“Nah, my mom’s probably already out there,” Joey said as they headed together across the basketball court. “And Topher’s on our way, so...”
“Hob?” Jules said as they went out into the warmth of the late afternoon, but then he caught himself. “Or should I say Kevin?”
“You can call me whatever you like,” the younger boy said. “And yes, please. Not having to walk home would be great.”
Sure enough, Joey’s mom was waiting for him—in an ancient VW van. She looked like she’d stepped directly out of that movie about the music festival in Woodstock. Go figure she’d have a kid in ROTC.
But Joey and Topher both walked Jules and Hobbit all the way to Jules’s car, which was really sweet.
“Thanks again, guys,” Jules said as he and Hobbit got in.
“We’ll wait for you from now on,” Topher said and Joey nodded.
“One of these days we’ll actually fight those motherfuckers.” He swiftly added, “S’okay to say motherfucker?”
“Mother-fucking is generally not a gay activity. We might help her do her hair or nails, maybe pick out an outfit if she’s got a big day at work.”
Joey laughed. “You’re funny.” But then, with unexpected insight, he added, “I guess you kinda have to be.”
“It helps,” Jules agreed. “Thank you both again.”
“No worries, man.” Topher and Joey headed back toward the van and what started as a double-time march quickly turned into a sprinting race. Jules smiled as he started his car. He’d been nervous going into this today, but now he felt... okay.
He glanced over at Hobbit before he backed his car out of his spot and headed for the parking lot exit. “Thank you again, too.”
“I couldn’t just leave you there, either,” Hobbit said.
“Do they do that often?” Jules asked, pulling onto the main road. “Rodney and his...” How had Hobbit put it? “Idiots.”
“Hmm.” Hobbit made a thinking-about-it noise. “Not really. Just a few times a week.”
“Just?” Jules asked, agog, his voice going up an octave or two. “Kevin, that’s not okay.”
Hobbit shrugged. “Yeah, well, no one cares.”
“I do.”
“Yeah, I know,” Hobbit said quietly. “You cared even before you knew it was me.”
“I care even more now.” Oh, crap, things not to say to a boy who had a crush on him. Except it was entirely possible that, after this afternoon, after seeing this kid rush to his rescue, Jules may have had a little bit of a crush back.
Fuck you, David.
The sad truth was David would’ve never done what Hobbit had—willingly goneintoa locker room while knowing Rodney and his idiots were in there. Not even to save Jules. Jules had always believed it was because David had gotten bullied so badly when he was younger. He simply couldn’t. It was just too hard to overcome the crushing fear.
And yet, Hobbit hadn’t hesitated. Hobbit, who’d been bullied and threatened “just” a few times last week alone.
“Hey, in my backpack,” Jules told Hobbit now, “main zipper, right at the top...”
“You want me to...?”
“Yeah,” Jules said. “Open it for me, will you?”
“Sure thing, boss.” Hobbit unfastened his seatbelt to divenearly headfirst into the backseat where Jules had tossed his pack.
“There’s a permission slip,” Jules told the younger boy. “For the club. Green piece of paper. I got it for you.”
“For me?” Hobbit’s voice actually cracked.
