by Marie Sexton
“But, you know,” Logan said quietly, interrupting Cody’s thoughts, “just out of curiosity, you don’t have the hots for Jamie, do you?”
Cody laughed, confident that in this at least, he could speak the truth. “No. As far as I’m concerned, Jamie Simpson is all yours.”
“From your lips to God’s ears, my friend.”
Over the first few weeks of the school year, Nate seemed to see less and less of Cody, and more and more of the people from the Grove.
He didn’t like them. It didn’t take him long to figure that out. Yes, in some ways they were more like him than Cody was, but there was a rebelliousness there that made him uncomfortable. And despite his dad’s claim that there was a rich Asian history in the area, nobody would guess it by looking at the inhabitants. With the exception of one Hispanic family, every single kid at Walter Warren High School was Caucasian. Nate thought no racial tension should have meant no racism, but the Orange Grove residents displayed a casual prejudice toward anybody who wasn’t white, as well as toward anybody who lived in the trailer park.
Nate had never heard so many racist jokes in his life.
There was also way too much sex. Nate was a virgin. He’d had a couple of awkward make-out sessions with girls back home, but he’d never felt compelled to test the girls’ boundaries by sliding his hand into their shirts or down their pants. The kissing had never exactly felt right, and he assumed someday he’d meet a girl who did feel right. Until then, he figured he’d have to wait.
Except suddenly here he was, in the windblown boonies of Wyoming, with girls coming on to him in ways they never had back home. Christine Lucero and Jennifer Parker both made their interest in him quite clear. It should have been flattering—maybe even arousing—but it wasn’t. He’d been embarrassingly familiar with his right hand back in Texas, but since moving to Warren, even masturbation didn’t appeal to him the way it used to.
And the sex was only the beginning. There was more alcohol than he was used to. More marijuana. More of everything. Two weeks into the school year, he let Brian and Brad drag him to a party in the Grove. It was at Jennifer Carrington’s house, because her parents were out of town, but Nate had a feeling the gathering hadn’t been her idea. He could tell by the way she rushed around putting coasters under drinks and telling people not to smoke that she was nervous about her parents finding out.
Nate downed a beer and was handed another. Logan and a couple of jocks were playing quarters on the coffee table with three of the cheerleaders. Another group was stair surfing. The entire room was sweet with the tang of marijuana. Three boys in the corner were laughingly contemplating the possibility of burning down one of the haystacks in a field outside of town.
“What if the whole field burns down?”
“That’d be rad!”
Nate walked on.
He found a small group in one of the bedrooms, gathered around a dresser. Brian and Brad, plus another guy and a girl who Nate had seen at school but didn’t know. Brian glanced up as Nate walked in, then smiled.
“Hey, man. Just in time. I swiped this from my dad’s dresser this morning.”
“Won’t he notice?” the girl asked.
“He never has before.”
Nate assumed it was pornography of some kind, and he moved closer, trying to get a glimpse between the bodies. But what he saw made him stop short.
It was a marble cutting board with white powder already sorted into neat little lines. “Cocaine?” he said, stunned.
“Shh!” they all said at once, turning toward him, and Nate felt his cheeks begin to burn. He’d seen cocaine in movies and on TV, but at a party? No. None of his friends in Texas had ever even considered it. But once again, here in Wyoming, he found himself the odd man out, feeling like the lone prude in a group that seemed to know far more about the world than he did.
Didn’t they even care that his dad was a cop?
He waited until they’d all turned back to the tray before ducking out of the room. He left his half-full beer on the coffee table and walked home. Brian and Brad cornered him the next Monday in school, wanting him to promise that he wasn’t planning to tell his dad.
“It’s not a big deal,” Brian told him. “Just keep it to yourself, all right?”
“Of course,” Nate promised. He had no desire to cause trouble. But he had no desire to get into trouble, either, and when his dad told him a few days later that somebody had lit a haystack on fire and inadvertently destroyed two fields and killed a couple dozen head of cattle in the process, Nate bit his tongue, not wanting to tell his dad he knew who’d done it.
