True to You

  True to You

  Tony Correia

  James Lorimer & Company Ltd., Publishers

  Toronto

  For Mette Bach. Thanks for helping me rebuild Tara.

  01

  Principal’s Office

  As I wait outside Principal Shadrach’s door, I’m staring at the bandages on my hands. This is the third time I’ve been here in as many months. Dad enters the office, out of breath and wearing his apron from the shop.

  “I’m looking for Jorge Gomez,” he says to the secretary. He pronounces it like George but the G sound is softer.

  The secretary gestures in my direction. Dad grabs me by the shoulders. He looks me up and down for signs I am hurt.

  “What happened to your cheek?” he says.

  “It’s nothing.” I look away.

  “You look like you got hit by a truck!”

  Principal Shadrach pokes his head out of the door. “Mr. Gomez? Jorge? I’m ready to see you.” Mr. Shadrach offers Dad and I a seat. “I’m afraid Jorge got into another fight today.”

  “What happened this time?” Dad asks.

  “It seems Ian Adamson was picking on another student. Jorge took it upon himself to intervene,” Mr. Shadrach explains.

  “So Jorge was protecting another kid from a bully. Isn’t that your job?” Dad says.

  “I don’t deny Ian has been known to pick on weaker kids.”

  “Ian is a coward and a bully,” I say.

  Dad puts his hand on my knee to calm me down. “I know Jorge has been in a few scraps this year,” he says to the principal. “But every time he is, he’s protecting another kid.”

  “We can’t have a vigilante roaming the halls. I’m afraid I’m going to have to expel Jorge from school.”

  “Expel?” Dad and I say at the same time.

  “Jorge needs help with his anger issues,” Mr. Shadrach says.

  “My anger?” I say, getting out of my chair. “What about Ian?”

  “This is exactly what I’m talking about,” Mr. Shadrach says. “Jorge, you have a good heart. But you need to learn to control your temper. Mr. Gomez, I suggest you take your son to a counsellor. Help him figure out the causes of this behaviour.”

  “Are you calling Jorge psycho?”

  “Not in the least. But he needs tools that help him control himself when he gets upset. If a teacher hadn’t pulled him off Ian, Jorge could be facing an assault charge.”

  “That bad, huh?” Dad asks.

  “That bad,” Mr. Shadrach replies.

  Dad whistles. “I didn’t know you had it in you,” he says to me. “Thanks, Mr. Shadrach. Tell the principal you’re sorry, Jorge.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Shadrach.”

  “Don’t apologize to me,” the principal says. “Apologize to your parents. They’re the ones you’re hurting.”

  * * *

  I stand outside our van, waiting for Dad to unlock it.

  “Hold on a second,” he says. He pulls out his cigarettes.

  “Mom will kill you if she sees you with one of those.”

  “Yeah, we know where you get your temper from. She’s going to hit the roof when she finds out you’ve been expelled.” Dad lights the cigarette and takes a deep breath. “What is with you, Jorge? You’ve been as quiet as churchmouse for seventeen years. And now you’re punching everything that moves.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes it is. I know what your principal was talking about. Your mother has noticed it too. It’s like a light switch. All at once you go to this dark place. It’s scary.”

  It’s hard to hear Dad say this. I don’t have a lot of friends. Dad is like a buddy to me.

  “Is it your grades?” Dad asks. “We can hire a tutor if you’re worried about getting into college.”

  “I’m not going to college,” I tell him.

  “Don’t be like that.”

  “Books and numbers aren’t my thing. And what for? I’m fine working at the store with you and mom.”

  “Then why are you so moody? What are you trying to prove?”

  I hadn’t been able bring myself to say it.

  “Are you ashamed of something?” Dad pushed.

  “Sort of. It’s not as bad as you might think. But it’s not what I wanted for myself.”

  “Jorge, if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I can’t help you.”

  I walk away from the van. Dad follows me.

  “Dad, I think I’m gay.”

  “But you’re the straightest guy I know.” He looks confused. “Is this why you beat the crap out of Ian Adamson?”

  “I think I would have done that if I was straight. It’s not like I want to be gay. But it’s like fighting bullies is the only thing I have control of anymore.”

  “That explains a lot, actually.”

  “Do you hate me?”

  “Of course not. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little sad. It’s not going to be easy for you. But I don’t hate you. And your mother won’t either, I promise you that. But you need to control your emotions. If you can’t, you’re going to be really popular in prison. Come here. Give me a hug.”

  The hug is awkward but heartfelt.

  “You know Mom is going to smell the smoke on your clothes, right?” I say to him.

  “She’s not going to care when I tell her you were expelled.”

  02

  Kid Romeo

  The parking lot lights look like spongy white balls through the foggy windshield as I drive up. The warehouse is in an industrial park. You know, the kind you pass along the highway on your way to someplace else. Each unit is marked by a glass door next to a loading bay.

  There’s no sign or even a sandwich board. I squint to compare the peeling black numbers on the glass door to the Google map I printed. The numbers match. This is it: The School of Hard Knocks.

