In the Desert

by Elliot Joyce

  He helped load everything Wren brought into the back of Travis’s truck. Wren didn’t have too much stuff, just a few changes of clothes, basic hygiene things like toothpaste, and a swimsuit. He also had a sleeping bag, a foam mat, and a blanket because he hated the cold and Kyle had already told him in no uncertain terms that he was using his own blanket, or he’d be “shit out of luck,” to quote their last conversation on the matter.

  When it was time to go, though, Dad seemed hesitant to leave.

  “Do you have your water bottle?”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “Do you have a compass?”

  “Kyle has one.”

  “Do you have your boots?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you—”

  “Dad, I’ll be fine. Come on. We gotta go soon anyway,” Wren said.

  Dad sighed and held up his hands, sharing a look with Travis’s mother. “I will have you know I was just as bad with Chris when he went on his first trip,” Dad reassured Wren.

  “Yeah, but Chris was, like, twelve. I’m seventeen. I got this.”

  Again, Dad glanced at Travis’s mother. The two adults had both amused and seriously? expressions, but neither said anything.

  Dad pulled Wren into a hug. “You’re going to have a great time.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Wren swallowed and waved as his dad got in the car and drove off. There was a moment of silence, but then Travis came over and squeezed Wren’s shoulder.

  “Come on, dude. We gotta get going if we want to beat the traffic.”

  “I call shotgun!” Kyle shouted, jumping up and down.

  “The entire thing is shotgun,” Felipe complained. “We are not listening to your music for three hours.”

  “What’s wrong with my music?”

  “It’s shitty! Sorry, Mrs. Konah.”

  She didn’t seem offended in the least, though she was mostly grilling Travis on whether he had his tire pressure checked and the proper way to change a tire in case he got a flat on the road. Wren, who barely knew the right way to hold a wrench or the difference between a Phillips or flathead screwdriver, couldn’t help but stare a little.

  “Hey, you want to be in charge of music?” Felipe asked, seemingly teleporting over to Wren’s side and nudging him.

  Wren shrugged, thinking about what was on his phone. Not that much. He tended to listen to the same three bands. “I’m fine with you doing it, but I’m keeping veto privileges,” he joked.

  “My music is mostly video game stuff,” Felipe admitted. “Travis listens to a lot of R&B, and Kyle pretty much downloads whatever catches his interest at the time. Those are your three options.”

  “I don’t really care,” Wren replied, figuring he might as well stay in the middle.

  Felipe rolled his eyes as Travis came over, his quiz finally over.

  “Are we good to go?” Wren asked.

  “Yup. Last chance to use the bathroom. Kyle, go to the bathroom,” Travis essentially ordered.

  Kyle made a face but ran into the house.

  A dog barked, then another, and soon there were three other barks thrown in.

  Wren grinned. “You have dogs?”

  “Oh, yeah. Bradley, Bagel, and Barker. You can guess which one my little sister named.” Travis shrugged. “If you want, you can say hi to them while Kyle pisses.”

  It was a tempting offer, but Wren didn’t want to spend the entire car ride covered in dog hair. He knew he was going to get dirty enough up in the mountains, he didn’t want to start the trip a mess. Well, not any more of a mess than he already was.

  “Travis, you have the aux cord,” Felipe said as he headed for the truck. “Wren, you get to sit next to Kyle. Whatever he offers you to eat, turn it down.”

  “Why?” Wren asked, following.

  “He needs to learn that what he eats cannot possibly be edible by anyone else’s standards,” Felipe replied.

  The two of them got into the truck as Travis did a final check on the bed of the truck, making sure nothing was going to fly out when they were going seventy down the highway.

  “Is Travis actually a good driver?” Wren found himself asking, realizing there was no seat belt in the middle. There was one for the passenger and for the driver, but while four people could probably squeeze in, it wasn’t exactly the safest. Some part of him knew this was illegal, but also he couldn’t find it in him to care.

  “Eh. He hasn’t gotten into any accidents. Also, your alternative option is Kyle, because I don’t know how to drive anything this big,” Felipe confessed.