His conscience nagged at him, though. Burning down fields and killing cattle wasn’t a victimless prank. It was a serious blow to some poor rancher’s livelihood, and Nate vowed to distance himself from the Orange Grove group as much as possible. By the time October rolled around, he was looking for excuses to avoid Brian and Brad. He didn’t want to be one of them. What he wanted was to be with Cody, but Cody had become inaccessible. On several different occasions, Nate wandered into the field, looking for him, but Cody was never there. Nate found only their deck of playing cards, wrapped in a plastic baggie to keep it dry, tucked into the corner of the wagon. In social studies, Cody always sat by the door, although these days, he talked to Logan more than he talked to the rest of the student body put together.
Jealousy burned in Nate’s chest every time he saw them with their heads together in class. Everybody liked Logan except Nate, leaving him the odd man out again.
Once, Nate tried waiting outside the classroom, determined to stop Cody at the door. He planned to tell Cody that he was sorry, that he’d rather be friends with him than any of the Orange Grove residents, but Cody arrived next to Logan, so lost in conversation that he didn’t even notice Nate standing there, and Nate hung his head in defeat as he made his way to his desk. Cody didn’t even look his way, although Logan gave Nate a look he couldn’t quite interpret.
When class ended, Nate gathered his books as fast as he could, but he couldn’t get past the crush of students in order to reach Cody in time. He stepped into the hallway, looking both ways, trying to see which direction Cody had gone.
He caught a glimpse of black hair a few yards away, but he only made it three steps before he was stopped short by Christine Lucero.
“Hey, Nate. We’re having a party on Friday at Jimmy Riordan’s. You want to come with me?”
It was the third time she’d invited him to a party with her. The first had been to a gathering at the mine, with the Grove residents. The second party had been at the rock quarry, with the cowboys. Nate had declined both times, confident he’d be horribly out of place. But this one would be at Jimmy’s place. Nate knew who Jimmy Riordan was, even though the only classes they had together were PE and social studies. Jimmy lived in the trailer park. He was one of the “burnouts,” as Cody called him, often ditching class to smoke cigarettes in the parking lot, but he seemed like a nice enough guy.
Nate hesitated, contemplating. Would Cody be there?
“Sure,” he said, as noncommittal as he could manage. “Maybe. I’ll have to see.”
“It’ll be cool, I promise.”
She touched his arm before walking away, and Nate watched her go, sure the exaggerated sway of her hips was just for him. She glanced over her shoulder once, blushing when she caught him still looking at her.
“You know she puts out, right?” Brian said from behind him.
Nate jumped, wishing he’d seen Brian coming so he could avoid him. “That’s what I’ve heard.”
“It’s true, man. She doesn’t even make you work for it. I went to her house last week. Wasn’t even inside five minutes before she was in my lap.”
His triumphant grin filled Nate with a deep sense of shame, and a fair amount of sympathy for Christine. “Show me a girl who can’t say no, and I’ll show you a girl who’s spent too many birthdays waiting for her daddy to come home.”
Brian blinke
d at him, his brow wrinkling, but only for a moment. Then he laughed. “Show me a girl who can’t say no, and I’ll ask her to homecoming.”
That night, Nate dreamed of Christine Lucero.
She was in his bedroom. He didn’t know how, or why, but she was in his bed, in his arms, lying beneath him.
Nate kissed her, thinking even as he did it how he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He thought about all the guys who had kissed her before him. Brian and Brad, and God only knew who else. But it didn’t matter. Nate was hard and ready, and he didn’t necessarily want what they were doing to stop. He just wished it was with somebody else. Like maybe Jennifer Parker. Or Jennifer Carrington. Or Amy Prescott. Or maybe Cody.
Cody?
He saw Cody’s smile. He heard Cody’s laughter in his ears. And suddenly, that’s who was under him. Cody gave him that secret smile Nate suspected only he had ever seen. He was laughing at Nate, yet somehow encouraging him too—an invitation in his dark eyes that made Nate ache in the most wonderful, erotic way. Cody was perfection, so sweet and sexy and shy and unapologetic, all at the same time, and Nate wanted him in a way that made no sense whatsoever.