  A doorbell buzzes as the glass door closes behind me, like I’m entering a corner store. I poke my head through the doorway on my right. There’s a beat-up old wrestling ring beneath bright florescent lights. The ropes are wrapped with electrical tape. The padding covering the corner turnbuckles are ripped in places. A muscular bald man is leading a girl and three guys through some stretches.

  “Hey, Romeo,” the girl says, getting the bald man’s attention. She points to me.

  I wave at them like I don’t understand English.

  “Jorge?” the man asks me.

  “That’s me. Kid Romeo?” I ask, hoping my voice doesn’t crack.

  “Kid Romeo to my friends. Romeo Stallone to my enemies. I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

  “It’s dark. This place is hard to find.”

  Romeo vaults over the top rope like a superhero. He lands firmly on the padded floor in front of me and calls over his shoulder. “Arshdeep! Finish the warmup for me while I show Jorge around.”

  Romeo takes me into his office. The walls are covered with wrestling posters that go as far back as the eighties.

  “What kind of name is Jorge? Mexican?”

  “Portuguese,” I say, looking around. “Is that you?” I ask, pointing at one of the posters.

  “Yeah. I wasn’t much older than you are now when that picture was taken,” Romeo says.

  “My dad used to watch you on All Star Wrestling.”

  “You’re making me feel old. Did your parents sign the permission slip I emailed you?”

  I fish the folded paper from my backpack and hand it to Romeo. He scans the form and then puts it on a desk cluttered with posters and receipts.

  “I’ll call your
parents tomorrow to make sure you didn’t forge their names,” Romeo says. “Get dressed and meet me back in the ring.”

  “Where do I change?” I ask.

  “Right here. But leave your bag in the gym where you can keep an eye on it,” Romeo says.

  * * *

  I pull myself up to the ring apron and step into the ring. I bounce up and down like it’s the surface of the moon.

  “Feels like coming home doesn’t it?” Romeo says.

  “It does,” I say.

  “Let me introduce you to the family,” Romeo says. “This ugly thing here is Troll. That’s his girlfriend, Brittany. The guy who looks like a totem pole is Thunder. And that dark hulk over there is Arshdeep. Everybody, this is George with a J.”

  The other students nod and mumble hello.

  “Be nice to him. I need the money,” Romeo says. “Everyone line up in the corner. We’re going to run the ropes.”

  I fall in line behind the other wrestlers. I watch as Thunder throws himself into the ropes and lets them propel him across the ring. He does this ten times before he tags in Troll.

  Running the ropes takes more coordination than it seems. You have to spin around at just the right time, and remember to grab the top rope so you don’t fall out of the ring. The ropes aren’t stretchy. They feel like steel cables when you bounce off them. On my last try, I hook my right foot on the bottom rope and fall flat on my face.

  “Ouch,” I say into the ring apron.

  “Stop worrying about how you look. You’ll get it in no time,” Romeo says. “Now meet Thunder and me outside the ring on the mats.”

  Romeo holds the ropes open for me to step out of the ring. Thunder is already waiting on the wrestling mats.

  “Now I’m going to take you through the basics of a wrestling match,” Romeo says. “Remember, pro wrestling is like real life. The bad guy — we call him the Heel — always cheats to win. The good guy, or the Face, always plays by the rules. The Face takes control of the match to start, and then the Heel gets the upper hand by cheating. And just when the Face starts to make his comeback and looks like he’s going to win the match, the Heel uses a dirty trick to steal the victory.”

  “Wow. That is just like real life,” I say.

  “I know, right? Now you’re going to learn the collar-and-elbow lockup. If this doesn’t look good, then you’ve lost the marks before the match has even started. A mark is someone who takes their wrestling very seriously,” Romeo explains. “They come to all the shows and read all the blogs. You need to pay attention to them, just as much as you need to pay attention to what’s going on in the ring.”

  Romeo takes me through a collar-and-elbow lockup. He places my left hand on Thunder’s elbow and my right hand behind his neck. Thunder and I practise a few times. We clunk heads once. It hurts like hell.

  Once Romeo is convinced I’ve mastered the move, he shows me how to put Thunder into a headlock and flip him onto the mat.

  “Make sure your heels hit the mat flat or you’re going to screw up your ankles,” Romeo warns me.

  Thunder and I move in and pretend to jockey for control. Thunder reeks of sweat. Without warning, he flips me over onto the mat. My heels crash into the rubber, sending lightning rods of pain up my legs.

  “That’s not what I told you to do!” Romeo says to Thunder. “You practically smashed Jorge’s ankles into the ground!”

  “I’m fine,” I say.

  The session ends with the other students doing a practice match. They tag each other in when they get tired. Romeo and I sit on the bleachers and watch the action in the ring.

  “So what did you think?” Romeo asks.

  “That was the most fun I’ve had in my life,” I say.

  “Then let me be the first to welcome you to the Canadian Pacific Wrestling Federation.” Romeo smiles and slaps me on the shoulder.

  03

  Cloverdale

  Part of training to become a pro wrestler is helping set up and take down the shows. The Cloverdale show is the first show since I started training at the School of Hard Knocks. To make a good impression, I begged my parents to give me the day off work from the store and to let me borrow the store van.

