Art Imitates Life Imitates Art

 

"Ok, you wild little scallywags, settle down so I can take roll. We have to make sure everyone's name is correct in the paperwork."

"Papa, really?" Jordan blushed as many in the class giggled.

"You go right ahead, Mr. Lindell," Denny called out.  "You know he wants to hear you call it out as much as you do."

"Denn, you're supposed to be on my side," Jordan blushed more and squirmed. 

"Well, maybe I want to hear it too," Denny grinned.  "I'm just as excited as you guys about this.  Well, almost.  I don't think it can ever mean to me what it does to you, Jordy."

The giggles in class had stopped at this point.  Being a small town, everyone had heard, if not the vivid details that had been revealed in the closed courtroom, then, well, rumors were a thing.  All of the students now understood that Jordan and his father had been horribly abused by Jordan's mother, ending when she deliberately ran her husband over in their own driveway with her car, repeatedly.  They all knew that she would never see freedom again, spending the rest of her life in a mental hospital for criminally insane people.  Rumors didn't get all the facts, though.  They never do.  So, when Mr. Lindell did not call out Jordan Barlow, the class was confused.  Their confusion was compounded by the fact that Dennis Howitz clearly knew what was going on.  How would the star of the football team know anything about a scrawny little freshman?  Then Mr. Lindell called out a new name, and things happened.

"Jordan Barlow Wallace-Lindell."

"I'm right here, Papa," Jordan squeaked out as he started sobbing.  Mr. Lindell and Denny Howitz both rushed across the room and hugged the small teen as he wept and so did they.

"Wait, what did we just miss without missing it?" someone yelled out.

"I got this, I got this," another voice announced.  "We all know about Jordan and his parents.  Mr. Lindell adopted him, and Denny's mom was the social worker, so he knew about it."

"Not quite," Denny corrected as he stood up and faced the class.  He was still holding Jordan's hand though.  "I was going to do this in the gym for the football team first, but I don't want to wait until the end of the day."

"Dennis, are you sure?" Mr. Lindell asked quickly.

"I am absolutely sure," Dennis announced firmly.  "Ok, so you got parts of it right, Jenny.  Mr. Lindell did adopt Jordan.  My mom is not his social worker, though.  Actually, Hannah, your dad is Jordy's case worker."

"Are you allowed to tell me that?" Hannah asked back.   "Every time I ask about his work, I get lectures about privacy and HIPA and sh…stuff."

"Yeah, this time it's ok to tell," Dennis confirmed.  "Also, the reason, I know about all of this is because… well…  Jordy is my boyfriend."

"Oh, thank God," Jenny yelled.  "I've been flirting with you for two years.  I thought I was doing it wrong or something.  I just have the wrong equipment," the girl said melodramatically, getting laughs from the whole room.

"Wait, so you're saying you're gay?" one of the other football players in the room blurted.

"Yeah, Moose, that's what I'm saying," Dennis nodded.  "I was going to tell the team this afternoon when I quit."

"When you WHAT?" Moose bellowed.  "OH HELL NO!  Howitzer Howitz is not quitting when we've got our best chance at the state championship in thirty years.  We need you, man."

"While I appreciate your support of Dennis, Jasper, I have to point out that some of the other students on the team may feel very differently," Mr. Lindell called out.  "Oh, and detention this afternoon for the language."

"Aww come on, Mr. L.," the largest football player on the team whined.  "All I said was hell.  It's not like I said fuck or something."

"Jasper," Mr. Lindell said in a whine of his own.  "I was just going to keep you for five minutes and let you get to practice, but now I actually do have to give you detention."

"Man, fu… the he… umm never mind the detention," Moose stammered correcting himself as he spoke.  "I know there's jokes that I am the whole defensive line by myself, but I can't carry the entire team.  Detention the big dummy here so he can't quit."

"You really don't care that I'm gay?" Dennis asked as Moose walked to the side of the room where Dennis and Jordan were still holding hands.   "You're not going to freak over me perving on you in the showers or some shi… stuff?"

