“You look like shit, man. Is it flu?” Adam ran a hand through his hair—the colour of sands in the sun—and squinted. “We can call it a night if you want?” He looked Kaz up and down. He smelled of expensive cologne and for a few moments, Kaz hated him. He had parents and friends—Tork—a home—a college course and a future. He didn’t have to bother cooking his friends cakes or walk thousands of miles, because everyone already loved him.
“You do look a bit peaky.” Tork moved nearer, and Kaz watched him trying not to sniff for the smell of cider on Kaz’s breath.
“What’s up, hun?” Jo put a hand on his forehead. “You’re very clammy.”
“Oh no, no. I’m really OK,” Kaz beamed his most sincere smile and out of the corner of one eye watched Zack arrive in his car. He tried to edge away from Jo without her noticing. “We can’t stop the training now.”
Adam and Tork peered. Jo took his wrist and felt for a pulse. The sky loomed above.
“Even on days when we don’t feel like it.” Adam sniffed him deeply. Kaz kept going. “The race is almost here.” He beamed again, but the sides of his mouth were slipping, giving up. “It’s all brilliant!”
But they carried on, staring and whispering.
“You on crack?” Adam said gruffly. “Heroin?” He stamped his feet. “It’s not meths, is it?”
Tork shook his head. “It’s not cider.” He put his green head to one side and sighed. “You absolutely don’t look—right. Has anything happened? Lisa told me you missed the meeting.”
“There’s Zack! You can start warming up,” Kaz told them brightly. He waved furiously, but inside was as dead as the mould on bathroom tiles. He’d woken up shouting half an hour ago and remembered the training. His room— life—was full of stuff needing to be sorted. Tearing himself away was not easy, but Zack had sent a text—then another, bombarding him like tears.
And somehow he got here. He’d clambered out the bathroom window without care, grazing his knees and landing heavily.
He hadn’t cleaned his teeth or changed his clothes. The smell of dried sweat was sharp in the air, and his jumper was still damp from throwing up.
“Hey, guys.” Zack was carrying a box of cakes and a bag of drinks. His round face, always open and kind, was smiling. “How’re you doing now?” He stopped in front of Kaz, all fresh and clean. It reminded him of back at home and how they’d dreamed about travelling and meeting people from abroad. Lots of the other kids had wanted to meet pop stars and footballers, but all Kaz had imagined was a boy very much like Zack.
“All much better, thank you.”
Zack took his hand and squeezed. Every pore in Kaz’s body screamed with stench and his face went warm from shame.
He had no right to be standing here with this boy when for months on end he hadn’t been able to find a proper toilet or washing water. He was putrid and vile with dirt he could never clean.
“We can talk after training,” Zack whispered.
Kaz didn’t mean to look up. Because he’d run the risk of Zack moving nearer and smelling exactly how bad and despicable the foulness went.
But he was weak, and looked up straight into Zack’s blue eyes. Zack must’ve smelled the pitiable mess, yet he didn’t step backwards. His eyes crinkled and to Kaz’s horror, he brought his face close to whisper. “I’ve made you a special cake.” Then he kissed his ear.
Warm breath hit Kaz like a bath—like bed—like the changing rooms at home after a hard run. A shudder went through his body. For so long, he’d known for sure that it should have been him who didn’t make it in the waves and the only thing that got him up the beach and on, and on, was guilt that dripped the darkness into his core.
Undeserving.
But still his head moved into that kiss the same no-regrets way he’d got into Coach’s car at night to chat. He didn’t deserve this, but he couldn’t help himself. “Thank you,” he whispered back. “Thank you.” He closed his eyes for a few seconds to gather strength. He was here in this field with his running team, a long way from the sea, his country and Coach.
Tork and Adam were talking loudly about their college courses, not looking at Kaz and Zack, but Adam was trying not to laugh and Tork kept glancing over. Jo had her arms crossed.
“OK, let’s get going. Show over,” Kaz said firmly as Zack gave his hand a last lingering squeeze.
“Lovers’ tiff?” Adam asked, grinning. Kaz ignored him and gave out instructions.
“We have hardly any sessions left, so we have to make it count.” Coach was always there, waving both arms—jumping up and down. “I’ll be standing at the end, cheering you on, of course. If you have nothing left, only look at me.”
