The next day we bring Stu and Mike Jr. with us to Out & Proud. Scott is driving them that day. When the girls find out who he is, they flock to him and want to know all about being my boyfriend. I fear Scott is going to blow up at me, but he seems to like all the pre-teen attention. He must be getting desperate
“Do you tell everyone now that I was your boyfriend,” he complains later.
“Yeah. I’m real proud of it.”
“You’re incorrigible,” he surprises me with a five syllable word.

Stu and Mike Jr. lead a Motown sock hop. Felix reminds them that socks are for sale as well.

 

Stu gets me aside and asks if Casper got his message.
“Yeah. You were great. He got back to our room quickly. Want to learn some signs, too?”
“So, Casper is staying with John?”
“Yeah, but John may not know. You have to keep Casper a secret.”
“But he’s my brother, too.”
“Just protect him, then. Believe me, people will not react well to a ghost living in your house.”
“Ew, scary.”
I hit him softly.
“Ew, scary.”
I pop him upside his head.
“That hurt.”
“Good.” Tim, the abuser. “How’s John doing?”
“Fine, except his parents won’t pay my folks, saying they want him back. Is that why Casper’s there, to protect him?”
“We all have to do that. Casper just tries to make him feel loved,” I explain.
“John doesn’t like to be touched.”
“Well, that’s why Casper is the only one who can show him love. John just feels it in his heart, not on his body.”
“If I get down on the floor with John, will Casper know I’m there?”
“Good luck with that. If you really love Casper, you can feel him. Let him into your heart.”
“Like letting a vampire into your house?”
“You watch too much TV.”
“I never see my shows. You keep me too busy. We have band shows every weekend now.”
“You must be getting rich.”
“Guido only pays us $5 for each show. That’s slave wages.”
“Slaves don’t get paid at all. I’ll check into it. That sounds fishy.”

I ask Mike Sr. about the Out-Crowd pay. He gets on the phone to the Lombardi’s. Guido is put on probation for stealing from the kids. Because he is family, there was nothing to do but pay back what he took. After an accounting, every member of the band gets a check for $1000, made out to be held in trust by their parents.
Mike Sr. also calls John’s parents, as John’s legal guardian. He threatens to take them to court them if they don’t pay the Watt’s, including back support. They send a check as well. Mrs. Watt calls to thank me for helping.
“It’s all, Stu. He’s worried about John.”
“My twelve year old is earning more money than we bring in.”
“Well, wait until he becomes a teenager. You may want to rent him out.”
“I worry about John, as well. But he seems better the last few days.”
“Casper’s been with him. John doesn’t know it, so don’t tell anyone. Casper knows John is fearful of others getting too close, especially physically, so he sometimes holds him in his arms while they sleep.”
“That’s so sweet and so scary. Now there are four boys in the room?”
“More like three with an occasional guest. We miss him, but we care about John, too.”
“So complicated.”
“Only when you care.”
“That’s your secret. Tim. I just realized it. You make everyone care.”
I never thought about it that way. I felt it was from being horny and hot-blooded.

