In the Desert

by Elliot Joyce

  Felipe grinned. Unlike most of the other Scouts, Kyle knew how to use spices and, more importantly, was handy with a camping grill. “Deal. I’m holding you to it.” He extended a hand and they shook on it, fist-bumping at the end like usual. “See you at lunch?”

  “Yup. Same time, same place,” Kyle said. “And thanks, dude. I know it kind of sucks to get here so early when you don’t have to.”

  “Eh, well, I’d probably draw the ire of the entire soccer team if you couldn’t play, so really it’s no big deal,” Felipe replied with a wave of his hand.

  Kyle made a face. “I was kind of hoping you’d say that you didn’t want to help anymore.”

  “You aren’t getting out of your work that easily.” Felipe gave Kyle a cheeky grin. “Have fun finishing the rest of your homework.” With a lazy wave goodbye, Felipe dashed to his first class of the day, thinking about Wren and Boy Scouts and how much of a blast it would be to just go camping and hang out for the weekend together. Felipe bet that Wren kicked in his sleep. He would put a fucking twenty on that.

  He hoped he could find out. He really, really did.

  THE BOY Scout meetings were not always at the same house. Sometimes parents needed space or the Scout in question got sick or whatnot. Wren knew this. Chris had, many times, needed to get a ride home because the meeting was too far for Dad to drive twice in one night. But on that particular night, Chris hadn’t felt the need to say anything about the meeting being in another place until they were on the sixty in the HOV lane.

  Dad glanced back at Chris. “It’s good to know you inherited your grandfather’s sense of direction.” He pulled off the highway. “Wren, can you put the right address in my phone?” he asked. Then, after a bit of turning around, swearing, and getting lost, they were finally on their way. The right way, this time.

  Somehow they arrived only ten minutes late. This time, Chris didn’t even pretend to be patient enough to wait for Wren. He bolted out of the car immediately, leaving Wren sitting in the passenger seat of his dad’s Prius, wondering how his life had gotten to this point.

  “I don’t want to go camping,” Wren reminded his dad.

  “I know.”

  “I’ll go to this meeting, but after that, I’m done.”

  Dad sighed. “You know, Boy Scouts do more than camping.”

  “Yeah?” Wren crossed his arms. He knew he was being difficult, but he didn’t care. There was nothing for him there except anxiety and possible humiliation. No one had wanted to talk to him before—why would that change now?

  Felipe talked to you, his brain reminded him.

  Big fucking yay, Wren told it.

  “Name one thing Boy Scouts do that isn’t camping,” he said.

  “Volunteer work.”

  Wren grimaced. They both knew Wren did not have the patience for most manifestations of volunteering.

  “They sell cookies?”

  “That’s Girl Scouts.” Wren let out the heaviest sigh he could manage. “I’ll go, but like I said, it’s a waste of time. Chris doesn’t even want me here.”

  “Your brother doesn’t dislike you as much as you think, W,” Dad said, and Wren raised an eyebrow. “I can’t tell if that’s about what I said or the nickname.”

  “Both.” But Wren still undid his seat belt and opened the car door. It was chilly out. Well, chilly for Arizona. He didn’t need his jacket, but it made him feel more comfortable at least, temperature aside. “Bye, Dad.”

  “Bye, son.”

  Wren felt something warm in his chest, though it had more or less disappeared by the time he reached the front door of the house. Chris was long gone, but there was someone vaguely familiar waiting in the doorway. The guy grinned when he saw Wren, giving him a small wave.

  “Hey, Chris’s bro.” The guy extended a hand, and Wren stopped to shake it. Even if he didn’t want to be there, he didn’t want to be rude either. Besides, it wasn’t like he had anyone else to talk to. “I’m Kyle. You probably forgot, seeing as you met the thirty weirdest assholes in Arizona last meeting.”

  Oh, right. Kyle had been one of the people to add Wren on Facebook. Now that there was a name to the face, Wren knew who he was.

  “Are you sure? You don’t go to Glendale High School, do you?” Wren replied.

  Kyle laughed. “Nah, I go to Cactus High. And yes, I know how stupid that name is.”

