The Less-Dead by April Lurie

glances at Carson. “Alone, if that’s okay.”
    “Um, sure,” I say. “Hey, Carson, I’ll be right back.”
    Carson nods and takes a seat on the church steps; Hercules happily jumps onto his lap. “No worries, man. Go ahead. Me and Hercules will chill out here for a while.”
    Quindlan leads me to the side entrance of the church, opens the door, and ushers me inside. We take seats on the back pew. There are a few people praying in the front row, but the place is mostly empty and eerily quiet. I’m wondering what Quindlan can’t say in front of Carson.
    He shifts in his seat. “Noah, this might be a little awkward for you, but are you aware of how Will feels about you?”
    “Uh, well, if you mean …”
    He nods.
    “Yeah, I figured it out. Actually, Carson caught on first and told me.”
    “And you’re okay with that?”
    “Well, it’s the first time a
guy’s
had a crush on me, but I think I can handle it. Why?”
    “I just wanted to make sure. Will’s a sensitive kid, and I don’t want to see him get hurt. Anyway, I’m glad you’re open-minded. Not everyone is. Like Doomsday, for example. He and Will are friends, but Will doesn’t share the fact that he’s gay. There’s no point, really.”
    “But he shared it with you?”
    “Yes. And he told me what happened at your house Monday night—the way your father reacted.”
    “Right. My dad. Chased him off.”
    “Well, yes and no. Will’s pretty independent. He has a hard time accepting help from anyone. Plus, he was really upset about what he heard on the news that night. About the second murder. He wanted to find out who the boy was. As it turned out, he knew this kid too. It shook him up badly.”
    “Oh, God. Who was it?”
    “His name was Paul Mateo. He was a kid Will knew when they were younger. Will said Paul used to get picked on a lot. It’s really sad. Seems like this killer not only hates gay people, but preys on helpless kids too. Hopefully the guy they arrested is the one.”
    “Warren Banks,” I say, picturing his mug shot on TV. There’s a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. “He used to go to our church. He was my sister’s Sunday school teacher.”
    Quindlan nods. “I know. Will told me.” There’s an uneasy silence between us. “Noah, I understand how you feel about your father. I grew up in a family like yours.”
    “Really?”
    “Yeah. Before, when Carson asked what my story was, I didn’t tell you. I have a hard time talking about it. You see, my father was the founder of an evangelical ministry called God’s Warriors. His mission was to bring the gospel to teenage gang members in the South Bronx. And, well, he did a lot of good things, helped kids get off drugs and off the streets, but he was pretty hard-core about his beliefs. When he found out my brother was gay, he basically wrote him off.A year later we found my brother in the bathtub. He’d slit his wrists and bled to death. He was only seventeen. After that, I left home. I was eighteen.”
    I look at Quindlan. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry. God, I wish …”
    “Things were different? Me too.”
    “I’m just so sick of Christians, or people who
call
themselves Christians, being so hateful,” I say. “They judge everyone who doesn’t fit into their stupid mold. So, if you’re different, if you’re gay, well, then it’s a sickness, a wrong choice, a sin. It’s so screwed up.”
    “I agree,” Quindlan says.
    “That night, before Will left, I got so angry. I challenged my father. I said, ‘What would you do if
I
was gay, Dad?’ He couldn’t even answer me.”
    “I understand, Noah. Some people choose their beliefs, no matter how wrong they are, over their own families.”
    “Yeah.” I look at Quindlan. “I’m really sorry about your brother.”
    “Thanks.”
    Suddenly I feel a stab of guilt, remembering how good it felt to punch TJ Dumont, watch him fall on his ass. All because he called me a queer. Why didn’t I just ignore the