"No offense intended to the little star of the art room here," Moose said as he pointed to Jordan, "but I think it's pretty obvious that I'm not your type."  He waved a hand up and down gesturing to Jordan's whole body. "I don't think if this is what you go for that you were looking at my beefy butt."

"No, you're right, never interested in you, Moose, as anything other than my best friend," Dennis smiled and fist bumped the other teen.

"We cool, man," Moose smiled.  He looked down at Jordan then and added, "Anybody mess with you and this guy ain't around, you give a holler for Moose.  I'll mow them down just like I do on the football field."

"Thanks, Moose," Jordan squeaked and blushed.

"Not that I want anything to happen like that," Mr. Lindell began quietly, "but, if it does, you send for me or Mrs. Wallace before any other faculty member.  Understood?"

"Gotcha, Mr. L," Moose agreed with a grin.  "You can cuddle the kid, and Mrs. Wallace will turn that snake of hers loose on the bad guys."

"Oh, she'd definitely feed them to Beauty in tiny pieces, but I bet she'd make them suffer first," Jordan laughed.

"Jordan, I am noticing an increasingly alarming trend in your personality that I am entirely blaming on your grandmother," Mr. Lindell said, but he was smiling so he wasn't too serious about it.

"We do watch a lot of scary horror movies together," Jordan confessed.  "We saw this one the other night, it was really old and called Demon Seed or something like that."

Mr. Lindell made a noise he would never admit to and clapped a hand over his son's mouth.  "She told you to bring that one up, didn't she?"  At the muffled giggle and nod, he continued by saying.  "I will get that witch back for this… somehow.  I think your weekend at your grandparents house just got cancelled this week, son."

"Are you sure about that, Papa?" Jordan asked leadingly.  "Isn't this weekend your anniversary?"

"That snake of a woman," Mr. Lindell growled.  "Fine, you and your bad influence of a grandmother are grounded next weekend, then."

"Yeah, that would be the weekend Jordy is staying at my place, because she has a science teachers convention or something in the state capital and you have that art show," Dennis pointed out.

"Oh, come on, can't I at least have my son's boyfriend on my side?" Mr. Lindell whined dramatically.  He turned to face the class and announced.  "Children, do not grow up thinking you will have control over your lives when you are adults.  It's all an illusion.  Now, everyone, get your paints for working on our projects for the day.  Except you, Jasper," he added pointing at Moose.

"What the fuck did I do?" Moose blurted.

"That's what you did, and now you get to go tell your coach that you will miss practice for detention," Mr. Lindell laughed and then he gasped.  "Too much negative language. We must cleanse.  Grab your paints and your canvases, everyone.  We must paint away the evil influences of science and horror movies and bad words.  Daisies, we must all paint daisies… and… yes, daisies and little bunnies."

"That's my Papa," Jordan giggled as he walked over and got his canvas that held a new portrait of Beauty the Rat Snake. 

By that afternoon, two players had quit the football team before practice even started, but it was not Moose and Howitzer.  In fact, the two that left were without doubt the weakest players on the team.  So, when Moose and Dennis got to the locker room, the coach and the rest of the team were waiting for them.

"Howitzer, I am being told that I have you to thank for two fine upstanding Baptist boys storming off this team today," Coach Spencer growled out.

"I wouldn't have any idea about that, Coach," Dennis answered honestly.  "I can leave if you want them back, though."

"Don't be a damn fool, boy," the coach snarled.  "I'm trying to thank you for getting rid of the riffraff that I wasn't allowed to kick off the team no matter how pathetic they were.  I hear you got a boyfriend, now.  I'm telling you the same thing I tell any other player on my squad.  Do not let your little head mess up your game, or your life.  Be safe about what you do and who you do it with, especially since your boyfriend is the grandson of Tabitha Wallace.  Never, and I mean never, ever get on that woman's bad side.  Now let's get to practice."  The man left the locker room, and the teens were silent for a moment before Dennis himself broke the quiet.

