Zach’s eyes narrowed, and his mind quickly spun back through various moments. All the while his blue eyes flickered like a camera light, right until they glinted with a satisfaction that was the visual equivalent of the soft click that came after rewinding a tape.
“At least I’m not afraid of a piece of cement.”
Gentry spun around, “I wouldn’t have touched it if it weren’t for you. You’re a fucking bull in a china store.”
“Yeah, but at least I’m not bull-shit. I might crash into people and into walls, but you meander around everything.” Zach pulled himself up and taunted, “In fact, you don’t just avoid people when you walk, you avoid them in general. And you think you’re so smart about it, but in the end you’re the one without any REAL friends!”
“You don’t have any friends.”
“Oh, what, the GSA?” Gentry scoffed, “With friends like that, you don’t need enemies.”
“How would you know? You’ve never been there.”
“Because I don’t need a bunch of faggots telling me that being gay was a gift from Jesus, just like the freckles on my ass were angel kisses. The GSA here is full of rumor-happy twinks who have nothing better to do than make themselves important. They claim that they are against prejudice, yet they have dirt on everyone.”
“So do you. You’re the most opinionated, judgmental person I ever met. The only reason people tolerate you is because you never talk!”
“Because it’s pointless to talk to idiots, a fact that you should picked up!”
“At least I don’t hide what I think.”
“At least I think before talking.”
“I don’t need to think before talking because I’m not using them to get ahead. I like to have honest relationships--- at least my friends know and appreciate the real me.”
“Bullshit. The only reason Casey keeps you around is because you’re a hot gossip item! You know what he thinks of you? He thinks you’re a nigger. You might be a fag but to them you’ll always be the nigger, no matter how many rainbow bracelets you wear.”
Zach bit his lip, then fired back, “At least they’re not a bunch of chest-thumping homophobic machos. That’s what you consider ‘friends’ to be like.”
“They’re not my friends.” Shot Gentry, “They’re my team. And frankly, to be in a team, you have to put up with people you don’t like.”
“And lose your personality in the process? Great, Gentry, just great.”
“I didn’t lose anything. They don’t mean anything to me.”
“Yeah, a lot of things don’t mean anything to you.”
Gentry fell silent. The rain tipped and tapped on the ground, raindrops splattering to watery pieces as they hit the cement. The wind howled through the bare birch trees, breaking the rain against the branches.
“What time is it?” he finally asked.
Zach pulled up his drenched sleeve, and murmured, “7:50.” He looked up again, and noticed Gentry looked paler than usual, and his eyes were unnaturally dark against his skin.
“Are you sick?”
“The only thing I’m sick off is you.” Gentry turned to leave, “Just fuck off.”
“Don’t tell me to fuck off. If at all, you should fuck off--- you have some nerve shitting on me, someone who was dumb enough to care for you.”
Gentry was silent for a while, then callously replied, “I have nerve. You’ve got that right. So why are you still talking to me? Are you a maschochist? I mean it. Go away.”