“When do we go round the actual course?” Zack was beginning to warm up with Tork and Adam, his feathered hair blowing about in the breeze.
“Now. You have the baton, Adam?”
“You mean the one in my shorts?”
Kaz ignored him.
“Tonight, we practise what it feels like to hold. Baton, Adam?”
“Yup. I’ve got a huge baton and how about we all wear black?”
“The race is in two days’ time,” he told them. “Tonight, we practise for real. We run the route and we use the baton. Remember what you’ve learnt and don’t set off too fast.”
“So, it’s two times round the park?” Adam was biting his lip and fidgeting. “I wish I’d never volunteered for this.”
Tork kissed him and murmured in his ear.
“It’ll be fine, Adam,” Jo said. “Stop worrying. If we get through—great. If we don’t, at least we tried. What’re you so worried about?”
Adam shrugged.
As Kaz gave the instructions, it didn’t sound like his voice. His body ran with them as if he looked on from above, like a ghost. He heard himself giving praise and offering advice, but he itched to be home with his piles blocking out the sun and the ceiling, covering him over and sealing it tight before he leaked right away into the ground below.
Before it was too late.
“Fantastic!” he said as Jo finished.
“Do you think we can make the time?” Adam asked. “For reals?” He asked like he didn’t care, but suddenly Kaz saw he did.
“Oh, certainly. If you remember what I’ve told you, you stand an excellent chance. Adam, you will run first, then Zack, Tork and Jo will bring up the rear.” His voice sounded all wrong, but he was too tired to care.
“I want to do this so much,” Adam said abruptly. “A guy from the shelter collapsed today, actually passed out. I went with him to hospital, but it’s no good. Poor bastard is in such a state. I’ve known him two years—he never had a chance in life. Some people, life is not fair. I know a sponsored run isn’t much.” He stopped and turned around to hide his face. “I have to do something!”
A sound like cola fizzing began in Kaz’s head.
“Yes. See you all in two days,” he said abruptly. Dizziness and waves of yellow and black engulfed him.
“Sit down, Kaz. You’ve gone a funny colour.”
It was only as he sank onto the bench that he realised he hadn’t noticed the rooftops all evening. “The mosque—the church—the synagogue,” he explained pointing. Zack took his hand.
“Kaz, babe, you haven’t heard a word I said. Drink this water.”
He obediently drank, and the colours began to return. “Sorry,” Kaz said, stricken, and then he was back in the present sitting on the bench eating cakes.
“Eat up, that’s it,” Zack said. “I expect your blood sugars are low. You need to put some weight on your gorgeous bones.”
“You feeling better?” Adam and Jo knelt in front. Jo stroked his knee.
“Here, put this on.” Adam wrapped a coat around his shoulders. “You’re still shivering.”
“I think so. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened.” He hated himself for the weakness, but his eyes began to prick with tears. “I’m so sorry about your friend,” he told Adam. “I thought you were an arsehole, but you’re not.” He covered his face in his hands. “Sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“I am an arsehole sometimes,” Adam said miserably.
“No filters,” said Jo.
“I thought at the beginning you were helping us out to hit on Tork.”
“And I thought you were only doing this run to show off,” Kaz said. “People are so different here, I don’t always get it.” He was saying far too much, bringing attention. “So sad about that man, though.” Tragedy sinking the planet.
Men in the waves losing grip of their children.
“Yeah,” Adam said. He rubbed his eyes. “It happens all the time at the shelter. Sometimes they disappear and we know they’re not coming back. Life is so cruel.”
“They kill me, the people at the shelter,” Zack said.
“Well.” Adam sniffed into Tork’s shoulder and smiled. “If we get past the heats, I’ve raised almost three grand. Mike says they can buy computers and loads of stuff they’re desperate for.”
“We’ll do it! Even if it kills us, we’re gonna get through,” Jo said. “Three grand is not nothing!”
“I never noticed that before,” Tork said suddenly, gazing ahead at the rooftops. “You’re right—you can see all three from here.” He turned to look at Kaz appraisingly. “My dad is religious.”
Kaz thought about this, and Adam.
Boyfriends.
“I didn’t know that. How is he about Adam?” Zack asked. “And…stuff.”
