2. Oakley

2

OAKLEY

I've known I was different since I was a kid. When those around me played house, there was always a mom, a dad, and a baby. I didn't want to play the dad and live with a mom. I wanted another dad to live with.

Most of the time, the kids I played with didn't care. We were kids. Why would we care? Even when you met the occasional asshole kid who had asshole parents and they wanted to tease and bully me because I wanted a dad/dad house instead of a dad/mom house, most of the other kids just brushed him off and excluded him in our play.

When I was nine, I met my best friends. We met on the first day of fourth grade where we were seated together, we became inseparable after that. There were and always have been six of us—Brek, Levis, Haze, Briar, Honey Bee, and me.

Back then, Honey Bee's name was Jessica. It wasn't until the following year when we were in a play, and she was the honeybee and our teacher kept calling her Honey Bee that we picked it up. I suppose her name is still Jessica, but I'm not sure the last time that actually came out of my mouth though. I wonder if she would even answer to it?

The moment I realized I liked boys, I was thirteen and a girl asked me to go to the school dance with her. I was mortified that she'd asked me. Horrified that I was going to have to answer her. And terrified of the realization that I'd just come to.

I'm not sure I actually answered her at all. Instead, I ran home and hid under my bed with tears in my eyes thinking that my life had just fallen apart.

I hid there for hours. Even when my parents were on the phone frantically trying to find me, I couldn't come out. I didn't speak as I tried my best not to sob.

My older brother found me. He walked into my room, straight to my bed, got to his knees and crouched to see under it, as if he'd known where to find me the entire time. Dylan is four years older than me. We couldn't be any more different if we tried. He was big and muscled up from playing football and I was lean and lanky from… not playing sports, I suppose.

His hair is dark and short, mine light and curling to the base of my neck. My eyes are a strange brown color while his are a bright blue.

"What're you doing, Oakley?" he asked quietly. "What happened? Whose ass do I need to beat?"

Most of the time, that made me smile. But this time, all it did was make fresh tears leak from my eyes. Dylan's smile faded. He reached under the bed and pulled me out as if I were the cat and not a ninety-pound kid.

His eyes darted to the door where we could still hear my mother on the phone looking for me. Dylan scooped me up and we stepped into my closet where we used to have brothers-only meetings as kids. But this time, he hugged me tightly in the dark space as I cried.

I'm not sure I even said what was wrong that day. He kept me safe from the world while I contemplated how it suddenly felt as if my life fell apart. When he left me, he wrapped me in a blanket and shut the closet door again.

Years later, I'd find the irony in that.

The frantic noise of my parents searching for me stopped. I didn't know what Dylan told them, but no one forced me out of the closet, tried to tell me everything was fine, or asked me what was wrong. They left me alone and I was really thankful for that.

I stayed home from school the next day and when Dylan came home, he once again joined me for a brothers-only meeting. This time, he sat next to me, his hand gripping mine.

"It's okay, you know," he said quietly.

I wasn't sure what he was talking about, nor was I convinced that he was correct, anyway.

"It's not the end of the world, Oakley."

"What's not?" I asked.

"Liking guys."

My shoulders stiffened. "How did you know that?"

He laughed. "Don't be ridiculous. I've always known."

Maybe that should have been a comfort. It wasn't.

"Get big and strong, Oakley. Be bigger than the bullies you'll face," he said.

I didn't get big and strong. However, I did go to the gym with him and his team for the remainder of the year. His team was very supportive of me being there. I wasn't sure if Dylan told them or not; they never said. They also never treated me differently than they always had—which was just their buddy's freshman brother.

Dylan graduated that year and the following, his team still dragged me to the gym with them. Because by the time his friends had moved on, I'd become a fixed part of their team. Not their football team, but still part of their team in some way.

Still, I didn't get big and strong. It only took me two years to come to the conclusion that my body type just didn't do that. However, I did gain muscle. I learned how to wrestle with them and win. I gained coordination and skill, though I was never sure what that skill was exactly.

Throughout my entire high school career, I didn't come out to anyone except my besties. That happened when I was fifteen and we were in the treehouse. It felt natural to finally tell them since we were all experiencing that awkward phase of growing up and feeling puberty in very uncomfortable and embarrassing ways.

I was afraid to tell them, even though I felt foolish for feeling afraid after. Every part of me knew that they'd still be my best friends. But the fear around being gay was really strong in high school and that pressure settled into fear.

Right before graduation, Haze came out as gay to us but swore us to secrecy. His family life wasn't pleasant and while he was never the target, he knew he would be if they knew. We knew about his home life. Especially when we were kids, he told us about how his oldest two brothers and father hurt his third brother, Oren.

We took his secret and did everything we could to keep it safe, which also made me feel better. We were protecting each other.

College should have been the safe place for us, but Haze still lived at home. So we used college as a countdown. A means to get him out of there.