"I know Mrs. Wallace is a tough teacher, but I'm starting to think she's some kind of monster or something," Dennis joked as he started changing for practice.

"Dude, you watched Breaking Bad, didn't you?  Don't mess with a science teacher," one of the other boys called out.  "Oh, and my cousin Vince is going to be so pissed at me because of you now. Thanks a lot."

"I met your cousin Vince one time, Jazz," Dennis answered.  "How could he be mad about me?"

"Because he's gay and thought you were cute, and I told him he didn't have a chance," came the reply.

"Yeah, well you tell him that you weren't wrong," Dennis laughed.  "He never had a chance."

"Wait, he didn't?  Why not?  Vince is cool," Jazz demanded and defended.

"Yeah, but he's related to you," Dennis retorted.  "At some point I would have woken up and asked what I had been drinking."  After all the jeers and laughter calmed down, Dennis walked over closer to the other boy and made a friendly fist bump to his shoulder.  "Seriously, tell Vince that I'm flattered, but, yeah, he ain't my type.  Plus, he's like a senior in college, I would be jail bait for him, and he's a geezer to me."

"Yeah, sounds like you and Vince are the same type and have the same type," the smaller of the two teens laughed.  "He likes the younger… I think he called them zingers."

"He probably said twinks," Dennis corrected.

"Yeah, that's it," Jazz grinned.  "I knew it was some snack food with…."  He was quiet for a second and then his face started to look a little green.  "Dennis, as your friend, I am begging you to NEVER explain that reference to me any further.  I do NOT want to know."

"Yeah, well now you know how I feel about you guys talking about the chicks you banged on the weekend," Dennis pointed out.  "If I ever need a pussy in my life, Jordy and I will get a cat."

"Ok, dude, you stick to your sausage and buns and leave the tacos for the rest of us," came the response.

"Oh, that's just wrong," Dennis exclaimed.  "I can never eat Taco Bell again.  That's just gross."

"Did you boys already forget about football?" the coach yelled as he stomped into the locker room again.  "Should we cancel practice and sit around gossiping the rest of the day?"

"We could do that?" Moose asked excitedly.  "Because I heard that Miranda…."

"MOOSE!" the coach screamed.  "You already have to do 20 laps around the field after practice today to make up for the detention which I assume you forgot that you were supposed to be doing with Mr. Lindell right now. Do you want me to add ten more for detention from me as well?  All of you idiots shut up and let's play ball."

"Aww shit, with all the rainbows and bibles in the air today, I forgot all about Lindell's detention," Moose whined as he walked out of the locker room headed for the football field.

"You clearly also forgot why you have it," Mr. Lindell said dryly as he stood at the door of the gym. "Will you ever tone down that language?"

"I'm trying, Mr. L, honest I am," Moose pleaded.

"Well, go run your laps and I'll watch so that I can honestly report to the principal that I supervised your detention," Mr. Lindell said. He turned to Dennis and smiled. "There's a cute little blond waiting for you by the bleachers. He was worried that the team would react badly to you coming out."

"We'll make sure he knows we're ok, Mr. L," Jazz announced. "Right guys?" he asked of the team around him.

There was a monstrous roar from the team, and they all ran out full speed toward Jordan. Mr. Lindell and the coach heard a terrified shriek followed by high pitched yelling. They ran out to the bleachers to find Jordan surrounded by cheerleaders who were all threatening the football players.

"HOW DARE YOU SCARE SWEET LITTLE JORDY!" Lesley, the captain of the cheer squad was screaming as she held Jordan as if he were a freshman sized teddy bear. "If you ever, any of you, ever want to get a date ever again in this town you will be nice to him."

"But Lessie, that's what we were trying to do," Jazz told her. "We were just running out here to tell him that we're all just fine with him and Dennis. If Howitzer wants to fire his little cannon at or in the Jordy bear, that's all good, as long as he can still fire that cannon of an arm for the team."

"Could you be any more crude?" one of the other cheerleaders sneered.