Tork shrugged and shook his head. “Well, it’s all complicated, isn’t it? What to believe? I still don’t know, but one thing I’m sure about—no-one can tell you what’s right, because there aren’t any answers for people like us. When I was a teenager, I couldn’t make any of it work in my head. But now, all I need to know is me and Adam, there’s no way it’s wrong. I know it in my heart.” He elbowed Adam, who stared back like an adoring dog. “But my dad left anyway while I was in the middle of the teenage apocalypse, and things went to shit. Took me a long time to sort my head out. I’m still sorting my head out!”
“Is that when you were on the streets?” Zack carried on holding Kaz’s hand.
“Yeah. Didn’t see my dad for years. He didn’t know I was gay until I got back in touch, and by then, I was with Adam.”
“He doesn’t mind?” Zack asked quietly. Kaz tried to imagine a dad who didn’t mind.
Tork grinned. “To be honest, I didn’t give him a choice. It’s me and Adam, or it’s nothing. But I don’t think he cares. He likes Adam. Who wouldn’t?”
Jo sniggered.
“I wouldn’t go through all that trying to explain again for any money, and my family aren’t even religious,” Zack said. “Drunks, yes, but not religious.”
“The way I see it is that religion is on hold until I’m really and truly welcome through the front doors. Not tolerated or there to be cured. Until I’m ready to decide.”
“Didn’t realise you had such a bad time, Tork,” Jo said. “I thought you were a bit…alternative. Weird.”
Tork nodded. “After my mum died, I couldn’t cope with a lot of things.” He smiled sadly and nodded at Kaz. “Different things to you, though, probably.”
“Not so different,” Kaz said then held his breath. He’d started coming apart a long time ago, perhaps so long it was impossible to prove now he’d ever been whole. The running and the hard work had helped, but not as much as having Coach’s friendship, watching his grin light up as Kaz won race after race. He knew each line of Coach’s face—worshipped all the terrible jokes—but none of it was enough to stop it being revealed like light underneath blinds. He’d worn secrecy like a twin—knew how to keep his head down, not to catch another boy’s eye, never to speak of it. And still his stupid fucking eyes had betrayed him.
He blinked to stop the memory of Coach falling behind, the only time Coach fell behind.
The truck.
Headlights blinded, but as he blinked, a tear slid down his cheek, then another and he couldn’t stop. He was many miles from Coach and they’d never meet again.
And then, for a while, he lost control. Words blurted out, names of people gone in the waves and people he loved.
It might have all taken hours, or minutes, to unravel the wire that had held him together. But with each name, instead of coming undone, there was lightness like seeds in the wind.
He gripped Zack, hard. “I’m smelly and horrible,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” Zack’s hand brushed the tears from his cheeks.
“Everyone’s smelly and horrible,” he said. “Didn’t you know? We’re animals living with stupid rules we make ourselves. But deep down, we’re all the same. I stink of lasagne ’cause I’ve been making it all day. I think it’s the only food I don’t like.”
Around the backs of his friends, he could still see the rooftops but not as clearly as the hand on his knee or Zack’s chest. He burrowed in more deeply.
Adam wiped his eyes. “You guys! I’ve never heard a sadder fucking story in all my life, not even Ken the monster with his groin boils affected me that bad.” He sniffed and looked at the startled faces. “From the shelter, so we’re clear.”
Jo sniggered. “Your ex, is it?”
“You’ve got us now. You’re not alone. I don’t know how we’re going to help, but we will,” Tork said. “It’s taken months to get you to open your mouth.” He smiled. “Must be Zack’s cakes.”
“Zack’s something,” Adam said.
“Tonight, I’m meant to be giving you an inspirational talk ready for the run,” Kaz said weakly. “I’m a very poor coach.”
“Turn up, you fuckers!” Adam said. “There, I did it for you.”
“See?” Tork said. “Perfect son-in-law material. But seriously, we would never have got to this stage without you, Kaz. I couldn’t run to the takeaway when we started.”
“That is very true. You’re cool,” Adam said. “Whatever happens tomorrow, we had the best coach ever.”
“Not the best ever.”
After the others had gone, Zack stayed and talked. People with dogs and walkers went past and gradually, the colours of the world returned but there was a change in the air. Zack’s arm crept up around his shoulders, and then Kaz had his hand on Zack’s leg.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“Yes. This.” Kaz shifted on the bench, and maybe the planet moved, but soon their limbs were entwined and it felt right.
“It helps?”
“Yes. It helps a lot.”
* * * * *