The Boy Who Couldn't Fly Straight: A Gay Teen Coming of Age Paranormal Adventure about Witches, Murder, and Gay Teen Love (Book 1, The Broom Closet Stories) by Jeff Jacobson

Author:Jeff Jacobson [Jacobson, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2013-12-24T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 27

Dinner Party

GLASSES CLINKED, CANDLE FLAMES flickered, Amos sighed on the floor near the table. They sat in the dining room, all six of them. The sun had nearly set, and Randall dimmed the lights until they shone with a soft glow.

At first Charlie thought that he shouldn’t be wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. The silverware sparkled on the table, and to him the dining room looked like the kind of restaurant he had seen on TV, the kind he had never been to before. But the others were also casually dressed and seemed very relaxed with each other.

His aunt and uncle sat on either side of him. Across from him and to the left sat Daniel Burman, a thickly built quiet man with hair cut close to his scalp. He worked as a detective in the Seattle Police Department. His eyes were pale gray and seemed to bore into whatever caught their attention, including, at times, Charlie. The man appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties.

Next to Daniel sat Rita and Jeremy Lostich, a married couple in their late twenties or early thirties who owned several coffee shops around town. “Local and fair trade, of course,” said Rita, winking at him and laughing. He didn’t know what that meant but found himself smiling back at her. She had curly dark blond hair that fell halfway down her back. She smelled of spice and wore a loose sleeveless shirt. A small ring pierced her nose. She had a generous laugh.

Her husband Jeremy had a beard and shoulder-length dark hair, which he wore parted down the middle so that it hung down and over each side of his forehead like opened curtains. He had kind eyes and an easy smile. Charlie thought he could play the role of Jesus in an Easter movie.

“The Lostiches are my favorite hippy-chic couple,” Randall had told Charlie as he had made introductions.

Where the Lostiches were quick-witted and giggly, Daniel Burman remained solemn, almost brooding. Neither, however, appeared bothered by the other. Only Charlie seemed surprised by the contrast.

The guests oohed and aahed over his aunt and uncle’s cooking. The meal was halibut, steamed in a banana leaf, with rice, soy sauce, green onions, ginger, chilies, and sesame oil. They had roasted summer squash, and there were fresh greens with berry something-or-other that was tart and refreshing. (“It’s just a fancy name for a sauce, Charlie. Remember, these witches are insufferable!” Randall had teased.)

Charlie was pretty sure his aunt had informed the guests ahead of time that he was shy, because they didn’t pry him with questions. Rita told him that she had lived for several years in the Lake Tahoe area and knew the foothills quite well.

“I used to hang out in Nevada City as a teenager.”

“Yeah, N.C. is pretty cool.”

“Did you ever go to Fairplay?”

“Yeah, it’s about forty-five minutes away from Clarkston. Closer to Forkville,” Charlie said. Then he remembered the newscast he had seen with his mother and the photo of Ted Jones, the Forkville high school senior beaten and left by the roadside.

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