"HEY! It's not that little either, you jerk," Dennis griped.

"TMI, Howitz," the coach snarled. "Boys, on the field, now. Moose on the track for your laps. As for you, Little Lindell, I want to talk with you in the gym."

"Me?" Jordan squeaked.

"Yeah, you. Come on. I got somebody you need to meet," the coach ordered.

When Jordan got into the gym, he was led to the weight training room. There was a man waiting for them there. "This the kid?" the stranger asked.

"Jordan Lindell, meet my little brother, Jack. Jackie, this is Jordy, Terry and Micky's kid."

"Hello," Jordan whispered and gave a nervous little wave.

"Sweet screaming RuPaul's Drag Race," Jack groaned. "It's ok. I can work with this."

"Excuse me?" Jordan protested with his hands on his hips. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I leave the princess in your hands, Jacqueline," the coach snorted as he walked out of the room.

"HEY!" Jordan and Jack both protested.

"I'm a self-defense instructor, Jordan. My brother taught me to stand up for myself because when we were in school, I had crushes on all your fathers at different times. Never seriously, though. Micky and Terry both only ever had eyes for each other, and I was a year younger than them anyway.  And besides, I met someone when I got to college. He's an accountant by day and a drag queen at the clubs at night. He even changed his stage name from True Pigg to True Love after we got together. He's just Truman when he's not on stage though. Well, there was that one time he showed up at our son's school in a pink bathrobe and matching fuzzy slippers because the school called and said John had gotten into a fight. He had taken the day off from his accounting firm that day, so was just lounging comfy at home. John told me he wanted to just crawl under the school and die when he saw his papa, curlers and all, walk into the office demanding to know who hurt his baby."

"Oh jeeze, how old was he?" Jordan gasped.

"Just about a year ago, so John was… eleven at the time," Jack replied. "It was ok though, because the other kid's mom showed up in almost the same outfit three minutes later. John and Chad are best friends now. We're pretty sure they will be more than that at some point, but they're still only twelve, so time will tell."

"Yeah, thank goodness I can't imagine Daddy or Papa either one doing that to me," Jordan said with relief.

"No, what you have to worry about is Micky forgetting that you live with them and walking out for breakfast in his favorite purple thong."

"How did you know about that?" Jordan gasped as he turned red from embarrassment and green from nausea at the same time.

"My husband and I have spent the weekend with the two of them on occasion," Jack said rolling his eyes. "Between Micky's thongs scaring us half to death, and Terry's paint thinner permeating the whole place, I have made sure to not visit so long ever since."

"I kind of like the paint thinner smell," Jordan confessed.

"You've been in it too long. Wait, if you tell me that stench turns you on, I really will be very worried about you, kid," Jack retorted. "Although it would track for the son of Micky."

"Well thanks for reminding me of my daddy's kinks, but no, I meant the smell makes me feel safe. It's the smell I think of with the word home now."

"I'm not sure that doesn't make me worry about you more, but I guess I can understand that. Just open a freaking window once in a while, ok?"

Jordan laughed and agreed before asking his new self-defense instructor, "So do you teach me how to paint fences and wax cars now?"

"Do I look like a short Japanese man to you?"

"It was just a joke," Jordan defended with his hands up in surrender.

"And it's not your fault that everyone in my profession has been hit with jokes like that ever since they made those movies, so I apologize if I was too hangry in my response."

"Hangry?"

"Yeah, it's a contraction of the words hungry and angry," Jack explained. "Do they not teach vocabulary to kids anymore? Anyway, I missed lunch to get here for teaching you how to kick the ass of anybody that thinks a cute little femboy is an easy target, so let's get to work."

"Femboy?" Jordan asked in a rather offended tone.

"Sweetie, trust me, a guy married to a femboy would be the very last person on earth to insult another femboy," Jack assured him.

"But I'm not a… one of them."

"Hey, now," Jack warned. "I may be the last person to insult them, but I will also be the first to defend them, even if it is against themselves. Did you or did you not totally rock a certain quarterback's world by wearing a purple miniskirt with kittens on it?"

