Trailer Trash (18 page)

“So why do you want to go at all?”

Logan turned toward him, leaning his thigh against the long metal sink. “Because we’re seniors, man. This is it! Our last homecoming. Our last prom! This is the kind of shit we’ll be reminiscing about when we’re forty, rotting away in the nursing home.”

Cody laughed, finally plunging his hands into the blissfully warm water. “I think you have to be a lot older than forty to get into one of those places.”

“Whatever. You gonna come make a damn memory with me, or are you gonna sit on your stinking couch watching
Spenser: For Hire
?”

Cody sighed as he grabbed a sponge off the sideboard. He wasn’t used to having anybody ask him to do anything. He certainly wasn’t used to being coerced into school dances. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why’re you so determined to be my friend when you know the rest of the town hates me?”

Logan shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe ’cause you’re not an asshole, and there’s nobody else to talk to while I’m at work, and Jamie Simpson won’t give me the time of day. Is that enough of a reason for you?”

Cody smiled, despite himself. “I guess.” He felt around in the water, searching for the silverware at the bottom as he debated. He’d taken a chance once before, with Nate. Even now he couldn’t quite say if it had been worth it or not. “Do you think . . .” He stopped, considering his words while scrubbing a fork that was already plenty clean.

“Spit it out. Do I think what? Do I think you’re an idiot? Yes. Do I think you need a haircut? Yes. Do I think—”

“Do you think you could take me to Rock Springs on Saturday? Before the dance, I mean.”

“Sure. What for?”

“I need to get a coat.”

“Don’t you have a Sears catalog?”

Cody made himself say the words. “I can’t afford one of those. But there’s a secondhand store in Rock Springs—”

“No way, man.”

Cody winced. He’d hoped Logan wouldn’t laugh, but he hadn’t been expecting such a blatant refusal. “Okay. Sorry I asked.”

“No, I mean, no way do you need to go to that stupid store. Who knows where that shit comes from. I have at least eight coats in my closet that don’t fit me. Half of them ain’t even been worn yet. My grandma sends them all the time, but she keeps forgetting I’m not still twelve. I’ll bring you one of them, and then you can save your money for something cool.”

Cody glanced over at him. Not a bit of mockery in his eyes. Not a bit of pity, either. Just a matter-of-fact assessment of the situation. “I don’t mind paying—”

“Don’t be stupid. So, are we going or not?”

“To Rock Springs?”

“No! To homecoming.”

Cody shook his head, wondering how he’d ever gotten into such a ridiculous conversation. “Maybe.” He chewed his lip, debating. “Am I supposed to dress up or something?” Because if that was the case, he was screwed.

“Just wear your best jeans and a clean shirt.”

“You sure that’s good enough?”

“Which one of us has been to more school dances?”

“Fine.”

“Then I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.”

Cody turned back to his work, smiling down at the soapy water. “Whatever.” But as hard as he tried to act like he didn’t care, he did. He was filled with something that might almost have been happiness. “Just so you know, I don’t put out on the first date.”

“Good. Then there’s no reason to buy you a corsage.”

And just like that, Cody had a not-quite date for the dance.

If Nate thought he’d been miserable after his sexual encounter with Cody, it was nothing to how he felt after failing to feel anything with Christine.

He was different. He knew that now, without any doubt. After his mother’s betrayal, and his failed phone call to Cody, he’d locked himself in his room and debated simply climbing into his car and driving home to Austin.

It wouldn’t help. As much as he’d tried to convince himself that his shameful desire was somehow the result of Wyoming, he knew it wasn’t true. When he finally sat back and looked at it objectively, he could admit he’d never really been attracted to a girl at home, either. He’d watched other boys in the locker room on occasion. Usually, there hadn’t been anything erotic about it, but looking back, he began to take note of the times his heart had raced and his palms had grown damp at the sight of some boy undressing next to him. At the time, he’d chalked it up to nerves and self-consciousness. It had never progressed to anything more than that. But now, when Nate thought about those boys, and thought about how it might feel to touch them, he couldn’t deny the way it made him feel. In the clear, cold light of morning, he was able to admit something to himself he’d never realized before.

He was gay. Or queer. Or homosexual. He liked that term a bit better. But whatever anybody called it, the fact remained: he was far more attracted to males than to females.

And from there, it was easy to take the final leap.

He wanted Cody.

It was that simple. He was obsessed with Cody. Enamored of him. Maybe even in love with him. He fell asleep every night thinking about him, remembering how it had felt to kiss him, wondering if he’d ever have the chance to do it again. The thought of never again sharing that kind of intimacy made his heart ache.

But he didn’t have the faintest idea what to do about it.

Homecoming week arrived, and it seemed to be all anybody was talking about. Nate found himself avoiding Christine, as well as the Grove residents. He once again switched seats in social studies, choosing a desk in the front row on the right-hand side. He’d planted himself squarely in the middle of the Mormons, who all smiled nervously and said hello. He had classes with many of them, and they were always polite but distant.

Polite but distant suddenly felt like the greatest kindness in the world.

He heard the disturbance behind him as Cody and Logan came in. He’d bumped Logan’s entire row back a seat, which meant he’d have a harder time talking to Cody. That wasn’t why Nate had done it. He’d just wanted to get away from anybody who might talk to him about homecoming and sit in a place where he wouldn’t be tempted to stare at Cody the entire period but he figured breaking up Logan and Cody was an added bonus.

