his arms around Tork’s waist in the corridor. His blond head was nestling into the green neck as one hand stroked beneath Tork’s clothes. Tork’s slim body was revealed as he reached up, arching his back with his stomach sticking out as if to ask for more. He was giggling, trying to get his key in the lock at the same time as kiss Adam back. Finally, the door had swung open, but by then, Tork had both arms up around Adam’s head, his body pulled taut and beautiful as Adam caressed him with smooth circles. His trousers were pushed halfway down his hips. Tork moaned low, and then Adam’s hand slipped inside his trousers and they fell through the door.
For a while, Kaz had remained in his room with the door slightly ajar, unable to leave the noises, then he’d gone for an extra-hard run which ended with him sitting on the bench with the cider.
Boys had stomachs and arms. They weren’t unusual body parts associated with anything bad, but seeing hands and arms against stomachs made Kaz feel like getting down on all fours and panting like a dog.
Zack was large and hairy—nothing like the physique-obsessed boys Kaz had trained with. He’d always been drawn to bigger men with swelling arms and round stomachs—real men who didn’t waste time comparing protein shake flavours.
Kissable.
He thought of running his hands over that ample, shapely body.
“Beautiful,” he said huskily to a surprised Zack. “The way you put all your effort in is beautiful.” Zack was red-faced, but still he did the star jumps enthusiastically—with his t-shirt riding right up to his chest.
They ran slowly around the park together, often having to stop for rests. It was the best time in that country yet, because of the way Zack laughed and talked, and because of the together.
“Oh my god! My mum’s never gonna believe I did this again tonight. … How much weight do you think I’ve already lost? … You’ve got very long legs, Kaz. … What kind of cooking do you like? … What’s your ideal job?” Any decent coach would stop him trying to talk the same time as run, but instead, Kaz soaked up the exclamations because he was dying of thirst.
Finally they stopped next to the car park with Zack’s car.
“I’m so hot, I’m gonna just change this. There’s no-one about,” Zack said, and peeled off his t-shirt right there in the park. Kaz clamped shut his mouth, but no amount of trying could get him to look away. Underneath Zack’s arms were hairy pits, then as he swung about, he was all swaying and curves. He had gentle breasts ringed with hair and chubby arms with bracelets. A painful jolt went through Kaz’s chest then right down to the bad places.
“I’m going to ache so much tomorrow,” Zack said and rolled his shoulders about. His stomach and chest wobbled, and Kaz’s heart raced so fast he thought he might have to sit down. “Say goodbye to this gut.” He stroked it ruefully, his hands making circles around his stomach and chest. “And my moobs.”
Away in the distance, the tall church spire poked through the trees, and Kaz knew if he turned around, he’d also see the mosque and the synagogue.
But instead, he looked at Zack, and saw Zack looking back.
* * * * *