In the Desert

by Elliot Joyce

  Wren found himself without an answer. He didn’t feel like he should be at a Boy Scouts meeting. He had barely talked to anyone, and it wasn’t like Chris wanted him there in the first place.

  On the other hand, since when had he given a damn what his little brother thought?

  “Sure, if you guys let me show up again,” Wren replied.

  Felipe grinned and laughed. “Nah, you’re cool. Chris complains about his sis—siblings all the time, but you seem all right.”

  Wren pretended that Felipe’s almost-mistake had passed by without being noticed. It was the first time the entire meeting that anyone had made a direct comment about who Wren was, and even then, it seemed like a genuine mistake.

  “Plus you’re actually my age. Chris is chill, but he’s so young.”

  “How old are you? And how old do you think I am?” Wren asked, out of curiosity more than anything.

  “I’m seventeen, and you’re at least that old or older,” Felipe replied without hesitation.

  “Oh,” Wren said, caught off-balance for the second time by Felipe.

  “Was I wrong?” Was it just Wren, or was Felipe teasing him? Was it wrong to look for ulterior motives in a near-stranger’s speech patterns? Probably. Wren figured he was just seeing things anyway.

  “No.” Before Wren could say anything else, though, Chris appeared out of mass of Boy Scouts who were helping themselves to the last of the snacks. “Is Dad here?” Wren asked.

  Chris nodded and glanced at Felipe, then did a double take. “Oh, hey, I didn’t think you were here. Have you been talking to him all night?”

  “No, we just talked a little before the meeting started.” Felipe shrugged. “Is there any Fanta left?” The fact that he was so casual made Wren certain there was nothing there, just a nice person trying to make the new guy feel a little less out of place. It was appreciated, but it would be stupid for Wren to think that anything else was possible.

  Besides, you’re at Boy Scouts. Everyone here is straight. Well, except for you.

  “I dunno. Better hurry. I think Travis is getting bored.” Chris moved out of the way and motioned at the boy in question. Travis was currently stacking cans while Kyle gave him pointers.

  “Cool. Nice meeting you, Wren. See you two around.” Without waiting for a reply, Felipe left.

  Chris pulled out his phone and rolled his eyes. In his pocket, Wren felt his own phone vibrate. “Come on. Dad’s telling us to hurry. He wants to leave so we can be asleep by eleven,” Chris said.

  Wren held back the urge to slug Chris in the shoulder as the two of them left, instead choosing to adjust his jacket and follow Chris out of the house. Once they got outside, they took a moment to find Dad’s car. Wren spotted it first and pointed to it with a grin. It had always been a bit of a stupid competition, trying to find Mom or Dad first in a crowd of people. That didn’t mean the two of them stopped taking it seriously, no matter how old they got.

  “Nobody messed with you, right?” Chris asked as they walked over to the Prius.

  “What?” Wren turned and squinted at Chris, trying to see if he was just pulling his leg and fully ready to check him into a nearby tree if that was the case.

  “Just, like, they’re all cool, but they’re used to me calling you my sister and stuff. I just wanted to make sure nobody gave you any problems.”

  It was such an honest, nice thing to say that Wren almost stepped into the gutter and twisted his ankle out of surprise. He recovered with a bit of flailing about, ignoring the utterly unimpressed look Chris gave him.

  “I take it back. I care nothing for your well-being and hope that next time you fall in and die,” Chris said.

  “Nope, too late!” Wren was going to lord this over him for as long as he could. “You actually do care about me. Ha! That means I win.”

  “Win what?”

  “Everything!” Forget could, Wren was going to lord this over Chris until he died.

  WREN KNEW Chris didn’t actually mind camping. In fact, his initial distaste back when he was ten had morphed into excitement over the last six years. It was strange and a little weird to see Chris, who spent most days glued to his phone and used Snapchat religiously, be full of anticipation about going somewhere he’d have next to no coverage and no Wi-Fi, but now it was to be expected. Just like how August enjoyed going to the comic-book store every weekend, or how Blair could sing every lyric to her favorite K-Pop band’s songs in Korean, Chris reminded their dad constantly about upcoming camping trips.

