Gentle by Mark Zubro

Author:Mark Zubro [Zubro, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
Publisher: MLR Press
Published: 2016-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-one

Monday morning – first period

Five minutes into math class, Fred Caboole, the school’s dean of discipline, throws open the classroom door and rushes up to Mr. Woodward’s desk. They whisper together for a few seconds. Mr. Woodward nods over at me.

Caboole sidles over to me and says, “You’re Shane Semereau.” I don’t tell him I already know this. I’d never mouth off to an adult. Not before this weekend. “Come with me,” he commands.

So I shove my books into my backpack. All the kids and Mr. Woodward stare at me as I slink out.

Caboole marches down to the office with me scuttling after him.

Has Corey done something? Or has what happened in the library just minutes ago already become some kind of federal case? Have I done something? Or did they discover I saw the dead kid in the canal? Did they find out I was out there Sunday morning? Did my brother die, and they’re taking me home? I shake my head and try to come to my senses. I’m letting my imagination get away from me.

In the office are two uniformed officers. One’s a beautiful slim Asian guy. His uniform hugs his body in all the right places. The other is a fat white woman. Her uniform looks like blue serge plastic wrap on her folds of fat. The principal and Dean Caboole have a conference with them in the principal’s office. I can’t hear what they are saying. The principal keeps wringing his hands. Something is odd. Or he just always wrings his hands. But why should he be nervous if I’m the one being questioned?

No detectives. No summoning of my parents. They’re trying to pull a fast one? So I’m not a huge focus of something? But if I’m not important, why even bother showing up at school in the middle of the day? That last point sticks with me.

I don’t have to vow to keep silent as I’m too shy and tongue-tied. Even with my newfound dose of bravery, I’m not going to blurt something to these strangers.

But far more than any of that, I’m used to sitting quietly while an adult berates me at full throated volume. I get at least one of those every time my dad deigns to spend time with us at home. Long before I even learned to read, I was taught to sit without moving and ‘take it like a man,’ whatever the fuck that is supposed to mean. So if something nasty is coming, I know I’ll be immune to it. Their worst is not going to be worse than my dad.

We all sit in a conference room. The male police officer starts out. His voice is mellow. “We’d like to talk to you about your brother.”

“Is he okay?” I ask. That morning my mom had rushed in from the hospital. She’d managed to tell me that my brother was still in intensive care. She’d rushed out again before I’d left.

The woman cop’s voice kind of squeaks, “We have no information on your brother’s condition.

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