"Well… but… I didn't pick that outfit," Jordan defended. "Who even told you about that anyway?"

"My lips are sealed," Jack said with the accompanying locking gesture in front of his mouth. "What your daddy tells my honey while bragging about how adorable you were is clearly privileged information."

"UGH!" Jordan moaned as he facepalmed.

By the time the football team came dragging themselves back into the gym after their work out on the field, Jordan was dragging himself to the bleachers, just as exhausted. "How did our little kewpie doll do, Jack?" Mr. Lindell asked as he sat down next to Jordan. He leaned over as if he was going to hug the teen and then backed away. "Well, you certainly worked him into a sweat," he said dramatically leaning away and fanning himself.

"Papa, I think I'm dead," Jordan whined.

"Well, that explains the smell," his papa joked. "Did you learn some good stuff about how to take care of yourself?"

"He's going to need more sessions, obviously, but he did really well today, Terry," Jack told them. "Now somebody better feed me soon or I won't live to teach him anymore."

"Yes, yes, you and your brother are both coming over for dinner tonight," the art teacher told them. "Michael and his mother left school early just to make a feast for you."

"Nobody ever told me my dinner was going to be science experiments," Jack complained.

"Would you rather I cook for you?" Papa asked pointedly.

"Yum, science food, dinner of champions," Jack said dryly.

"How did I get roped into this? Why do I get food poisoning too?" the coach blurted.

"OOO I'm so telling Grandma what you said," Jordan teased.

"Hey, no sacrificing Coach to your grandmother until after the state playoffs," Denny ordered as he sat beside Jordan. "We need him until then."

"You both need showers now," the Coach griped. "What are you doing out here, Howitzer?"

"I thought I would give the team a chance to finish up first, so there's no….."

"No what, Den?" Moose asked. Everyone turned to see the whole team standing near the bleachers. "If you think we're worried about you looking at us or something, you better think again. I already told you, dick brain, if you're that into your little vanilla zinger, we all know you ain't looking at us."

"Vanilla zinger?" Papa questioned.

"He meant twinkie," Jazz explained. "I think vanilla zinger works though. You know, vanilla icing on…. Shutting up now, shutting my big fat stupid mouth."

"You got one dirty mind, Jazz. Dang," one of the other boys called out.

"I meant he has blond hair, but it's all plastered right now…. You know, like that icky icing on the vanilla zinger." He must have seen that no one was going to let him live his slip of the tongue down anytime soon. "You guys all su… umm… you're all pervs. That's what you are, pervs. Leave me alone."

"So, if Jordo here is a vanilla zinger because of his hair color, I guess if he had red hair, he would be a raspberry zinger?" Dennis questioned.

"Yeah, yeah, that's it," Jazz agreed.

"Red hair like you've got?" Dennis said with a grin.

"Yeah… WAIT NO! I am not… not that there is anything wrong with…. Coach help me?" Jazz blurted and then whined.

"Ok, that's enough teasing guys," the coach announced firmly. "All of you go hit the showers, and Jazz… maybe you should make yours a cold shower."

"That is inappropriate, Coach," Jazz yelled as he turned redder than his hair. "That's child abuse."

"Nah, it would be child abuse if I go in my office and turn the water heater off just as you morons get in there, so you all get cold showers," the coach explained. "Now, get going before I do just that. You too, Howitz. The team says you aren't any different from them, so there's no excuse to sit out here with your boyfriend."

"Yes sir, Coach," Dennis said with a big smile as he stood and started toward the locker room with the team. "Thanks guys. This… well, this means a lot."

"Don't get all mushy after we just made a point that you haven't changed," Moose told him. "You'll blow your image, and you should save your blowing for…."

"MOOSE! Detention again tomorrow," Papa yelled.

"And another detention from me," the coach added. "I swear if you don't learn to keep that big mouth shut sometimes."

"Aww man," Moose whined.