May 2026 - school hallway > Likes and Comments
date
newest »
newest »
message 1:
by
Kaje
(new)
May 02, 2026 07:52PM
Here's a prompt picture for anyone who might want to try their hand at flash fiction - we haven't done this for a while. Just keep it YA and LGBTQ - anything from Haiku to a short story is welcome.
reply
|
flag
And my story for this: Best Laid Plans
Jory stood seventeen feet down the hall from the high school auditorium doors, his gaze fixed on the shiny glass front of the trophy case. At this precise angle, the case provided a reflective surface, displaying students as they filed out of the auditorium after tryouts for the junior play. Jory had a plan and this was stage one— precise timing.
The first few students through the doors were girls, chatting cheerfully, hands already pulling out their phones, heads leaning together over screens. Michelle said, "Hi," as she passed. Jory eased himself farther around the lockers, trying not to look obvious.
From his new angle, faces were harder to see, but the bright red curls he was waiting for were distinctive. And… there.
Jory strode out, timing his steps so as to end up walking next to— Fuck! Those bright red curls weren't topping the gorgeous slim body of Lucas Redmond, but the bulky rugby-player body of his older brother Mike.
At that point, Jory was stuck. Committed. Running away from Mike would be a pretty pointed insult. He tried to rework his planned opening. Not "Do you think you got the part?" but "Hey, were you trying out for the play?" What came out of his less-than-practiced mouth was, "Hey, were you playing?"
Mike glanced down at him, his forehead creased. "Jory, right? Playing what?"
"Nothing." They'd reached a side corridor and Jory could make his escape. "I'm over there. I mean, that's me." He waved toward the back classrooms, pivoted ninety degrees and scurried away. Don't look back. Don't look back. After five strides, he couldn't resist. Mike had surely strode off on his long, thick rugby player legs… But no. Lucas's older brother still stood at the junction, staring after Jory, that puzzled look on his face.
Jory waved at Mike— Jesus, kill me now— and hurried away.
Next day, he retooled his approach. He was going to talk to Lucas if it killed him. He hadn't been quite desperate enough to try out for the play. Getting up on stage was pretty much his nightmare. Even making sets and scenery was a social activity where his perfectionism would probably have him voted off the island by the second day. But he could happen to be here, close to where the cast list would be posted, where Lucas would show up to see if he'd won top billing as usual.
A crowd had gathered near the English bulletin board, waiting. Jory wasn't sure why Mr. Floen didn't just post the list online. Then people could cheer and cry in the privacy of their own rooms. But Mr. Floen was old as dirt and had been doing the school plays for forty years and this was how it was apparently always done. At least, it gave Jory a guaranteed Lucas sighting.
Although perhaps not a great conversation chance, given the crowd of excited juniors chattering at the tops of their lungs. The noise built as Mr. Floen approached the board, a paper and thumbtack in his hands. The crowd surged.
Jory backed up two quick steps and his heel came down funny. He staggered, tripped, and his shoulders hit a yielding wall that muttered "Youch! My foot." somewhere above his ear. Jory tried to pivot, staggered, and was kept from crashing headfirst into a locker by a pair of strong hands.
"Oh my God." Jory peered down at the large feet in red sneakers he was mashing, then up at Mike's blue eyes. Scrambling, he got himself righted and his weight off Mike's toes. "Sorry! I'm sorry. I was just… They're kind of loud and I didn't try out so I was making room."
"Stupid play, right?" Mike released Jory's elbow.
Jory's skin felt branded by that touch. He rubbed his arm vigorously. "The play's not stupid. I mean, I wouldn't want to be in it, but your brother is and he'll probably be great."
"Great?" Mike raised a ginger eyebrow. "Are we talking about Lucas?"
"Yes, yes of course. Like last year, in The Corners of the Earth." Jory raised his chin and threw his shoulders back, like Lucas in the sophomore play, and declaimed, "The future's out there!" His dramatic hand-sweep, unlike Lucas's noble gesture, ended up smacking Mike in the chin. "Ack, sorry!"
Mike rubbed his jaw, which Jory noticed had a dusting of auburn shadow, unlike Jory's own baby-smooth face. "Hey! I'm the big brother. I'm supposed to make fun of Lucas. You don't need to punch me for it."
"I didn't punch you. That wasn't a punch!"
"It sure wasn't. If you ever want to learn how to hit someone properly, let me know."
"I don't want to learn to hit people. I want…" Jory turned as he spoke and saw a head of red curls to match Mike's bobbing away in a sea of excited students.
Someone shouted, "He does it again," and Andrea leaned over and kissed Lucas on the cheek. Lucas wrapped one arm around her and the other around Hannah and they began doing a Wizard-of-Oz walk off down the corridor toward the auditorium. Ten seconds, and the whole excited group rounded the corner and were out of sight.
