James drew on his hands. That is the atrocity that landed him in detention. The teacher's face had turned red and purple for, James was sure, no reason. He didn't know how long the teacher had been standing above him, he hadn't been paying much attention. Actually, he hadn't been paying any attention. He did know that when the teacher spoke(yelled) the rest of the class thought it was incredibly funny.

      It was odd that James should get in trouble for not listening to the teacher, because so much of what teachers had to say were not even related to school subjects. They were always imposing their daily schedules and pet peeves to their classes. James didn't care what they did with their days. Not that he hated teachers or anything. It was just that their pessimistic view of life always bothered him. They all seemed to think that life was all about working 40 hours a week and they all hated to be at the school. 

      James drew little schools on the tips of his fingers. He just figured he had been born to be an artist; he was ambidextrous. Mostly he drew on himself, but he also had some art at home. He had a few paintings and some sketches. He was very proud of them. His mom had framed the big ones. Sometimes she didn't like the things that he drew. When there were drawings that were making a disturbing point she would just tell him it was good. If it was a lighthearted one, like the ones of unicorns, she would gush about how great it was and find a gorgeous frame to go with it.

      Bored and tired in a room of eleven other detention inmates, James began to draw a cross on his palm. Elaborately done figures on the cross gave it a very gaudy, Catholic appearance that pleased him greatly. James flipped his hand up and down unsure as to whether it would be considered inverted. He supposed it would if his hands were at his sides. James closed his eyes and felt a relaxing cloud cover his mind.

      "Nice cross." came a voice from in front of him. He opened his eyes. The boy in front of him was turned towards him. They looked at each other momentarily while James was trying to decide if he was being criticized. The boy smiled and pointed to James's hand. "Your hand..."

      James sighed. All right, he thought, better to be underappreciated and misunderstood than cast out. "Thank you, I draw them quite a lot. I don't know exactly why, I am not very religious."

      "I wish I could draw like that. It would make life easier. Um, I'm Christian, my name I mean." said the boy not quite sure if James cared to know his name.

      "James." He looked back down at his hand. He wanted to draw a penguin. Now his attention was once again focused on his craft. His pen was red, a color somewhat unsuitable for a penguin. He leaned down to his boot and began to undo the laces: a formidable task.

      "Nice boots too, by the way." added Christian. James looked at Christian studiously. He was wondering why Christian was so friendly. Not very many people were nice to James, he was too quiet. Momentarily forgetting the pen he studied Christian's face. Christian shifted nervously. He was a tall, strong, blonde who was probably a football player. His lashes were very long; an effect that made him look harmless and cute. His eyes were very round.

      "Thanks, I bought them at one of those Instant Goth places."

      Christian smiled. "Some of my friends shop at places like that. The more interesting friends anyway."

      "Yeah? Both my friends do too, but they feel kinda dumb when they go in. But hey, you shop where you can get the shit that you want."

      "Both your friends?" asked Christian while chuckling a bit.

      "Yeah, two friends, no one left out. No extreme upkeep, just two easy-going people."

      "I see."

      James continued pulling off his boots. Out of them tumble 24 different colored pens. Christian looked back and laughs softly. James plucked up the black and silver ones. Penguin, he thinks as he flattens his palms.

      "Why do you like to draw so much?" asked Christian. James stopped just before the ink hits his hand. He looked at Christian intensely. It doesn't seem that he's being made fun of. Still Christian has been teased quite enough to suit his tastes.

      "Why do you want to know?" asks James defensively.

      "Hey, I was just making conversation." Christian turns back around in his seat.

      Oops, guess he really did want to know. Damn, thinks James.

      "Hey, sorry man. I just take so much shit for drawing. It's got me on defense." Christian shrugs.

      "The thing is that it kinda sounds silly. I've got this like supernatural gift or something."

      Christian turns around and asks "Supernatural?"

      "Yeah it sounds wierd, but it's like I can reflect things. Like my mom, she was the first one that I drew stuff for. See, her and my dad were going through a rough patch, but she was keeping it all inside for me. She wanted to go back to school and get into the medical field and my dad was telling her that they didn't have enough money for that because of me. Of course, I didn't know any of this. Well, one day my mom comes into my room and I am drawing a picture of my mom as a nurse with a baby in her arms. She freaked out, but she's more used to it now."

      Christian is just staring blankly at james. His eyes are narrowing a little, in disbelief.

      They grew rounder when James reached out and grabbed Christian by the thumb. "Trust me." he ordered Christian.

      It just so happened that James's empathy was incredibly accurate, though it was only active in his drawing. He examined Christian's hand. He felt the urge to draw eagles and wild horses. A rainbow belonged across the palm. A broken cage.

      "Oh." said James, he was taken aback. "Shit."

      "What?" asks Christian.

      "You have one fucked up homelife huh?"

      Christian yanks his hand back. "Doesn't everybody?"

      "Yeah, but there is some serious repression and controlling going on."