Wednesday night we go to our local Catholic Church youth group. Rather than worrying about Father Joseph recognizing me from the time I slid down the drain pipe, I get the kids laughing when I describe those antics in more innocent terms. Instantly the kids ask why we were being foolish.
“’Cause we’re kids. Sometimes we get carried away, just like everyone here,” looking warily at Father Joseph who is not amused. “Our drummer and I were the only ones who dared use the pipe. Father Joseph caught everyone else.”
They all giggle.
“He let everyone go with a warning, except Dave got a personal session, as he is a parish member.”
One of the boys remarked, “I know him. He’s a cut up.”
“Not with Father Joseph on his case.”
Everyone laughs, even Father Frank.
“Are you a Catholic?”
Both Jack and I say yes.
“But sometimes it’s hard to be a good Catholic. When we’re wrong for sneaking in and fooling around on the roof, it’s easy to admit it. Father Joseph let us off with a warning.”
“Did he make you say ‘Hail Marys.””
“Just Dave.” Everyone laughs.
“Other times it’s hard to believe we are wrong for what we do. Then the Church cannot forgive us, saying we’re living in a state of sin. Is that right, Father Joseph?”
I want to make sure he is drawn into our discussion.
“Yes, son. You must truly repent to be forgiven.”
“Jack and I were raised in the Church and believe we have Jesus in our hearts. But we are told that Jesus is ashamed of us for being sinners.”
“What did you do?”
“We love each other, as boyfriends.”
The kids are totally shocked. This is not what they expected to hear in Church. Many kids start to get angry. I sense the hate in their hearts. Some of the girls have that dreamy look, similar to young girls at the clothing shop who innately trust older boys who are gay.
“It’s hard to understand why loving someone as Jesus loves us makes you a sinner. I try to think what Jesus thinks as I let another boy into my heart. Like our brains, our hearts tell us what is right and wrong. So I trust my heart when it tells me that it is right to love Jack.” He’s just staring at me, in a state of wonder.
“Maybe you are selfish and just want to believe it?” one of the boys asks.
“I definitely am a doubting Thomas and over-think everything. But Jack just keeps loving me, hoping I’ll love him back.”
“What did you decide?”
“I didn’t decide. I just loved him back. Then I knew how right it is. My heart isn’t lying. There are people with evil in their hearts, but I know I don’t. I can sense the haters, people with hate in their hearts.”
I point to boys, one after another. “I feel your hate for what I am saying. If you let me in your heart, as you have let Jesus in, you will know there is no conflict. Just try, while I tell you what’s been happening with the Baptist kids we meet.”
The boys look confused at my suggestion.
“Do you know how Baptists worship?

“Waving hands.”
“Holy rollers,”
“Speaking in tongues.”
“Immune to rattler bites.”
“Does it sound like hokum?” I ask.
They all answer, “Yes.”
“Well, we went there two weeks ago because our bass player belongs and his girlfriend wanted to pray for us, as sinners. We rolled around and got freaked out by the tongues. Then a girl said she saw Jesus, as a spirit standing beside us as we spoke with the youth leader. She said he looks like a teenager.”
“Teen Jesus,” someone says.
“That’s where the Teen Jesus rumor started. I believe she was seeing our guitarist who was killed. I hold him as dear to me as I hold Jesus.”
“She saw a ghost?”
“No. She saw the love in my heart. It matched the love she has for Jesus and her dead mother.”
“Oh,” everyone says.
I turn to the first boy I had seen as a hater but don’t sense that now. “Do you feel that the love we both have for Jesus is enough for you to love me, even though I am gay?”
It’s too much for a kid. He sits down hard in his seat and tries to stop his eyes from tearing up. All the girls near him move closer and soon he feels safer.
“Does it mean I’m gay?”
“Your heart is telling you that it’s okay to love everyone, boy or girl, old or young. You let go of the hate. Now the easy part is finding someone who also doesn’t hate.”
He looks at all the faces surrounding him and smiles.
I go through the same routine with the other two boys who have softened their feelings. They both feel the relief of banishing their hate. Two more boys are still feeling hate toward Jack and me.
“You two are not convinced. I ask you to honestly question the love you feel for Jesus. Try to believe he does not hate anyone, sinner or not. Try not to let the hate cause you to hate the people who love you, boy or girl.”

I look at both Father Joseph and Father Frank and feel their warmth toward me. I don’t think they fully accept my convoluted love theory, but maybe they hope it works for these kids.
“So, just one question, then I’ll tell you what we’re trying to do with youth groups. Who is Teen Jesus.”
“You are,” someone yells.
“I call myself Plastic Jesus, when someone tells me that.”
They all laugh.
“Your dead guitarist.”
“No, I hold him in my heart, right with Jesus, but he’s still the same boy I knew when we were boyfriends.”
“You have two boyfriends?”
“Jack’s my boyfriend. Jace is the love of my heart. Jack and I share that. We call Jace Casper now.”
“The Friendly Ghost.” And they all laugh.
“So who’s Teen Jesus?” I ask again.
Jack jumps up. “We all are. He has given us his love to grow up on. Lose the hate and don’t let the haters in.”

Everybody jumps up and cheers, even the doubting haters. Jack and I start ‘Amazing Grace,’

and everyone joins in.
Nice kids are so easy to lead astray. I hope I really did not..

The meeting breaks up. We’re surrounded by kids who want us to bless them, like we had the three boys.
“You don’t have to be in Church to offer each other a sign of peace, like after mass.”

