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doing our "extra" thing, acting like high school students. The "jocks" started strutting around like jocks, the "cheerleaders" twirled and flitted like cheerleaders, and the "nerds" like Gunnar and me crept back and forth like antisocial computer nerds.
    The director called "Action!", which meant the real actors were supposed to start acting.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the scene in the foreground unfold. Declan McDonnell entered through the front doors. The "real" jocks and cheerleaders, the ones played by actors, all laughed at him for wearing white socks, not green ones.
    A few minutes later, the director yelled, "Cut!"
    Then we had to do it all over again.
    But this time, one of the "extra" jocks, probably taking a cue from what was going on in the foreground, decided it would be more realistic if he started picking on the nerds—namely, Gunnar and me.
    He deliberately bumped up against me in the hallway—roughly, I might add. "Outta my way, dork!" he said.
    Kevin, who was standing with him, hesitated a second. Then he added, "Yeah, outta our way, dorks."
    I couldn't help but remember the time that Kevin had done almost this exact same thing to me for real, joining in with his jock friends and teasing me, not because I was a nerd, but because I was gay. I'd learned then what was obviously still true now: Kevin just did what those around him did. Despite his muscles, he was fundamentally weak.
    "Good!" the director called to us. "Jock extras? Keep teasing the nerds! That's perfect!"
    After the first couple of takes, the camera jammed (or something), and we were told it would be a few minutes before filming resumed.
    Kevin immediately stepped up next to me. "Can you believe that's really Declan McDonnell ?" he said, as breathless as I had been before. "Damn, he's hot!"
    Of course it took another gay boy to see the obviousness of such things. But I wasn't breathless anymore. I was irritated that Kevin had been so quick to tease me just because someone else had first. Frankly, I was annoyed that Kevin was even at this movie shoot at all.
    I turned to face him. "Kevin, why are you doing this?"
    "What?" he said. "You mean the teasing? Sorry about that. But it's what the director wanted."
    Yeah, I wanted to point out, but you started teasing us before the director had said he liked it!
    "It's not about the teasing," I said, because it mostly wasn't. "Why are you here at all? This isn't your thing. You're a jock—for real, I mean. You should be out doing jumping jacks somewhere."
    "Whaddaya mean? I wanted to be in a movie."
    "Admit it, Kevin. You're here because of me."
    "That's not true!" But I could tell I was right because he was suddenly talking louder than before.
    "Kevin," I said. "I'm really flattered that you want to get back together with me, but it can't work. I have a boyfriend. So that's that. We're not getting back together, okay?"
    There, I thought. I had nipped this thing in the bud. I'd stopped him in his tracks and cut him off at the pass. How much clearer could I be?
    "Sure," he said. The weird thing is, suddenly he wasn't talking loudly anymore. And then he flashed me a grin that was even more impish than usual.
     
    *   *   *
     
    Sunday night was when I had to go see Father Franklin—specifically, to the rectory, which is what they call the place where the priest lives. His housekeeper met me and led me to his office, where he was working at his desk. Father Franklin was an old man with a rotund body and a boyish face. Imagine a gigantic baby, and you won't be far off.
    His office smelled like incense—but not just any incense. The funeral kind, thick and serious. It made the whole office smell like a crypt.
    He stood up when he saw me. He was dressed all in black with the white collar and everything. "Russel!" he said. "Come in, come in. It's good to see you again."
    "Ah," I said. It wasn't good to see him again, and I wasn't going to lie and say it was.
    We shook hands, which still made