Something to offer. Yeah, that’s how I feel. In the shop I have something to offer, sure, but it’s always been more about getting to a place where I could offer the same thing as Pop or Luther or the other guys who I learned from. But this—I get what he’s saying. It’s not just information about cars that I’m offering these kids; it’s, like, the possibility that they can be good at something.
“I thought, um, Javier might be there today. Since you’ve talked so much about him,” I say, and I cringe a little because I sound… jealous.
Rafe’s eyes widen and he swallows hard. He shakes his head and looks at his hands, fisted on his knees. Not so relaxed now.
“Javi’s dead,” he says, his voice breaking. “He died three months ago.”
“What? Fuck, man, I’m—shit! I just thought… shit, sorry.”
Rafe’s arms are crossed over his chest, the fabric of his shirt pulling taut. His posture reminds me of Ricky’s as she walked away, her skinny arms holding herself tight against the world. He shakes his head like he wants very much for me not to make him talk about it.
“I run it now. The YA. I’ve run it since Javi died.” Rafe clears his throat, and I can tell he’s making a conscious effort to keep his voice steady. He fists his hands but uncrosses his arms. “So, if you want to make these workshops a regular thing, I think that’d be great. Maybe we could figure out a way to get a car you could actually work on.”
“Yeah,” I agree. Rafe obviously wants to change the subject and it seems like the least I can do after stumbling into it. “Um, we get piece-of-shit cars at the shop all the time, like I was saying. I could bring one over and leave it in the parking lot? I guess I could tow it over; that way I could get one that didn’t run and it’d be more stuff for me to show the kids how to fix? Oh yeah, well, I have one that came in the other day—the engine basically seized completely and it would’ve cost about five grand to fix so the guy just left it there. That’d be awesome to show them because the whole engine kind of melted….”
Rafe’s staring at me. He seems to realize he’s doing it and clears his throat.
“Let me check with Marcus. He’s in charge of the actual church and the parking lot. He’ll know if it’s okay to leave the car there. I think it sounds great, though, if he’s all right with it.”
Then he gets a wicked gleam in his eye.
“I know someone who will be very excited to see you again,” he says. “Mikal took quite a shine to you.”
“Yeah, what was the deal with that, man? I’m surprised some of the other kids don’t want to kick his ass, being so obvious like that. Like, uh, Carlos? He seems like the type… well, at least when I was in school, he would’ve been the type to kick someone’s ass for acting, um—”
“Gay,” Rafe supplies easily.
I nod and Rafe’s smile turns wry.
“Colin,” he says, shaking his head, “YA is a queer youth group.”
“Uh, what?”
“Did I not mention that? Huh. I guess I forgot.”
“Queer? Like… all of them?”
Rafe nods.
“Wait, seriously?”
“Seriously,” Rafe says calmly.
My heart starts to pound. “Wait, wait, so do they think I’m—” My breath starts coming faster than it should, and I note, absently, that I haven’t had any problems with my breathing all day.
Rafe puts his hand on my forearm. I jerk my arm away and look around to make sure no one saw. He sighs and leans back.
“No,” Rafe says. “We have straight volunteers. They don’t know anything. I promised you I wouldn’t expose you like that and I meant it. I wouldn’t expose you by implication either. I swear.” He’s careful not to touch me, but he’s looking at me intently, like he can will me to trust him.
“So, then, why didn’t you tell me it was a… queer”—the word sounds wrong in my mouth, like it should be an insult but it isn’t—“group? And drop that bullshit about forgetting. You seem like you never forget anything.”
“Fine. I didn’t mention it because I wanted you to go into it with an open mind. Not only for yourself, but for the kids. A lot of people bring a shitload of stereotypes to working with queer youth. I’ll bet you know exactly the stereotypes I’m talking about, because I think you might have them for yourself.”
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
“If you want to change your mind now that you know, I suppose that’s your prerogative.”