But he couldn’t bring himself to initiate contact with the object of his desire. He sat tense in his seat, listening to the quiet cadence of Cody’s voice as he talked to Logan. He secretly wished Logan would come down with a bad case of the mumps. He wasn’t even sure if the mumps were still a thing, but he didn’t care a bit. Anything that would ruin Logan’s perfect face for a few days at least, and get him away from Cody.

By Wednesday, the Mormons were talking to Nate, and inviting him to sit with them at lunch as if he were one of their own.

Nate had been vaguely aware of Mormonism back in Austin, but he’d always thought of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints as an odd little cult. The people he knew talked about Mormons with the same confused contempt they used when talking about Jehovah’s Witnesses or Hare Krishnas. But in Warren, Mormons were the majority. Easily more than half the town’s residents were technically members of the church, but most of them, including Cody and his mom, were what Cody called “Jack Mormons,” meaning they belonged to the church in name only.

The ones who were true Mormons—the ones who actually followed the church’s many rules—formed their own little clique. There were four of them with him in social studies: Stacy, Lisa, Grant, and Nephi. Nate was surprised to find they weren’t anywhere near as weird as he’d been led to believe. They didn’t drink, or swear, or smoke, but other than that, they seemed to be into all the same things the other teenagers were.

That night, Nate’s dad knocked on his bedroom door. “Seven o’clock,” he said as he poked his head in. “Time to call your mom.”

Nate was at his desk, doing math homework. His heart clenched. He couldn’t meet his father’s eyes. “I don’t want to talk to her.”

His dad didn’t respond. For several seconds, there was only silence, Nate staring blindly at his math book, his dad like a statue in the doorway. Finally, his dad spoke, his voice gentle. “I talked to her on Sunday, Nate. She said you called late Saturday night. She said—”

“I don’t want to talk to her!”

“You can’t avoid her forever, son.”

Nate put his pencil to paper, biting his lip, trying to direct his attention back to limits and differentiation. Trying not to think about whoever had answered the phone at his old house in Austin.

Eventually, his dad left, closing the door behind him.

The following afternoon, Lisa tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Are you going to homecoming on Saturday?”

Nate turned in his seat, hoping she wasn’t about to ask him on a date. “I don’t think so.”

But it was Stacy who spoke next. “You can come with us, if you want.”

“Yeah,” Grant said. “It’ll be fun. The guys are meeting at Adam Sullivan’s house at five. We’ll have pizza and watch a movie or something until the girls are ready. Then we’ll all head over together.”

Nate glanced cautiously back at Cody, who was studiously ignoring him, and Logan, whose long legs were stretched out into the aisle, his cowboy boots strangely at odds with his hot-pink polo shirt. Logan was glaring at him, and Nate averted his eyes quickly, remembering Logan’s threat to skin Nate alive if he fucked with Cody’s head.

Don’t worry, Logan. I’m too busy fucking with my own head, and Cody’s forgotten I exist anyway.

But despite everything—Cody and Logan, Nate’s wayward sexual desires, and his mom’s new boyfriend—Nate suddenly didn’t want to miss the dance. It was his senior year, after all, and going with a group seemed safe enough.

“Sure.” But his eyes lingered on Cody as he said it.

Not much chance of Cody being at homecoming.

He was in a good mood until he arrived home Friday afternoon and found a letter waiting for him in the mailbox. It was from Mike, and Nate stared at it for a moment, trying to decide what he felt.

On one hand, it was nice to know that Mike still thought about him enough to write a letter. On the other hand, Nate felt so detached from his old life, he almost wanted to throw the letter away unopened.

“Don’t be stupid,” he mumbled to himself. He dropped his backpack on the living room floor and took the letter upstairs before plopping down on the bed to read it.

Nate,

Hey, man. What’s up? Nobody’s heard from you since you moved to Wyoming. It must be more fun than you expected.

Our tennis team is awesome this year. Too bad you’re not here. We’re second in the division, and might even take state. I got my letter. I failed my math test because Ms. Carter is a bitch, but I was still eligible, so it’s cool.

Jason and Lisa broke up last week, right in the middle of
Top Gun
. They got kicked out of the movie theater and everything. It was totally embarrassing. And Tony went to homecoming with Carrie, but says he didn’t even get to first base. Have you had homecoming yet? Met any hot babes up there? According to David Lee Roth, farmer’s daughters make you feel “all right,” so at least you have that going for you, right? (And yeah, I know it was a Beach Boys song first, but David Lee Roth is way cooler.)

Speaking of cool, have you bought the Beastie Boys record yet? Check out the album cover in a mirror, if you haven’t already. They’re my new favorite band. My mom hates them, which makes it even better. You gotta fight for the right to party, know what I mean?

Guess that’s about it.

Write back soon.

Mike

Nate’s hands were shaking by the time he finished the letter. The tennis team was doing great without him, and his friends were going to movies and to homecoming and listening to music as if Nate weren’t stuck in the windiest version of Hell ever. Nate didn’t even care that Tony hadn’t made it to first base. To hell with Tony. Warren didn’t even have a movie theater. The closest Nate had gotten to
Top Gun
was seeing the commercials on TV. Some of the people from the Grove had driven to Casper to see it, but he hadn’t wanted to go with them, and he sure wasn’t going to go by himself. And as for the Beastie Boys . . .