He kissed him. He pulled Cody close and pushed slowly inside of him.
It was strange, because in his dream, Cody was like a girl down there, and Nate knew that wasn’t right, but he also knew he didn’t care. However things were fitting together below the waist didn’t matter nearly as much as how it made him feel. And God, it felt good. Cody felt good. Somehow in Nate’s dream, he was kissing Cody, but still seeing his face, seeing the way his neck arched as he threw his head back, feeling the length of Cody’s body against his, thrusting into him again and again—
It peaked far too soon.
The intensity of it woke him, breathless and panting, still pushing against his mattress as he came. He didn’t want to leave the dream behind, and he held on to the image of Cody underneath him. He lay there in the sticky pool of his own mess, his body still thrumming from the strength of his orgasm, remembering how it had felt to kiss Cody. It had felt like a miracle. Like an epiphany. Like a revelation.
It scared the hell out of him.
It was time to face reality. He rolled over and looked at his clock. It was 7:04. In a minute he’d have to get up and do something about his stained sheets before he went to school. And at school he’d have to deal with the Grove group. And Christine.
And Cody.
His dream left him feeling edgy and spacey and uncomfortable. He was halfway relieved when Cody continued to avoid him, but he found himself searching the rows of lockers again as he hadn’t done since the first week of school, hoping to catch a glimpse of his thick, black hair. Hoping to hear his laugh echo through the halls. Not that Cody laughed much at school, and if he did, it was bound to be at something Logan said.
Still.
He desperately wanted to see him.
Nate raced to his locker before last period, determined to get to social studies early so he could grab a desk next to Cody. Who cared that nobody switched seats in that class? He was sick of being stuck with the Orange Grove assholes. He swapped textbooks and stopped to check his hair in the mirror on the inside of his locker door.
“Hey, Nate.” It was Christine again. She moved to stand between him and his open locker.
“Uh . . . Hey.” He glanced toward social studies, trying to see if Cody was there yet, but couldn’t see much past the crush of people.
“Listen, about tonight. Jimmy’s mom changed her plans, so party’s off.”
That was something of a relief, actually. “Okay.”
“But I might go out to the quarry with Tom Watson and Lance Donaldson. You want to come with me?”
“I can’t. Really. Thanks for the invite.” He backed away, hoping she’d get the message and move so he could close his locker door. “I appreciate it, but I don’t really know those guys—”
“That’s okay. You could still—”
“Look, I’ve gotta go. I’m sorry. Maybe next time?”
“Oh. Sure.” She finally moved aside, letting him slam the metal door shut. “See you around.”
He raced for social studies, but it didn’t do him any good. Cody was already in his seat, as was everybody else. Nate’s usual seat was open. There were always a few open desks because there weren’t enough students in the class to fill them all, and Nate took one near the back, but on the opposite side of the room as Cody. It was the only open desk that allowed him to see Cody without turning around in his seat. He ignored the confused looks of the Orange Grove group as the bell rang, and class began.
They were studying the end of World War II, and Mrs. Simmons was babbling on about the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and the Marshall Plan, but Nate didn’t hear any of it. He was two rows back and three over from Cody, giving Nate a side view of the back of his head. When Cody looked at his textbook, he tipped his head down, and his thick, black hair fell forward, hiding his face from view. When he was listening to the teacher, he turned slightly Nate’s way, allowing Nate to see his cheek and the shell of his ear. And when Cody leaned across the aisle to talk to Logan, his T-shirt rode up in the back, giving Nate a brief glimpse of the pale skin above his waistband.
Nate found that expanse of exposed flesh intriguing. He imagined touching it, maybe running his hand up the inside of Cody’s shirt.
Cody went back to listening to Mrs. Simmons, and Nate propped his chin in his hand, studying the lines of Cody’s neck, analyzing the way his shoulders hunched when the teacher looked his way, and the way they relaxed again when the teacher moved on. Nate thought about his dream. In the bright light of day, it seemed hazy and surreal, but he could still remember the exact look on Cody’s face as they’d kissed.
