Matt nodded. The game didn’t just involve nudity, it was rigged towards it.
“Second,” William said, holding up his middle finger. “No asking the guys any question that might help you identify them.”
“No problem,” Matt said.
“Third.” William held up his ring finger. “Each round will go like this: Mouse will go first, asking you ‘Truth or Bare.’ You make your choice, go from there. Then you get to ask Mouse ‘Truth or Bare.’ Then it will be Pirate’s turn. Then Princess, et cetera. Got it?”
Matt gave a thumbs-up, which seemed appropriate given that William had three fingers in the air.
Matt did quick calculations in his head. Each round, he would be called on six times and would have to remove a minimum of two articles of clothing, while each member of the GM would only be called on once. There was no way this would end without his being starkers while everyone else would still be half dressed. He hoped that when it came William’s turn, William would choose “truth.” He already knew what he would ask him.
“Truth or Bare?” Mouse asked.
“Bare.” Matt didn’t wait to be prompted. He peeled off his shirt and tossed it aside. This hotel intimidated him. These masks spooked him. Stripping in front of strangers? No problem. He’d been undressing in locker rooms since middle school.
Matt asked the same question of Mouse: “Truth or Bare?”
Mouse chose “truth,” so Matt lobbed him a softball question, asking him what was his favorite TV show?
“Friends.”
It was Pirate’s turn. Matt chose “truth.”
“What is something you’ve done that you deeply regret?” Pirate asked.
Matt was surprised. He had expected a few easy warmup questions. Obviously, he regretted ever meeting the youth pastor. But he was the victim. Thosememories triggered thoughts of something that he did regret, something he’d never spoken of.
“You have to answer the question, dahling,” William said. “That’s how the game is played.” His voice had a subtle edge, as if part of him was still distracted by the news he had received earlier.
Matt sighed. “A few years ago, we…my family… had to move to a new city. …A new school. …I was thirteen.”
He paused, looking at the cartoon faces staring back at him. “There was this squirrelly kid in school named Spencer. Short. Skinny. Not just poor, but what my mom called ‘hardscrabble poor.’”
Matt’s mind conjured Spencer as he had been. Teeth too big for his small mouth. Brittle, dishwater gray hair. A runt of a kid trapped in the Thunderdome that was middle school, where violence stalked the halls, where blood sport lurked in the shadows.
Matt scratched his arm nervously. The room was so quiet, he could hear people’s muffled voices from the corridor. Memories crowded his mind, pulling him back to 1990—a year he did not like to revisit.
“Spencer befriended me while everyone else sat on the sidelines, waiting to see what the popular kids would do.”
Matt’s eyes misted. He blinked back tears. “Spencer was the first, and last, person I told that I was gay. He was cool about it.”
Matt’s voice trailed off. He shivered. “Can I get a do-over and choose ‘bare’ instead?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood.
William shook his head. So did the creepy clown in his creepy blue high tops. What self-respecting gay paired high tops with shorts? It was frustrating to Matt because the shoes kept catching his attention, drawing his gaze to Clown’s deliciously downy legs. Then, as his eyes travelled up the body, he’d be jarred by that damn mask.
William coughed discreetly, signaling for Matt to continue.
“One day in the hall a couple of the popular guys started picking on Spencer, calling him a faggot,” Matt said. “I had been talking with him, but I shrank back into the crowd.”
Matt could still remember his fear that the bullies might discern his gay guilt just by his association with Spencer, the presumed faggot.
“I stood by while they shoved him around,” Matt whispered.”
“…I even joined in the laughter.”
The cartoon squad stared back at Matt, their plastic smiles frozen in what felt like judgment.
Finally, William broke the silence. “Thank you for sharingthat, Matthew. I do not mean to imply that your behavior was acceptable, but I think I speak for all of us when I say that we know the brutal food chain of middle school. You are either predator or prey, most of the time both.”