  “I’m gonna need new socks,” Chris said on their way home from school not two days after the Boy Scouts meeting.

  “Why? Did your smelly feet ruin them already?” August asked immediately. Blair burst out into laughter, kicking her legs and hitting the back of Wren’s seat.

  “Stop that,” Wren said.

  Blair made a face and, checking that Dad wasn’t looking, stuck her tongue out. Not for the first time, Wren reminded himself that she was only twelve and was allowed to do stupid things.

  “Chris has smelly feet,” August sang out, pointing her phone at him. Wren wondered if she was taking a Snapchat or just recording him to be obnoxious.

  “Shut up,” Chris told her, glaring. “I need warmer ones ’cause it’s colder up there and my current ones are trash.”

  “They’re trash ’cause your feet are too big and too smelly,” August shot back, putting her phone back in her lap.

  Wren glanced at her screen and saw that it was, indeed, a Snapchat. He was thankful he had refused to add any of his siblings. He saw enough of them in real life.

  “No fighting in the car,” Dad told both of them, looking into the rearview mirror.

  Wren sighed and looked out the window, glad he wasn’t stuck in the back with his siblings. Oldest of four had to get some privileges.

  “What’s for dinner?” Blair asked, leaning forward a little. She had convinced Mom to let her get her hair cut like her favorite K-Pop star and now her bangs kept getting in her face. Wren thought it looked okay, but he couldn’t help but feel a little angry every time he thought too much about it. When he had asked to get his hair cut, Mom had cried. It was shorter, now, but it had taken him far longer than it should have.

  “Your mother is making lasagna,” Dad said, then swore as someone cut him off.

  “Bad word,” Blair told him.

  “Yes, sorry.” Dad glanced back to make sure no one was in his way as he changed lanes.

  Wren wondered if he should be paying more attention, seeing as he had to get his license soon, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It wasn’t like he’d have a car anyways.

  “Is she making real lasagna or fake lasagna?” Chris asked.

  “All lasagna is real lasagna,” August replied in her best serious voice.

  “You’re full of shit,” Chris told her.

  “Bad word!” Blair shouted with glee.

  “No fighting in the car,” Wren told them all in a moment that made him highly question his life decisions up to that point. Oh God, he thought. I’m turning into my father.

  Dad gave him a thankful look that made Wren feel a little better, because if he was going to slowly turn into a dad, he might as well turn into his dad. It could be worse, after all.

  “Your mother is making vegan lasagna,” Dad clarified.

  All four of the siblings groaned, and Blair actually began to hit her head against the window.

  “Blair, don’t do that. You’ll make your head hurt. And don’t give me that face, Christopher. Your mother works hard to feed us all, and you will show your appreciation.” Then, softer so Wren could only barely hear him, he added, “I hope she doesn’t use the soy cheese.”

  Wren decided he was done with this conversation. He fished into his pocket, pulled his earbuds out, and slipped them into his ears, letting his music drown out the sound of his siblings having another petty argument. Only ten more minutes until we’re home.

  At dinner, Chris talked all about
the photos Nico would take and how they always came out wonderful. He did this while they “ate” Mom’s latest attempt at vegan lasagna. Really all four of the kids were trying to pass their food off to the dog. Even Tary the terrier didn’t want anything to do with it and eventually trotted off to go gnaw on his bone, leaving the siblings to actually eat dinner.

  Or at least try, with various levels of success.

  “Nico said he got a new camera so I’m psyched,” Chris said. “We’re gonna go hiking, maybe convince someone to take us fishing in the lake.” He took the smallest, most painful bite of fake lasagna that Wren had ever seen. “Did you meet Nico, bro?”

  Wren thought he met someone named Nico at the meeting. He could also have met someone named Rico or Nicholas or any other name, he couldn’t remember. He did remember Felipe, but he told himself that was because Felipe had bothered to talk to him. Not because Wren couldn’t get those eyes out of his head. That would be stupid.

  He shrugged and ate his food, swallowing it like the mature adult he definitely was not.

