7 Days at the Hot Corner Read Online Free PDF

think I am?”
    I shot back, “I don’t know. I guess a gay one?”
    Travis turned red, and said, “If you’re worried about AIDS, go get a test. You can get HIV from any unsafe sex, you know?”
    I knew he was right, and he knew that I’d been with girls before, but he’d bled all over my hands, and he’d never answered my question about maybe being HIV.
    We sat through another awkward silence, and it felt like Travis was reading every negative thought in my mind; he said, “You can’t handle this.... I didn’t think you could.”
    Stalling, because I didn’t know what to say, I muttered, “What?”
    Travis said, “You heard me; I knew you’d react this way. My being gay doesn’t fit your imaginary view of the world.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    â€œLook how you are, man—baseball and bullshit—you think everything is the way you wish it were, when really nothing is!”
    That really got to me. My ears burned even hotter than before; my face and neck felt flushed as I got more and more mad; finally, trying to control my tone, I said, “How am I the bad guy in this thing? You’re the one who’s gay, who’s making some big issue of … coming out.... Big friggin’ deal! Why do gay people think all the rest of us need to know that stuff about you? I never get that.”
    Travis, blushing, snapped back, “You never will, Scott, not as long as you live in fantasyland, a wonderful world where baseball is more important than anything or anybody, where my parents are perfect and your parents are not because they got divorced, where I have to be straight to be all right with you, and … man, the list is endless.... Fantasyland!”
    â€œFuck you!” I yelled, surprising myself by how loud I said it. “You never trusted me to handle it before, you never gave me a chance—”
    He interrupted, “Well, now’s your chance—”
    I interrupted right back, “Yeah, now , along with every kid in school. Thanks a lot.”
    He said, “Trust has to be earned.”
    I felt frozen, unable to say anything more. We just sat there in another long silence. If he said another word, I’d want to beat him up; he probably felt the same way toward me.
    But all I could think about were three things: First, every kid in school but especially my teammates finding out about Travis being gay, and all of them thinking that I must be too; second, being distracted when I should be focused on playing ball; and last, about dying, about being dead just because I was a friend to Travis Adams. I felt like throwing up. The room swirled around me and I couldn’t find the words to tell him how afraid I was. Instead, I looked up and forced a weak smile. I said, “It’s cool,” although it sounded phony even to me.
    Travis didn’t smile back and he didn’t say another word.
    I’d said it was cool, but it wasn’t then, and it sure isn’t now.
    That conversation was yesterday, and we haven’t spoke ten words to each other since.
    After my AIDS test today, when I get home, the house is quiet. I go straight to my room.
    Travis is lying on my bed when I open my door. He’s been sleeping on the couch downstairs.
    He looks up and asks, “You want the bedroom?”
    I answer, “No, I’m good—I just gotta grab my stuff for the game.”
    He asks, “Where you been?”
    I’m not about to admit to him that I was at the Public Health building, getting an HIV test, not after how he acted before, so I say, “Just out, getting gas—nothing much.”
    We’re both quiet.
    I’d like to ask him if he’s heard about anyone figuring out that he’s the guy from the “Coming Out” article—that’s what is really on my mind, but I don’t know how to ask it without him getting upset again. Thinking