“—If Paul is right, and Colton keeps up his ‘chess game,’ how many more of your old love letters do we have for leverage?”
William shrugged. “None.”
“In your ‘Nana’s’ box.” Matt pointed to the box. Surely William had misunderstood the question. “How many other love letters or cards from Colton do you have?”
“Again. None.” William said. “That card was it. This box and the other papers in it were just props.”
“Props?”
William rolled his eyes. “Like I would ever call anyone ‘Nana!’ Honestly, Matthew, I sometimes worry that you really are just a pretty jock after all. There are no Vances in my family tree. This kitschy box cost me five dollars at a junk store.”
Matt sat down. He felt suddenly tired. Defeated. Now Colton Langley believed this box was crammed with letters and cards that could damn him. He would not stop until he had them all.
“Why?” Matt asked.
William eased himself into a chair. He took a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was small, devoid of his usual bravado. “I knew I hadto trade that card to save you and Paul. It seemed so pathetic to just walk in here clutching one card. I wanted to have a little power over Colton. I’ve spent the last three years being pitiful.”
Paul just stood there, blinking at them from behind his glasses. No doubt he was thinking about chess.
Matt sighed. He understood, sort of. He’d never been in love, could not imagine a love like William’s that clung to the memory of the person Colton had once been. Could not imagine spending three long years in the shadow of his lost love, scorned and mocked. He probably would have wanted props as well.
Matt gave William a side hug. “The important thing is that you saved Paul and me. Thank you!”
William managed a half smile.
“Obviously you don’t think of this Colton problem as a chess game,” Matt said to William. “I get that. But I know you have a plan. You told me you did. That’s why you had me run for SGA. Now would be a good time to let us in on the secret.”
William smiled, sat taller. “Isn’t it obvious, dahling? Colton’s term as president of SGA expires in May. He plans to run for re-election. You’re going to run against him and win!”
Matt felt panic coursing through him. This was William’s plan? Even if Matt defeated Colton, surely a first for a freshman to run for president, what real difference would it make? Colton might not be president, but he would still be a student. He would have his entire senior year—free of the hassles of SGA—to hunt fags.
Matt realized that Paul had been right. Colton was playing chess, aiming for checkmate. Had been all along. The GM had been playing many games, might even have succeeded in protecting most of their members from Colton’s schemes. But they had never made a single chess move.
Paul summed up Matt’s sentiments. “We’re fucked!” he said.
Chapter 27: Won’t You Be My Gaybor
10/12/’95
Mustang,
My counselor thinks we should stop corresponding. He says I’m too fragile right now. He’s worried that I’ll get hurt.
Why? Because maybe my “type” happens to be tall blondes. Because maybe I’m reading a lot more into our correspondence than is really there. Because I nearly cried over the fact that you took the time to solve my little riddle about J.C. Leyendecker.
Also, because our lives are so different. You’re the hero athlete, enjoying college life. The biggest news I can report is that my counselor convinced mom to let me start closing my bedroom door. I’m still on house arrest, but at least I get a little privacy.
Thank you again for your letters. I’ve treasured them all.
Goodbye,
Adam
10/18/’95
Adam,
You’re not misreading things. I’m interested in you, too! More than interested. Infatuated? All I know is that I can’t stop thinking about you. Your eyes. Your freckles… But if your counselor’s that worried, then tell him we’re just friends.