  “Are you gonna spam the rest of us on Insta with photos? Isn’t the point of going camping to get off your phone?” August asked, a total hypocrite since she was practically glued to hers all the time. Wren still vividly remembered the argument that she and Mom had gotten into over whether or not she could have her phone in her bedroom when it was night. Mom had won, but August had pouted like a five-year-old the whole time.

  “They’re works of art, first off, and you’re only asking because you wanna see Nico put another shirtless picture up,” Chris said.

  “Ew! Your friend’s, like, your age,” August complained, making a face.

  “No fighting at the table,” Dad said firmly.

  “How are you going to get there?” Mom asked Chris, changing the subject. “Is, oh, what’s-his-name driving again?”

  “Who? Percy? I dunno.” Chris shrugged and poked at his food. He had done the worst at getting rid of his food and a good half was still there. Wren had eaten his dinner, but he was almost certain Blair had managed to get most of hers to Tary.

  “So you don’t have a ride?” Dad said.

  “I’ll figure it out,” Chris promised. That drew a sigh from Dad.

  Wren rolled his eyes. They all knew what Chris would really do was wait until the last possible week and then scramble to find someone who still had room in the car. Dad had driven him and a few others once, but it was a long drive and Dad didn’t really have time to go camping, so that was rare.

  “Are you coming, bro?” Chris asked.

  Wren shrugged and set his fork on his plate. “Can I be excused?” He didn’t really want to talk about it. Part of him wanted to go only because then he could be “one of the guys,” but he also knew he’d just be a paranoid, anxious mess the whole time. Stranded out in the middle of nowhere for a weekend, surrounded by strange guys he didn’t know? Yeah, that didn’t sound like very much fun.

  “You should go to the next meeting,” Chris continued, ignoring Wren’s discomfort or just not picking up on it. Wren wasn’t sure which. “You didn’t get to talk to, like, anyone except Felipe.”

  “I thought you enjoyed it,” Dad said, frowning. “If you didn’t….”

  “I did enjoy it. I just don’t know if I should go to a camping trip with a bunch of people I don’t know,” Wren explained, crossing his arms. “Can I be excused?”

  “Stop running away from everything,” Chris snapped. “Just because you’re the oldest doesn’t mean you get special privileges.”

  “Yeah, when I didn’t like school, I didn’t get to move,” Blair complained.

  Wren could feel the oncoming headache and anger, and he looked at Mom. “Come on, I ate most of my food.”

  For a moment he thought she was going to make him stay and talk about his feelings. Thankfully she just nodded, ignoring Blair, who was starting to gripe about how stressful her classes were. August seemed annoyed mostly because she hadn’t been excused even with a completely clean plate—“because you need to spend time with your family and not on your phone,” according to Dad.

  “Thanks,” Wren said as he stood, grabbed his plate, and speed-walked to the kitchen. He barely cleaned it off before dumping it in the sink. In the dining room, he could hear Blair complaining loudly about school before Dad told her to finish eating dinner.

  “I don’t want to! Why does Dani get out of everything? Is it because he’s a boy now?” Blair shouted.

  Wren curled his hands into fists and resisted the urge to punch the wall. “Don’t call me that,” he snapped, not waiting for a reply. He marched back through the dining room on his way to his room. Once there, he slammed his door shut and fell onto his bed, clutching his pillow and screaming into it.

  I hate this, he thought, shaking a little as his eyes burned. I’m not going to cry. That’s pathetic. I’m not going to cry just because my stupid little sister is stupid and I’m too much of a coward to go camping.

  He lay there, trying not to cry, for more time than he could follow. Outside his room, he could just make out the sound of voices, but not what they were saying. His sister—August? Blair? He couldn’t tell—shouted something, and Chris shouted back. Tary barked and his claws skittered on the wood in the hallway. There was a thump as Tary slammed into a wall, like always, and Blair—it was definitely Blair—shouted something else. Suddenly there were three voices and a barking dog.

  Wren shifted only so he could bury his head under his pillow. Why couldn’t I be an only child? I hate siblings. That way he wouldn’t have to deal with their stupid comments and their mess-ups and the way they didn’t get that he wouldn’t be like this if he could help it. He wouldn’t have changed schools or gotten into fights with Mom and Dad about stupid things like pronouns or wanting to be called Wren instead of Danielle or just being treated like an almost-adult and not the eight-year-old they kept seeing him as.