Everyone is hugging. The three boys have the most girls hugging them and look totally satisfied with their spiritual conversion. Two boys keep hugging each other until someone tells them to get a room.
“Try the confessional,” I shout.

Looking for Father Frank, we hear him arguing with Father Joseph outside.
“True to your Franciscan vows, you sew doubt about our catechism in my youth group,” Father Joseph is angry. “Those boys turned it into a Baptist tent revival .”
“You must let your heart answer the questions they ask.”
“Am I to dismiss the acts these children bring to confession as no longer a sin.”
“Do not judge an innocent heart.”
“Those two boys are not innocent children. I hear they also worship the occult.”
I walk up to them, “Invite us into your residence. We can continue your argument. We did not intend to disrupt your youth group. Did you feel the love there? I don’t feel you have a hateful heart, but it is hardened.”
He glares at me for being impertinent and interrupting his argument with Father Frank, who takes me by the elbow, “Best to depart. Maybe Father Joseph will invite you back next week.”
That seems doubtful.

As we walk to his car, Father Frank gives me his frank opinion of our performance.
“It was quite like a revival you ran. Even laying on of hands to throw out the devil.”
“I don’t suppose you want to hear about my conversation with the devil?”
Even Jack looks shocked.
“Only if you need confession.”
“I denied him. Do I need to confess that he appeared to me.”
“If that is an honest question, then no. But if you are baiting me, then maybe yes.”
I look at him and give the old bird a hug. “Now can we play at St Patrick’s in New York.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Maybe you should explain why you call yourselves ‘False Gods.’”
‘We are challenging all those who set themselves up as petty idols. They are the false gods.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
“We’re low level Rock gods.”
“Oh, dear.” He hugs both Jack and me.

We walk back to our room. Jack, who has been quiet all night, is suddenly full of questions. Mainly he can

not believe I am so enthralled with Jesus.
“I can’t explain why I feel so strongly that He is in my heart,” I answer.
“For those kids, all they want is to go back to the day of their First Communion, when they felt blessed with Jesus’s love.”
“You know I don’t try to freeze the moments when my life is peaking. It’s what’s next that intrigues me.”
“What is next for us.”
“You will be my Queen Titania for three nights.”
Casper and me worship her before we have sex every night.

We rehearse the play all week in the school auditorium. The seating allows little room for the kids to stand in front. If we put the kids on stage, the people in their seats will be blocked from seeing the players. Finally, we compromise with a split pit on both sides of the stage, which is quite wide. The kids are already divided into sibling factions – crew and players. Grant and Robby discuss how they’ll incite the different camps into flinging the white balls at each other as well as at the players. One of the girls on the crew suggests that the crew members should be attacked as well as the players. We want chaos but good luck trying to control it.

At school on Friday, I find Grant. We discuss his Doo Wop act. I don’t mention that they failed to show for church group.
“Y’all still wanna be part of the show?” I ask.
His eyes light up, “You kidding? For those guys, it’ll be the chance of a lifetime.”
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” and we hatch our plan.
“Make sure your boys really dress up and sit down front.”
“Oh, they have that covered. They plan to make the most of embarrassing me for being in a faggot play.”
“Does it really bother you?”
“Nope. They been tryin’ to dis me all my life. I don’t care.”

It is finally Friday night. I set myself up in front of the stage with my mandolin and a small amp as everyone files in. It feels like a normal school assembly, except for all the parents there and the absence of the stoner kids, who are oblivious to us making an effort. As I strum an extended version of the overture, I think how different we’ve become since returning to class. Then I see Grant’s crew come down the aisle. Everyone is murmuring about how nice looking they are in matching dark suits, white shirts and bow ties. Before sitting down, they turn and bow to the crowd. I see the surprise on AP Spencer’s face while he watches their entrance. I hope he will not stop the show if the mayhem gets out of control. The power of the petty bureaucrat. Mr. Clark comes out in front of the curtain and welcomes everyone with his Prologue. I finish my overture and start the march of the wooden soldiers