Nate’s stomach fluttered a bit at the thought, and he felt a familiar twinge of arousal in his groin.
It made him uncomfortable, realizing he was thinking about his best friend in such a blatantly sexual way. Cody wasn’t supposed to make him feel like this. Cody wasn’t supposed to turn him on. But watching Cody now, seeing the tender curve of his neck, the smooth line where it met his shoulder, Nate had the undeniable urge to run his fingertips over that bit of skin. He wanted to explore it with his lips and his tongue, to see if Cody made the same sounds in real life as he did in Nate’s dream.
The possibility made him breathless.
“Mr. Bradford!”
Mrs. Simmons had the annoying habit of addressing everybody by their last names, so Nate didn’t realize the teacher was addressing him until the student next to him kicked his chair and hissed, “That’s you, dumbass!”
Nate jumped. Mrs. Simmons was looking right at him, her fists on her expansive hips and her eyebrows up.
“Yes?” Nate felt his cheeks burning. He risked a glance Cody’s way. Cody’s eyes were determinedly glued to his textbook. Logan, on the other hand, was staring at Nate with obvious puzzlement and more than a bit of amusement. “I’m sorry. What was the question?”
“We’re talking about the Servicemen’s Readjustment Act of 1944, otherwise known as . . .”
“Uh, the GI Bill?”
“And what was the purpose of this bill?”
“To help soldiers returning from the war buy houses and go to college and, uh, stuff like that.”
“Yes, ‘stuff like that.’” Mrs. Simmons almost smiled. “You don’t pay attention in class, but at least I know you did the reading.”
She moved on, letting Nate off the hook.
And Nate went back to studying the perfect curve of Cody’s neck.
Nate ventured out to the field on Friday night, but once again found the wagon empty. He spent the rest of the evening watching TV with his dad. He checked the field again three times on Saturday, but Cody wasn’t there.
Where the hell could he be? He wouldn’t go to the rock quarry or the mine. He wasn’t in the field. It was possible he was sitting at home by himself, but Nate dismissed that possibility, not becau
se it was unlikely, but because he hoped it was wrong. After all, he still had no idea where Cody lived, so the only chance he had of finding him was if Cody was somewhere other than home.
It wasn’t until he was driving back to Orange Grove and spotted Logan’s Camaro in the parking lot of the bowling alley that Nate realized how stupid he’d been. Hadn’t Cody told him the bowling alley was the only hangout he’d go to? And if Logan was here, Cody probably was too.
Nate tried not to be nervous as he stepped inside.
The bowling alley smelled like every bowling alley Nate had ever been in, except more so, the foul odors condensed in the relatively small space. Sweaty feet, disinfectant spray, and stale beer, undercut by the tantalizing aroma of hamburgers and the acrid tang of lots of cigarette smoke. There were only three lanes, two of them being used by a group of adults. A chain of empty beer bottles lined the counter behind them. To the right of the door was the shoe rental counter. The employee working it took one look at Nate and went back to reading his Mad magazine. To Nate’s left was the source of the more pleasant aromas—a food counter, with a pegboard menu boasting burgers, hot dogs, and chili-cheese fries. And just past that, Nate found the other high school students. They were lounging around a half-dozen tables that trailed from the makeshift café to the half-assed arcade in the corner.
Nate approached slowly, his heart sinking. He couldn’t picture Cody here, and his eyes skipped from face to face, confirming what he’d already suspected. No Cody. The few people who bothered to notice his arrival quickly dismissed him.
All but one.
Logan maintained eye contact, and Nate shifted from one foot to the other, debating. The obvious answer was just to ask Logan, but Logan wasn’t alone. Larry Lucero, Amy Prescott, and Jimmy Riordan were with him. Their conversation died as Nate edged closer.
“You look a bit lost,” Logan said, although his tone was friendly enough.
“Yeah.” Nate glanced at the others, wishing they’d all find something else to occupy their attention, but their eyes were glued on him. “I’m looking for Cody.”