"Oh," Jory said forlornly.
Mike peered down at him. "Did you want to talk to them or something?"
"Not them." Jory clamped his mouth shut before he said too much. "I, um, my shoe's untied." He knelt quickly to fumble with his sneaker, looking down to hide his face.
"Your shoe doesn't have laces," Mike noted.
"I forgot." Jory popped back up, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and muttered, "Bye." With a wave over his shoulder— kill me again— he hurried off down the hall. This time he managed not to look back.
Day three of Operation Talk-to-Lucas dawned with less optimism. Jory didn't actually know Lucas's class schedule and his locker was in a whole different part of the building. Beside which, hanging around a guy's locker was a level of uncool even Jory couldn't stand.
However he did know what Lucas's car looked like. Time for desperate measures. When last bell went, Jory bolted out into the parking lot ahead of the crowd. There. Lucas's cool baby-blue Mustang sat in a far corner of the lot to protect her from dings, which was perfect for Jory's plans. He trotted over there, rounded the car to the driver's side, and tossed his pen underneath. Then he knelt on the pavement and peered under, reaching as if trying to retrieve the pen.
Footsteps approached. Jory said without looking up, "I'll be out of your way in a second. I dropped my pen and it rolled under here."
"Take all the time you need," Mike's deeper voice replied. "I'm enjoying the view."
"Fuck!" Jory's supporting hand went out from under him and he face-planted on the blacktop.
"Ouch, that looked painful. Here."
Jory rolled his eyes sideways to see Mike bending over, offering him a hand up.
Might as well. It wasn't like Jory would ever live down this humiliation. He grasped Mike's strong fingers and let himself be hauled to his feet.
"Is your pen really under there?" Mike asked.
"Yes, of course!" Jory snapped, like he was insulted at the idea this was fake. Even though it was. At least he'd given it some verisimilitude.
"My arms are longer. Let me see if I can get it." Mike lay down and stretched his arm under the car.
For a millisecond, Jory considered running. Just vanishing. Except he imagined Mike coming up with the pen, rising to return it, and spotting Jory dashing away out of sight. That thought was more humiliating than staying put.
"Got it." Mike stood and held out the pen.
Jory took it and instead of "thank you," his mouth came up with, "Isn't this Lucas's car?"
"Yeah. My truck's a lot bigger and he needed to haul some plywood so we swapped." Mike tilted his head. "Did you need Lucas for something?"
Only my stupid daydreams. Jory sighed. "No. Not really."
Mike's gaze traveled down Jory from his Doctor Who T-shirt to his snuggest jeans, his best sneakers, and back up to his unruly brown hair. Jory could feel the flush heating his skin.
Mike said, "Not sure this is relevant, but you do know Lucas is straight, right?"
"He's what?" Jory stared into Mike's blue eyes. "Are you sure? I mean he's so… so…"
"Flamboyant? Fond of eyeliner and crop tops? Lacking in any kind of taste?"
"Uh."
"Lucas is theater all the way, but he only dates girls."
He only dates girls. Jory's limp fingers dropped his pen again. It rolled toward the car and he rushed to stomp on the damned thing and keep it from going under. His foot hit the rolling ballpoint, he toppled off balance, and was caught before faceplanting.
Mike gripped Jory's elbow and grinned. "We've got to stop meeting like this." He let go, bent and retrieved the pen, and held it out.
"I'll get out of your hair," Jory agreed. Forever.
"Didn't mean that." Mike held onto his end of the pen when Jory pulled on it. "What I meant was, if you're looking for the gay Redmond brother, you've found him."
"You?"
"Me. And it happens I have a thing for cute klutzes with big dark eyes and messy hair and cute butts."
"Mine?" Jory twisted to look over his shoulder at his ass, then realized and straightened. "I think you have me mixed up with someone."
"Nope. No mix-up." Mike let go of the pen. "And after running into each other too literally three times now, what would you say to a soda and a donut at Sam's bakery on purpose?"
"Donut?"
"You do eat donuts? You're not dieting to stay slim like that?"
"No!" Jory retorted. "I love donuts."
"Well?" Mike walked around the car and opened the passenger side. "I may not be a great actor, but I'm a better driver than my brother and I won't talk your ear off. Care to find out?"
Jory looked Mike over, from his wide shoulders to his strong thighs and up to those blue eyes that hadn't mocked him once, through all his awkward maneuvers. Maybe it was his good fortune that the gay fairy had picked the older Redmond brother. "Sure," he said, picking up his backpack and rounding the car. "Donut me."
He hoped Mike's laugh was general amusement and not because "donut me" was some kind of gay sex slang Jory had never heard of. But either way, he was ready to find out what came next.
.
### thanks for reading ###
—