  Wren thought about how Kyle would be as a driver. A few troop meetings ago, some of the guys had pulled out bikes, skateboards, and a ramp and done tricks. Kyle had crashed his bike into a bush, only to get right back up and crash with a skateboard, in the very same bush, five minutes later.

  “Got it,” Wren said.

  “You know, this is gonna be a fucking blast. We’re gonna play capture the flag, and you’ll have to be on our team. Like, seriously, because Travis pretends to forget that he isn’t playing football and tackles people, and you’re tough, but also I think if Travis tackled you, you’d die.” Felipe slugged Wren on the shoulder, and Wren shoved him back.

  “Like you’d do any better,” Wren pointed out.

  “Excuse you, I am never on the opposite team as Travis. I’m intelligent enough to know better and not prideful enough to think that it’s a cowardly thing to do.” Felipe made a face as Travis got into the car and started it up. Kyle burst out of the house and dashed over.

  “What lies and slander are you telling him now?” Travis asked.

  “Oh, only the truth about everything,” Felipe replied.

  Kyle threw the truck door open and clambered in, grinning at the others. “So are you ready for three hours with the two biggest assholes in all of Arizona?” he asked Wren.

  “Well, there’s you and Travis. What’s Felipe?”

  “Fucking hell, that’s a good one.” Travis laughed even as he pulled out of the driveway and onto the street. “Wren, please continue to burn Kyle for the next three hours. It’ll be more entertaining than playing punch buggy with a hyperactive five-year-old.”

  “Fuck you too,” Kyle shouted, leaning forward so he could clearly flip Travis off.

  Wren laughed and laughed, and when he saw Felipe giving him a smile, laughed some more. He had no idea how his life had gotten to this point, sitting in a truck with three guys all on their way to the mountains for the weekend, but he wouldn’t change a single thing.

  EXHAUSTED, WREN sat down on the first log that looked like it wasn’t going to end with his ass covered in splinters. Sweat dripped down his face and he felt like he was practically swimming in his clothes, he was such a mess. Despite being on Travis’s team for capture the flag, he still had managed to trip over a tree root and eat dirt, and Chris had taken probably too much pleasure out of being allowed to full-body tackle his older brother to the ground on multiple occasions. Wren had stopped himself short of blaming his binder for the fact that he couldn’t run as fast or as far as the others, but if they thought worse of him because of it, at least no one had said anything to his face.

  As it was, though, Wren’s team had narrowly won three of the five matches that the troop had agreed upon and the title of Capture the Flag Champions firmly remained the Green Team’s. Wren, who had only played the relatively tame version from high school gym class, decided he liked this version much better. No one had required anything more than a few bandages, but Kyle’s eyes had teared up a little when one of the dads had cleaned up his hands and arms after he was pushed into a thorny bush.

  Now, of course, he was back to his usual self, which meant everyone was trying to keep the marshmallows away from him as the campfire burst into life.

  “Wren! Good job back there. You really kicked ass,” Scott said with a wave as he plopped down a few feet from Wren. “I thought I could make it, but you came outta nowhere, man. That was fucking sick.”<
br />
  It hadn’t felt very sick at the time, except if one was referring to the feeling in Wren’s stomach when he had run through the trees and slammed right into Scott. Wren wasn’t about to admit that his takedown, which resulted in his team winning the second match, was a complete accident, so he just nodded.

  “Dude, I feel like I need to take the world’s longest shower,” Felipe complained as he sat next to Wren. Somehow, Felipe looked like he had just gotten out of a bath. Even his shirt was sticking to his chest, and his hair was definitely dripping. “Travis dumped a cooler on my head and it didn’t help at all.” Felipe made a face even as Scott and Wren laughed.

  “It’s your fault for deciding to defend and letting them get the flag twice,” Wren teased, bumping shoulders with him.

  Felipe rolled his eyes and shoved Wren back. “Listen, you see me? You see Travis? Which one of us do you want on defense and which one of us do you want on offense?”

  “It’s all those books you read,” Scott chimed in. “If you got out and played soccer or literally anything but video games, you wouldn’t be a giant fatass.”

  “Kyle eats nothing but sugar! Why aren’t you calling him fat?” Felipe pointed out.

  “He plays soccer,” Scott replied.