and the curtain draws back. The two pits erupt with fake snow balls going back and forth. When Puck appears and starts his speech, both pits direct their attacks on him. Grant appears and hands him two water balloons. Puck chases his main tormentors before landing square shots on one from each side. Puck restarts his entrance speech, but the poor fairy completely forgets his lines, resulting in an avalanche of snowballs descending on him. While the Queen and King march in, a slew of kids run down the audience aisles.  Puck tosses them snowballs. Grant jumps down and directs the kids in front to attack Puck. The play pretty much goes on without anyone watching it. When Thisby appears, all the kids started mocking him. The Hispanic kids yell ‘pendejo’ at him. As soon as he turns into a jackass, all the kids, even the ones who came down the aisles, sit down. Puck and Grant sit with them. When Puck starts flirting and harassing King Theseus, the black kids yell faggot at him. Grant stands in front of him to block the attack. At the end Grant and Puck walk off together, hand in hand. After a second’s silence all the kids burst into cheers and clapping. The adults barely move, totally confused about a different kind of Shakespeare.

Mr. Clark comes out and announces that the play is over and thanks everyone. I jump on stage and grab the mic.
“Wait. We have a surprise performance. Our play is of course a shortened version of the late, great Shakespeare’s original, so we don’t want you leaving wanting more.”
Grant, still in costume, and the four other Doo Wop crew come out and start humming their signature sound. They start, ‘Life would be a dream, Shu-Boom She-Boom,’

‘Mr. Lee,’ rewriting the title to Mr. Clark.

“Heart and Soul.

 

 

I lead Jack out, still in full makeup, and sing Dion’s ‘Why Must I be a Teenager in Love’ to him.

 

 

I take the mic and announce, ‘This is for my girlfriend, Tina,” and we sing ‘Up on the Roof’ to Jack.

 

AP Spencer has had enough and marches down to shut us off. I sing ‘Big Girls Don’t Cry’ to him. Everyone laughs and points at him.

Jack and I join the crew and we all sing ‘In the Still of the Night.’

We bow to great applause and exit stage left. I go to retrieve my mandolin and amp. When I get back, A P Spencer is reading the riot act to poor Mr. Clark.
“In all my years I have never seen a worse performance on this stage. I am cancelling tomorrow’s and Sunday’s shows. We have standards here.”
To my surprise, it is Jack who defends us, after A P Spencer sneers at Robby and me, his nemeses.
“You are a little man with no cultural taste. Do you think Shakespeare put on plays with wooden players speaking barely memorized wooden lines? You don’t even comprehend that you were a main player tonight, with your boorish behavior, nasty remarks about ‘those blackies’ from Hialeah, and clownish attempts to exert control. If anyone should be shutdown, it is you. My father is on the school board. I know your contract comes up next year. If you stop our play, you will find yourself at a much different school. I hope it is Hialeah.”
Queen Titania proclaims him irrelevant. Just in time Mr. and Mrs. Stone come back stage with flowers for their Queen.
“Congratulations, Principal Spencer. The play comes alive again. I love the part when you threatened to shut them down and the kids bombarded you with snowballs. Imagine, snowballs in Miami.”
A P Spencer is suddenly thrust into his obsequious role in front of the school board. He bows and kowtows, then curtesies and leaves.
“My boy, the Queen,” Mummy presents Jack with the flowers.
Jack beams, “Oh, pansies, my favorite.”
The whole cast bursts into applause, picking Jack up and carrying him through the curtain on stage. All the audience, still there, restart their applause. We forgot to have curtain calls, so everyone rushes out to more applause.

The next two nights go well. The kids in front learn to stay on their sides and not block the players from acting. The word is out that it is meant for kids. By Sunday it resembles a ‘Rocky Horror’ audience participation event. AP Spencer never returns.