  It wasn’t his decision to just turn his whole life upside down and lose most of his friends and constantly be anxious about whether he’d get more stares in the boys’ or girls’ bathroom. Wren hadn’t asked for depression or dysphoria. He sure as hell hadn’t asked about a camping trip with a bunch of boys. He was starting to think it had all been a mistake. Except for Felipe, no one had wanted to talk to him, and who could blame them? Fuck, Percy had been hostile and clearly didn’t want Wren there.

  Doesn’t matter. I’m not going back. Fuck them.

  A moment passed. His mind whirled, and it was hard for him to focus on any single thought, an overwhelming feeling of wrong and hate and pain suffocating him from all sides.

  I’m literally suffocating, he realized. He groaned and rolled over so his face wasn’t pressed against the bed, instead letting his pillow just sit there and prevent him from having to feel like an almost-adult. It was easy to avoid responsibilities when he couldn’t see them.

  There was a knock on his door. Go away. Wren didn’t move. Another knock, and then the sound of his door being gently pushed open.

  “Wren, it’s me,” Dad said. He coughed loud enough for Wren to hear. “You know, as a doctor, I am required to stop you from suffocating yourself.” He walked over and gently pulled the pillow off Wren’s face.

  Wren groaned and rolled over, putting his back to his father.

  A sigh escaped Dad. “We sent Blair to her room.”

  “That’s not a punishment,” Wren mumbled.

  “Your mother is going to talk to her and your other siblings. I think they’re still having some difficulty understanding what’s going on.”

  Yeah? Well, I’m having difficulty understanding who hates me and who doesn’t, so they can shut the fuck up, Wren thought. He wasn’t about to say that aloud, though.

  “You know that they love you, right?” Dad said.

  Wren let out a bitter laugh. “They have a funny way of showing it.”

  “You have to think of it from their perspective. They feel like they lost a sister. Chris is h
andling it the best, but he’s also the oldest and he’s always wanted a brother anyway.” Dad was smiling. His voice always had a certain sound when he was smiling. Wren knew that it was an attempt to make him feel better, but it wasn’t working.

  Letting out a sigh, Wren rolled onto his back. “It’s not fair. They haven’t lost a sister. I’m still me. I’m just a little more me than before.”

  “I know. And your mother and I are here for you. We just….”

  “Don’t want me to do anything I’ll regret. I know. You tell me that every time we talk about me starting hormones or getting surgery.” Wren frowned. “It’s not like it matters. Soon I’ll be in college and then no one will know me from before.”

  Dad raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you want?”

  Put on the spot, Wren could only shrug.

  Dad sighed. It wasn’t a sad sigh, or an annoyed one, but more of a resigned sound. Wren wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  “Is this about the camping?” Dad asked, and Wren shrugged. “That’s not an answer.”

  “It is and it isn’t,” Wren admitted. “I’m not gonna fit in. It’s completely pointless. I don’t know why you thought this was a good idea.”

  “You don’t like being with other boys?”

  “They’re… different.” Wren gestured to himself. “I’m nothing like them.”

  “But you’re a boy.”

  “Yes, but the difference is that I need to remind people of that constantly!” Wren threw his hands up. “I get that you’re trying to help and it’s nice and all, but guess what? I’m not like them and they just think I’m weird and I shouldn’t have gone to a stupid meeting in the first place. I don’t know why I let you convince me that it was a good idea.”

  There was a moment of silence. Dad shifted, his weight pushing the old bed down a little more. Wren was glad he was going to college soon. Most of his stuff was starting to reach the sketchy side of old rather than the aesthetic side.

  “We want you to be happy again, Wren. And if that means not going to Boy Scouts, then that’s fine. But you should go to at least one more meeting. It’s important to give things a second chance.” Dad reached out and ruffled Wren’s hair. “You know, it’s getting pretty long. Maybe we should go get it cut soon? How about this weekend?”