      They stare at each other. Christian looks incredibly disturbed. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

      James sighs and goes back to drawing his penguin. Christian turns back to the front of the room. James knows that Christian is being held in by someone or something and the rainbow had clued him in to what that might be. He wants to draw eyelashes on the penguin, long ones like Christian's. He laughs out loud. It is so funny looking.

      "What's so funny?" asks Christian.

      "Don't be so paranoid. I was laughing at this cyberpunk penguin."

      "What?" asks Christian turning around for a look. Then he laughs. "Why does it look like that?"

      "I don't know. It's pretty cool though." James smiles proud of himself. "Sorry, for shocking you, it does that. I'm kind of a freak."

      "No, it's cool, I just didn't really believe you." Christian looks kinda worried. "So, what did you see on my hand?"

      James doesn't know what to say. "Just some things that I would draw on your hand."

      "Like what kind of things?

      "Christian... the reason that I draw, do you still want to know?"

      "Yeah."

      "Cause I like displaying my feelings and daydreams and stuff on my skin. Not everyone likes doing that. Some people like to be all bottled up."

 

      Christian shrugs but inside he is afraid. He can see right through me, thinks Christian. Their eyes meet and Christian is aware that his well kept secret is revealed to this strange man. He knows that he can't hide it from James.

      "Sure," says Christian. "Were all different."

      James nods. Then lowering his voice a bit just in case anyone is listening. "Yeah, I have a wierd talent and you're gay."

      James put it so bluntly. Christian felt nervous and a little better at the same time. Now what happened now that he had admitted it to someone. "Yeah not exactly something that you can write on your skin."

      James smiles wholeheartedly. "Yes, you can." He holds up the pens.

      Christian looks at James. "Why would I want to do that? I'll just get beat up by someone."

      "So who is it that's controlling at home?"

      "My dad. Well, he's not controlling. It's just that he really hates gay people. He would kill me if he knew. He already said that I'd better not turn into a pansie or else out of his house I'd go."

      "What a scuzz." replies James.

      "So many people are like that though."

      "Yeah, and so many people are like you. It's about time that people like your dad start realizing that. It's not anything that will go away, and it shouldn't. Screw that. Feminism used to be looked down the same way. That if you are a woman just be quiet and stay in the home. That's what they want you to do. But, don't. Just like women couldn't change themselves neither can you. It's time that people adapt to the idea of homosexuality. I mean my God, it's been around since biblical times."

      Christian is just looking at him like he's nuts. "You on the debate team?"

      James laughs. "No, just sick of this crap."

      "Hey it's Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve." says Christian. They laugh.

      "You're wierd Christian."

      Seconds later, all of James's pens are out and ready for his greatest masterpiece.

      "Do we have to do this. I'll just stick to your hands. Then you can walk close fisted til you get home."

      "He'll kick me out of his house James."

      "I have a really nice mother, who I am sure could deal with a new son. Besides, think of the cause!"

      "Hey you are the freak on a mission."

      James smiles. "Why, yes, yes I am."

      "Hey, how come you get to make a stand using me?"

      "Just lucky I guess."

      "I think I want to tell him though."

      "He'd realize it anyway with you never dating and just having your male friends over all the time."

      "Maybe, I did date a girl on the cheerleading team a bit back."

      "You bi?" asks James.

      "No, pretty sure I'm not. You know Kelly on the squad? No bells."

      "Wow, you are so gay."

      Christian smiles. "I feel better than I have in years."

      "Good, now give me your hand, and let's start the healing."

      "How corny." mumbles Christian.

      "Oh, this whole conversation has been corny."

      "So do I actually solve anything by doing this?"

      "Yes, you make him face that the son that he love is homosexual and maybe gays aren't the sin ridden devils that he thought. Maybe he can get used to. If he can't it will at least change his opinion of homosexuality some." explains James. The eagle he is drawing has such lifelike feathers.

      "And maybe I can actually date."

      "I'm taken." says James.

      "Hey just cause we're holding hands doesn't mean that I'm interested."

      James takes a second to smile at Christian. "My gal is really cute. She looks kinda like that girl in Beetlejuice, but with more pep."

      "Sounds... wierd, but hey to each his own."    

      James draws what he saw when he first looked at Christian. Eagles fly, horses run, and a rainbow hangs over a broken cage. James loves the ink and the ink loves him in return. Christian feels himself changing. His apprehensions depart and his will strenghtens. The blues, greens, oranges, and all the other colors form the tapestry of Christian's soul.

      After detention outside the class, James and Christian embrace. James knows that he has done the best job of his life. He knows that his art will stay long after the ink disappears and Christian will display it proudly and without fear.

      "So, you want to get together sometime? Me and my girlfriend go to the arcade almost all the time."

      "Can you keep up with three friends?" asks Christian.

      "I'll manage, I'm sure..."

      "Thanks for everything James. I'll see you around."

      As Christian walks off campus he turns back to James and says "I am going to go home and shake my father's hand."

 

THE END  THE END   THE END  THE END   THE END   THE END   THE END   THE END