My parents attend Saturday night, saying they wanted to wait until we overcome opening night jitters. I seat them with the Stones who explain all the nuances of the play’s chaos. My parents listen politely. I know they are in the AP Spencer camp about well-organized performances. They seem to get along but obviously come from different worlds. They remain in the auditorium after we finish. When Jack and I come up to be with them, I am relieved they are on a first name basis at least. All those years of Emily Post make the Stones comfortable with my parents’ rough and ready military manners. I overhear Mr. Stone speaking about me to Dad.
“You know, Burt, I must speak to you about Tim. My Jack is something of a hot-house flower with little preparation for many of the realities of life. He really isn’t prepared to protect himself from the slings and arrows of the street. Tim has become something of a hero to him. It has made a world of difference in his attitude. He seems ready to conquer the world, much as Octavius did after Caesar’s assassination.”
“I was telling Susan how much better Tim’s attitude has been also. Jack seems good for him, as well.”
“Excellent. Perchance, they are made for each other. I must personally thank you for the many times Tim has stood up for Jack. It means the world to us.”
“Tim never has a problem standing up for his friends and what he believes in.”
“Please accept our invitation to come to Sunday dinner tomorrow, at one-ish, as long as the good priest finishes his homily promptly. I believe the boys shook up his youth group this week.”
“I’ve been surprised in Tim’s renewed interest in church. Last I heard he was attending a Baptist one.”
“Well, I hope I’m not spoiling a surprise, but I understand the boys will be performing at St Patrick ‘s Cathedral on Park Avenue for Easter Sunday. They’ve promised me that the warlock drummer is now under control.”
“Warlock?”
“Too fascinated with the occult, I believe.”
“We certainly appreciate the invitation. Maybe the boys will let Susan and me know more about their plans.”
“Sorry to jump the gun about New York. It seems Miami may be too small a stage for our boys.”
“Or perhaps, they’ve gotten too big for their britches.”
“Quite.”

They turn around to catch us standing there with huge grins on our faces. Jack runs into his father’s arms, while Dad puts me in an unyielding arm lock and tells me we will speak later. Barely escaping, we air kiss our moms and run backstage in time for Ganja with the home boys. Robby is pissed that his pot competitors are moving in on his territory. One hit and he is in serious negotiations to become the local distributor. Mary is hanging out with Flo and Edi, who welcome us.
“Do I need to bleach my hair to compete with this hussy?” Flo quips.
“Oh, that was Queen Titania. She’s a frigid bitch. You have no competition,” Jack reassures her.
They size each other and burst out laughing.
Looking at Edi, I announce, “We have a special occasion coming up in honor of Jace.”
“Oh, my poor, baby,” Edi moans referring to Jace, not me. “Is it his birthday.
“Yes, his 16th. You know what that means?”
“He’ll be driving around in the Ghost Busters ambulance.”
“Do wah?’
Mary has been clued in. “Robby says Tim promised Jace an orgy for his birthday.”
“How can it be an orgy if just one person’s there,” then looking at Jack, “well, maybe two.”
“I told Jace that every boy gets an orgy when he turns 16, as a joke, and he believed me.”
“Well, that boy won’t be turning 16 unless its turning over in his grave.”
We all burst out laughing. Casper puts on a sad face, then twirls around on the stage.
“Well, we can get together and celebrate his birthday anyway.”
“That boy talk for having an orgy?”
“Well, there may be someone who might want to get over being a virgin.”
“I told you Edi and I are planning on virginal weddings.”
“Good luck with that,” Mary observes.
“I’m not talking about girls’ virginity.”
“Oh…” and everyone stares at Jack, who turns bright red.
“I’m gay,” he proclaims, “With no plans to change that.”
I can see the wheels turning in Forward Flo’s head. So, we set the idea in motion.
“When’s his birthday?” Mary asks.
“Next Wednesday.”
“Well, you boys will be at youth group in church,” Flo kids us.
“Probably not, when we told all the kids we’re gay, the priest almost had a stroke.”
“Called to Jesus,” Edi quips.
“What did the kids say?”
“The girls were fine about it but a lot of the boys got angry,” Jack explains. “Then Tim used his Teen Jesus talk to turn them away from hate.”
“I suppose you walked on water.”
“Tim’s a water boy,” Jack snaps back.
“So who’s Teen Jesus? I heard about it at church,” Edi asks.
“Long story, but it takes the hate out of the haters if they have Jesus in their hearts.”
“I always thought Jesus was gay. What thirty-three year old man runs around turning water into wine for his twelve man posse and isn’t gay?”
“Come to the youth center at Out & Proud and check out our 12-year-old girl posse.”
“I want some of that gay underwear for myself,” Flo snaps my waistband. I start getting hard. She looks at it and pushes Jack and me toward the boy’s room. “Go scandalize the school facilities for once.”

 

 

 

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