  “I think that Felipe looks great.” Wren realized how that sounded and quickly added, “When we’re all stuck up here because a crazed axe-murderer is going around and cut the tires for every car, we’ll just eat him first.” He punctuated his sentence with a slight poke to Felipe’s stomach.

  Felipe flipped him off.

  “Kyle, stop eating those!” Percy shouted.

  Kyle temporarily froze like a deer in headlights as everyone turned to see him with three marshmallows in his hands and another one in his mouth. He gave Percy a weak smile and tossed the bag over before dashing away to no doubt hide until he could eat more.

  “Everyone gets three marshmallows, except for Kyle, who gets none because he’s already eaten eight,” Percy told the group, glaring at the tent Kyle had taken shelter in.

  Kyle stuck his hand through the flap and flipped him off, and a chorus of laughter passed over the troop.

  “Remember that we have to keep this area clean, so please don’t just toss your wrappers away—put them in one of our trash bags. The skewers are over here and we have plenty of chocolate, but don’t just start eating it, Harrison.”

  “Does he know he sounds like someone’s dad?” Wren wondered aloud, and Scott snorted even as Felipe chuckled, once again bumping shoulders with Wren. “No, seriously. I’m pretty sure my dad gave us this same speech the first time we had a campfire in our backyard.”

  “I will pay you five bucks to tell Percy that,” Felipe said.

  Wren made a face. “That’s it? I’m putting my life on the line and you want me to do it for five dollars?”

  “Hey, I don’t have a lawyer dad like Travis. Some of us gotta work with what we got.” Felipe shrugged as he stood. “Want me to grab you shit for a s’more?”

  “Oh, sure,” Wren answered.

  Felipe left, and Scott decided to do the same. Travis came over and took the seat that Felipe had vacated, though he left more room between him and Wren. No, that’s just you imagining it. Felipe left plenty of space, Wren thought. Still, his side still felt a little tingly from where Felipe had knocked shoulders with him.

  “Hey. How are you not one giant bruise? I feel like I’m going to be limping for a week,” Wren said.

  “Football.” Travis leaned back, munching on a granola bar. “You aren’t getting a s’more?”

  “Felipe offered to grab the stuff for me.” There was a small crowd of Boy Scouts around the supplies, and Wren settled in for a wait. He didn’t mind.

  It was surprisingly nice up in the mountains, chilly enough that he felt like he wasn’t a huge freak for wearing a jacket, but not cold enough for there to be snow or frost. The sky was beautiful too, currently streaked with orange and red and a hint of purple as the sun started to set. Soon it would be darker than anywhere Wren had ever been, lit only by the stars, the moon, and the sporadic campfires that dotted the campgrounds.

  The cars were all parked off to the side, leaving plenty of space for the tents. Most of the Scouts were being shoved into tents with three people, but there were a few with four, and Chris and Nico shared a smaller tent, just the two of them. No one else wanted to share since Chris liked to dance in his sleep.

  “Are you two a thing?” Travis asked, gesturing to where Felipe was gathering marshmallows.

  If Wren had been drinking water, he would have done a spit take. “God, no. Do you—he’s straight! And he’s Catholic! And I’m very much not interested in him,” Wren lied. Well, the last part was a lie. He knew the other parts were true, unfortunately.

  “Right.” Travis glanced over to where Felipe was putting the marshmallows on wooden skewers. He put two on each before going to grab the chocolate and the graham crackers. They still had a few minutes before he’d be coming back. “You know, none of us would care if you were.”

  “I know, but we aren’t,” Wren insisted, hoping he wasn’t blushing as much as he felt like he was. Thank God for brown skin. “We’re friends. Just because we don’t call each other dicks every five seconds or try to throw each other out of trees doesn’t mean we aren’t just two dudes who like each other. As friends. That’s it.” Wren didn’t know who he was fooling, but it definitely wasn’t Travis, if the look he was giving had anything to say about it.

  Travis shrugged, shoving the rest of his granola bar into his mouth. He looked like he wanted to say more, but then Felipe was back, handing Wren a skewer with two marshmallows and holding a small stack of chocolate and graham crackers in his other hand.