  “That is a pretty stupid name.” Wren shifted back and forth, unsure if he was supposed to keep making small talk in the entryway or if he was supposed to walk inside.

  “Do you mind if we talk?” Kyle asked, throwing Wren a lifeline.

  Thankful, Wren nodded.

  “Come on. The backyard is way quieter, and we might be able to get some marshmallows before the others.” Kyle motioned for him to follow as he began walking.

  “Marshmallows?” Wren asked as he trailed behind. The hallway quickly branched out into several rooms. Like at the last meeting, most of the Boy Scouts were gathered by the food. The kitchen was only separated from the dining room by a wall with an arch through it, and boys kept going from one room to the other. Most of them were shouting, and the noise kept echoing off the walls.

  Wren tried to find a familiar face in the crowd but was quickly disappointed. Percy, whose scowl and look of disapproval was burned into Wren’s brain, was there, but other than Chris, everyone else was a stranger.

  Kyle didn’t bother lingering, calling out to a few others as they walked through the dining room. There was a big oval table that had once been overfilled with snacks and now was much more barren save for the empty bowls and soda cans, which they had to slip around. After, they were into the living room and out the glass sliding door.

  “Hey, Mrs. Garcia, is the fire started yet?” Kyle asked the woman outside. She had dirty-blonde hair and a warm smile that she aimed at the two of them.

  “Not yet. You boys want some before the others, huh?” She said “boys” like Wren wasn’t obviously covering up his entire torso with a too-big jacket. It meant a lot more than the wink and bag of marshmallows she handed Kyle, but the marshmallows were pretty good too. “Don’t eat them all,” Mrs. Garcia told them.

  “We won’t,” Kyle promised. His mouth was already stuffed with the sugary treat, though, and the words came out muffled. He swallowed and gave Wren a cheeky grin. “Come on. There’s a cool swing we can chill on.” He pointed and led Wren over to a beat-up swinging bench. There was a barrel cactus behind it so they couldn’t swing very far, but it was nice.

  They sat in silence for a little while, Wren watching the house and half-counting the number of marshmallows Kyle ate. None of the others boys came out into the backyard except for Felipe, who stuck his head out at one point and spotted them. His expression was difficult to read from so far away, the porch lights only at half, but for a moment, Wren thought Felipe was truly excited to see him. Maybe he wants to be friends?

  It sounded a lot more pathetic in Wren’s head.

  Felipe started to head over, but Kyle dropped the bag and made quick signals with his hands. Halfway to the bench, Felipe nodded and left, shutting the door behind him.

  Wren felt the little bit of hope in his stomach shrivel up and die. It was stupid to think Felipe had been looking for him, but he tried to take comfort in the fact that Felipe had recognized him. And he added you on Facebook, Wren told himself.

  He didn’t do anything else, his mind helpfully reminded him.

  Kyle sighed and looked at the half-empty marshmallow bag. Wren was reminded of the time Blair had eaten the majority of her Halloween candy and got so sick that she didn’t go to school the next day. He wondered if he should be worried about Kyle throwing up.

  “When she asks, it was all you,” Wren said.

  Kyle laughed. “I see why Felipe likes you,” he replied. Wren blushed and looked away. Kyle set the bag aside. There was a moment of silence. “You’re trans.”

  Wren tensed. Was this A Talk? Was he going to get told to leave or
have his face smashed into the dirt? He thought Kyle was all right, cool enough to be friends with Felipe, who had been nice, but Wren should have known better. There was no point in denying it, not like Wren could have gotten away with that anyway. He swallowed and eyed Kyle, who was still relaxed.

  “Whose idea was it for you to join a historically homophobic and transphobic club?” he asked. He sounded genuine, and Wren felt like it was unlikely that he would be punched if he answered the wrong way, but his heart was still pounding.

  “My dad though I needed to make more friends.” A moment. Wren swallowed. “A lot of mine decided to ditch me after I came out. It’s not good for your reputation if you’re friends with a trans kid.” Wren shifted, discomfort rising. He left out the needing to change schools because of how bad the bullying got. There was nothing to be gained from spilling his entire life story. “Why?”

  Kyle shrugged and leaned back, acting for all intents and purposes as if they were just talking about the weather or if the Suns would have any chance of making it to the playoffs. Wren assumed that was what normal guys talked about, especially ones who were obviously athletic, like Kyle.