But then this past summer, shit hit the fan. Oren was outed, causing the abuse and harassment to escalate. Even when Oren moved out, the nastiness of the rest of their family got loud and was everywhere.

Needless to say, Haze didn't feel safe at home. His anxiety and fear that they'd find out he's gay too and turn on him made him lose a lot of weight and sleep. He was terrified.

Then his father died. We did the only thing we could think of—get out of Anaheim. Without his father there to force him to stay, we made arrangements to leave. The guilt of leaving Oren when he didn't protect him growing up weighed heavily on Haze and maybe it was selfish of us, but we didn't let him hang around. We talked him into moving and letting Oren take care of himself.

Which he had managed. He was out of that house and living with his boyfriend.

It went from bad to worse when one of their older brothers set off bombs outside the house Oren was staying in. Haze was freaking out. Especially since he'd been on the phone with Oren when the bombs went off. He could hear Oren scream and then the alarm drowned out everything else.

It was hours before we heard back from Oren and that truly wrecked Haze. The guilt that he'd grown up with significantly increased.

Thankfully, Oren pushed him to keep his plan to move to Arizona with us. He's been really quiet since we got here, but this was a good idea all around.

We're here. We're in this huge house with seven bedrooms and like eighty bathrooms. There's a pool out back and even a fucking tennis court. The house is ginormous.

I know what the world thinks—how do college kids afford this? Honestly, we couldn't if we were actually paying what it's worth. My grandma's friend's cousin's blah, blah, blah offered it to us when she heard about our situation. (My grandmother is a gossip, but she means well.)

So here we are, living in a rich neighborhood just off of Eastern State University's campus. It's a quiet community where we were both welcomed and ignored as soon as we showed up. No one cared that five guys and a girl were sharing a house and what that looked like. No one cared that there were a couple queer kids in the neighborhood.

The only concern was whether we'd have parties. Sure, we could do that now, but… we have zero interest in that kind of lifestyle.

The biggest thing for all of us is that we don't have to hide anymore. High school can be a very unwelcoming place. Coming out then was far too intimidating. We should have been comfortable once we entered the adult world.

But not with Haze's father and brothers. All we wanted to do was protect him. That meant keeping our heads down until we could get him out of there. College graduation had been the first goal we set. Moving the fuck away sooner was the best choice we made.

We have a few cars between us, but most of what we need is within walking distance, so we rarely have to drive. Which is fortunate since it means we can save money and enjoy a coffee from the café down the road a few times a week.

None of us come from money. In an ironic twist, Haze's father had a will and he and his two oldest brothers were each given a third of his assets. Haze's first reaction was to refuse it on principle. It's disgusting that his father literally refused to acknowledge Oren, even in death.

In the end, he took it because it helped us in our new life. He also offered half to Oren, but he refused. Pretty sure he's not hurting for money since he's living with a pro hockey coach. We're really proud of Haze though. That had been the right thing to do.

We're also proud of him for moving toward repairing his relationship with Oren.

I step outside and sit on the porch. There's an enormous house across from ours that sits empty. It has three turrets and a wraparound porch. Nosy kids that we are, we've been over there to peek into the windows. The place is stunning.

All around us are mostly vacant houses. These are winter homes for those who live in the north and don't want to go to Florida like the rest of the old folks do during the winter. In the next couple months, they'll fill up.

Except the one across the street. According to Grandma, it's been up for sale for a year.

Honey Bee says it's haunted. That's why no one wants it. I'm not entirely sure I believe in ghosts, but since she's just trying to make us laugh, I don't comment. Though… I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious.

Why hasn't it sold? Is it just overpriced? As far as I can tell, this neighborhood is highly sought after.

"Hey," Brek says as he steps outside. The door closes quietly behind him and he takes a seat next to me on the steps. "Why do you always sit here instead of in one of the dozen chairs on the porch?"

I glance behind us at said chairs and shrug. "Guess I'm still not used to having chairs," I answer.

Brek snorts. We stare at the house across the road for a while. "You really think it's got ghosts?" Brek asks.

My gaze falls on all the windows, looking for a shadow, slight movement, a breeze behind a closed window. I see nothing. "If I had to guess, I think it's just overpriced," I say. That honestly makes the most sense.

"And no one has broken down the owners?" he asks, shaking his head. "From what others say, it's almost weird that it hasn't sold yet. There's talk, Oak."

"What ‘others' are you referring to?"

He grins. "The neighbor down there. She's a Nosy Nelly and a Gossiping… Jane? Isn't there a name that goes with that?" I shake my head, laughing. "Anyway, she says so. But also kids at school when I tell them where I live."

"Why do you volunteer that information?" I ask, frowning. "I don't want some creep to show up."

Brek rolls his eyes. "I don't tell them where exactly . Just that we live in the Rolling Green Estates. It's almost eerie how many times someone new asks about the house."

It makes me consider the house again. Maybe it is haunted.