  “Hey, are you gonna get one?” Felipe asked Travis, who shook his head. “Oh, right, football season. Well, I guess Kyle ate your share anyway.”

  “Oh, fuck off,” Travis said. “Everyone knows to pack an extra bag just for him.”

  “Eh, well, at least I don’t have to sleep by him,” Felipe mused.

  Wren groaned. They had decided he would be between Kyle and Felipe in the hope that the two of them were relatively heavy sleepers and, worst case scenario, weren’t afraid to kick Wren out if they absolutely couldn’t sleep. Wren and Chris could always share a tent, but they had to live with each other already, and actually spending time together outside of car drives to and from school was pushing it.

  Felipe glanced down at Wren and then at Travis. Between the two of them, there wasn’t really space for Felipe to sit. “Let’s move closer to the fire,” Felipe suggested. “There’s more space, and it’s not like we can make s’mores from here.”

  “I’ll stay back and watch you all catch shit on fire,” Travis said. “If Kyle slinks out of our goddamn tent, I’ll keep him distracted.”

  “Your sacrifice is noted,” Wren replied. “We will toast in your honor.”

  “Yeah, yeah, go get a spot before all the good ones are taken. And you can thank me by taking a fucking shower before we go to sleep,” Travis grumbled, a teasing glint in his eyes.

  Wren flipped him off even as he stood.

  Felipe grabbed ahold of his arm and pulled him closer to the fire. There were others there, of course, and besides the good-natured verbal and physical jabs, there wasn’t really conversation. Everyone was too intent on getting their marshmallow to cook… or burn into a crisp, if you were Chris.

  Wren rolled his eyes as he carefully turned his skewer, trying to keep his marshmallows from burning, instead wanting a nice, even brown all the way around. He didn’t really blame the others for not being patient enough to wait, but in his experience, it was worth the extra time to sit there and get it done properly. It was a bit ironic, of course, because generally Wren hated waiting and wanted things done as quickly as possible.

  But cooking marshmallows specifically was an art form that Wren was determined not to mess up.

  “Oh shit,” Felipe sw
ore as his skewer caught fire. Wren laughed as Felipe waved it around, trying to put it out, only to end with the marshmallows falling off and leaving him with a shorter skewer and no sugary treats. “Fucking hell.” He threw his skewer in the fire and locked eyes with Wren. The blue reflected the flames and burned into Wren, who felt like the air had just been punched out of him.

  A moment passed.

  “I’m, uh, gonna go grab another.” Felipe stumbled away, his ears red. Wren shook his head and pulled his marshmallows out of the fire. They were still not brown enough, so he pushed them back in, scowling.

  Stupid, stupid. He probably knows you like him. He thought back to the look on Travis’s face, the way he had reassured Wren that it would be fine with the troop. As if that was all Wren was worried about. Fuck, what if the whole troop knows? Wren hurriedly thought back to how the rest of the Boy Scouts interacted with him, but he couldn’t think of anything that would tell him.

  Okay, calm down. It was just a moment. Nobody said anything, so they probably didn’t see it. You’re fine. Nobody knows. Except maybe Felipe. Who’s straight. And Catholic. And, like, your only new friend.

  Wren wondered if it would be too long of a walk to go to the lake and drown himself before he died of embarrassment.

  “Hey, Wren, your marshmallows are on fire,” someone called out.

  “Fuck!” Wren pulled them out and blew on them until the flames died out, but it was too late to save them. One side was nothing more than a blackened mess and the other was barely even touched. He glanced at Felipe, who was resolutely standing on the other side of the fire, and decided it wasn’t worth trying to do over.

  He walked back to where Travis and now Kyle were sitting. They looked up as he came over.

  “Felipe’s still going?” Kyle asked.

  “Yeah, he’s trying to make them perfect or some shit,” Wren mumbled, deciding to forgo the log and just sit on the ground.

  “That’s weird. He usually—ouch, what the fuck?” Kyle said, glaring at Travis, who had just elbowed him in the stomach. “Seriously, dude, your elbows are like fucking knives. We’ve actually, like, fucking talked about this.” Kyle rubbed his stomach, a pout settling on his face.