  “I came out when I was ten,” Kyle said, and Wren stared at him. “My mom cried and my dad was in denial, but they ended up putting me on blockers, so….” He shrugged again, entirely unaware that he was blowing Wren’s mind. “Everyone here knows. I joined before I could pass, right when my parents started accepting me. My dad said—” Kyle cleared his throat. “—‘If I have a son, you can be damn certain he’ll be a Boy Scout.’” He delivered it in a baritone that Wren could never hope to reach.

  Wren stared at the ground, unsure exactly what to do with this newfound knowledge. He wanted to ask so many questions. Would Kyle talk to him about how he knew or how he dealt with his parents? Did he have any siblings? Was he just on hormones or had he gotten surgery? Wren had never met another trans person before, not really. The internet was great, but Wren could feel his soul screaming for more real people he could hang out with and talk with.

  But Wren didn’t want Kyle to think he was weird or pushy, didn’t want to botch meeting another trans person, so he stayed quiet.

  “What I’m trying to say is, like, you’re good here. The others might kind of fuck up every once in a while because they’re stupid, but just tell them off and they’ll correct themselves. And if they give you too much shit, you can tell me and I’ll tell them to fuck off for you.” Kyle shrugged, eyeing the bag of marshmallows.

  “I think you should fuck off from those marshmallows,” Wren said, in lieu of anything better to say.

  Kyle chuckled and slapped Wren on the back. “Seriously, you’re a good guy. We’re glad to have you here.” Kyle gave him a smile, and Wren found himself returning it. “And if you want to talk anytime, just hit me up. I’ll give you my number.” Kyle pulled out his phone, and they traded numbers as the patio door opened.

  “Stop eating all the marshmallows, you fucking fatass,” Travis shouted as he walked out. “Kyle, you shit, I should have guessed you were out here. Felipe told me you were hogging the new guy.” He came over, shaking his head. The grin on his face made it clear he wasn’t mad. “What are you two plotting?”

  “World domination,” Kyle deadpanned.

  “What he said,” Wren replied. He almost stood so he could leave and let Travis and Kyle talk when he saw Felipe slip out of the house and into the backyard. “Hey,” he called, with a slight wave. Felipe brightened and came over, waving back. “What was that thing you and Kyle did earlier?”

  Felipe frowned as he crossed the yard. Travis gave Kyle a look, and Kyle just shook his head. Wren felt a bit like he was missing part of the conversation but figured it was just a friend thing.

  “This?” Felipe moved his hands, this time a bit slower, but it all still looked like nonsense to Wren, who nodded.

  Travis laughed, slapping Kyle on the back. It made a resounding smack and Wren winced, though Kyle didn’t seem bothered at all. “These two know sign language because they’re too good for the rest of us,” Travis said.

  “My grandma is hard of hearing, basically deaf when her aids are out of battery, and Kyle—” Felipe cut himself off, going a bit red in the ears as he blushed.

  Kyle just shrugged. “My mom’s mute, so I learned ASL before I could talk. Uh, American Sign Language. It’s pretty useful.” He gestured at Wren. “I just called you an ass,” he said.

  “Fuck you,” Wren instinctively replied.

  Felipe laughed, and Travis shouted, “Oh shit!” He and Felipe grabbed each other’s hands as they laughed, and then fist-bumped when they let go. “Wren’s not afraid to talk shit. That’s cool, that’s cool.” Travis looked genuinely pleased, and even Kyle seemed a little amused.

  “Listen, we’ve tried to teach you,” Kyle told Travis, “but unfortunately you need an IQ of over fifty to pick up a second language.”

  “Asshole,” Travis grumbled, shoulder-checking Kyle, who shoved right back. Wren couldn’t tell if Travis was holding back or if Kyle was just deceptively strong. “At least I can pass my classes, unlike a certain shithead I know.”

  “We should leave them to it,” Felipe muttered, stepping back and glancing at Wren, seemingly uncertain whether Wren would want to join him. Wren offered him a small smile and followed him back inside.