  I get up at the crack of dawn. Arshdeep and I have to transport the ring to the Cloverdale Fairgrounds. We have become fast friends since I started training. We’ve been lifting weights together and training in the ring on our own time whenever we can. The extra practice has done wonders for my confidence.

  “Have you thought about your gimmick for the student show yet?” Arshdeep asks.

  “It’s all I think about. Every idea I have has been done a million times over: a Mountie, a fireman, a businessman . . .”

  “Dude, those are gimmicks for strippers.”

  “I want to come up with a gimmick that doesn’t age. Like John Cena.”

  “Don’t make yourself nuts about it. The whole point of a student show is to try things out.”

  “I’m really nervous about talking into the mic before the match,” I confess.

  “I hate to say it, bro. But you’re really awful at trash talk.”

  “I can’t help it. I used to stutter as a kid.”

  “Talking trash is like running the ropes. If you think about it too much you’ll trip and fall.”

  “What’s your gimmick?”

  “I’m a hot South Asian guy. Can’t you tell?”

  Yeah. I could.

  “I started out as a terrorist but my dad put his foot down.”

  “He didn’t want you to support stereotypes?”

  “Yeah. And we’re Sikh.”

  “Hey, Lion’s Gate Wrestling is having a show next week at The Wise Hall. Want to go?”

  Lions Gate Wrestling is the other local wrestling federation. I looked into training with them, but it was too expensive.

  “Sure,” says Arshdeep. “But don’t tell Romeo. He can’t stand Ricky Flamingo.”

  “I got that impression. What’s the deal?”

  “A long time ago, in a wrestling ring far, far, away, Ricky Flamingo trained at the School of Hard Knocks. Romeo took Ricky under his wing and showed him everything he knew about the business. Then as soon as he could, Ricky started his own fed, and poached Romeo’s best wrestler Kyle O’Malley.”

  “Romeo trained Kyle O’Malley?” Kyle O’Malley is a god in the indy circuit.

  “You wouldn’t know it from LGW’s website. He’s the poster child for their school.”

  “I wanted to train there for that reason.”

  “If you ever want Romeo to give you a hundred push-ups, tell him that.”

  * * *

  It takes Romeo, Arshdeep, Troll, Brittany and me most of the day to set up the ring. Thunder shows up just as we’re putting on the finishing touches. The first thing Thunder does when he enters the auditorium is jump into the ring and start running the ropes.

  “Get your lazy butt out of that ring!” Romeo shouts. “You don’t pitch in, you don’t get to show off.”

  “But I’m practically a worker,” Thunder says. He thinks he’s such a star. “I shouldn’t have to help set up.”

  “You’re not a worker until you make your debut,” Romeo tells him. “Now get out of my ring. The rest of you relax before the show.”

  Arshdeep and I wander off to the concession stand. A good-looking black guy behind the counter is counting cash for the till. He looks about my age. His plaid shirt is so clean and crisp it could have come right from the store.

  I watch him as he sweeps one loonie at a time from the counter into the palm of his hand. It’s hypnotic. His lips move as he adds up the pile. I imagine what it would be like to kiss them.

  “Is it too early to get a Coke?” Arshdeep’s voice brings both the cashier and me back to reality.

  “You made me lose my count,” t
he guy says. He looks like he’s about to give Arshdeep the what for. But his eyes meet mine and his face relaxes into a smile.

  I look away, embarrassed. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt you,” I say.

  “So can we get a Coke or not?” Arshdeep asks.

  “Sure thing,” he says. He puts the till in the cash register and goes to pour us each a Coke. “I have to change the syrup. I’ll be right back.”

  Once he leaves, Arshdeep says to me, “That guy was totally checking you out, bro.”

  “What?”

  “That guy wants to have sex with you. Didn’t you see the way he was looking at you?”

  “Your blood sugar must be low. You’re imagining things, Arshdeep.”

  The guy comes back and pours us two cups of Coke. “On the house,” he says. “I saw how hard you guys were working.”

  His hand touches mine when he gives me my Coke. I can feel myself blushing. This is stupid. What are the odds of meeting another gay guy in Cloverdale? Crazier still, what are the odds of a guy this good-looking being attracted to me?

  “Are you two wrestling tonight?” he asks.

  I’m too nervous to speak.

  “We’re still training,” Arshdeep tells him. “But we’re doing a student show next week. You should come check it out. It’s Jorge’s first match.”

  “Sounds like fun. George is your name?” he asks me.

  “With a J. Like Jesus,” Arshdeep answers. He is loving this. I want to punch him, not to hurt him, but to make him stop.

  “I’m Thom,” the guy behind the counter says.

  “Pleased to meet you. I’m Arshdeep. If you’re interested in coming to our show, you can find the event on Facebook. Look for the School of Hard Knocks.”

  “I’ll do that,” Thom says.

  We take our Cokes and walk toward the bleachers. Arshdeep can’t stop laughing. I elbow him to get him to stop. But he only laughs harder.

  “It’s not funny,” I tell him.

  “It’s perfect. You haven’t stepped in the ring and you already have a fan.”

  I look back at Thom. He’s still staring and smiling. Without even thinking, I smile back and wave.