  It was even louder than before and Wren grimaced, wondering if it was too awkward to walk back outside. But no, Felipe led them into the kitchen, ducking and weaving between other Boy Scouts. The meeting still hadn’t started, and Wren checked his phone.

  “Do these meetings ever start on time?” Wren asked as the two of them found a relatively quiet place to stand.

  “No,” Felipe replied, reaching into a mostly empty cooler. “You want anything?”

  “I’m good.” Wren saw someone had spilled soda all over the kitchen counter and just threw a bunch of paper towels over the mess, not bothering to actually clean it up at all. He was hit with a sudden wave of relief that he and his siblings were generally discouraged from inviting friends over. If Chris offered the house up for a Boy Scout meeting, Mom would have a heart attack trying to manage the mess and Blair would have screamed at everyone. “What did you want to talk to Kyle about earlier?”

  “Huh?” Felipe glanced over, confused, as he cracked open his Fanta. His hand was covered in water and bits of ice, and Wren felt the sudden compulsion to brush it off. He stopped himself, fingers twitching. Hoping that Felipe hadn’t noticed, Wren shoved his hands under his armpits.

  “You came looking for Kyle,” he said too quickly. “You did your little finger thing.”

  “Oh, that.” Felipe scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, I, uh, wanted to come talk to you.” He shrugged. “I saw Chris, and he told me that Kyle had kidnapped you and you two were already talking, so….” He took a sip of his soda. “Have a good talk?”

  “Yeah.” Wren hesitated, then decided, fuck it. “He told me that he’s trans.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Felipe shrugged again. “Honestly sometimes I forget. He doesn’t look like it.”

  “Not all trans people look the same,” Wren snapped.

  Felipe held his hands up. “Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” He gestured at the room around them, the other Boy Scouts more or less ignoring them. “I should know better, but a lot of these guys don’t. Like, they don’t give Kyle shit and they wouldn’t mean anything the wrong way, but they don’t think about what they say. They’re not bad people, but you should know.” Felipe frowned. “I mean, I’m sorry. I don’t want you thinking we’re all a bunch of dicks.”

  “I know you aren’t.” Wren sighed. “I’m not used to people actually caring.”

  Felipe nodded but didn’t say anything.

  Before Wren could try to revive the conversation, someone walked by and did a double take when he saw Felipe. The two of them started talking about a video game Wren didn’t play, which really wasn’t saying much. He began to tun
e out, a bit preoccupied with watching the way Felipe motioned around and the fact that a few ice crystals had yet to melt off his hand.

  He bit his lip, trying to tell himself all the reasons why it was a horrible, no good, very bad idea to develop a crush on Felipe. They barely knew each other, for one. Felipe was undoubtedly straight, second, and Wren was trans and knew he couldn’t handle dating someone who treated him like a girl. They both were seventeen, high school seniors, and they’d probably never see each other after going to college. Besides, Wren barely had any friends. What in the world was he doing, thinking the way Felipe smiled really showed off his eyes?

  Okay, that may be the gayest thing I’ve ever thought, Wren admitted to himself.

  “Oh shit, I completely forgot to introduce you—Wren, this is Scott.” Felipe patted Scott on the arm, and Scott grinned. His front tooth was chipped and, just looking at him, Wren got an awful flashback to the time he had been chased across the parking lot by a group of jocks who had caught him exiting the boy’s locker room.

  “Hey. You’re Chris’s sis, right?”

  “Brother,” Wren and Felipe said simultaneously.

  Scott nodded. “My bad, man. It’s cool you’re able to come to these things.” He glanced around. “Speaking of trans dudes, where’s Kyle? Gotta tell him about this new show I heard of, got lots of blood and shit.”

  “He was talking outside to Travis,” Felipe said.

  “Cool.” Scott gave Felipe and Wren a casual salute. “See you two. And if Percy comes looking for me, I’m not here. I still owe him a waiver from the last camping trip.” Without further ado, Scott disappeared.

  Felipe shook his head. “Scott’s fun and he can probably talk circles around you if it’s something to do with fantasy, but he’s got a goldfish memory for everything else.”

  “Did you know you can train goldfish to go through mazes and solve puzzles?” Wren said. Why did I just say that? He resisted the urge to slam his head into the nearest wall.