by Kim Fielding
“Then will you give me a tour?”
“Sure. Just don’t expect nonstop thrills.”
He took them downtown first, where he did a slow complete circle around the town square. A few pedestrians stared curiously at them, and Jordan seemed enchanted by his view from the passenger seat. “It’s adorable. Like a movie set.”
“What movie would that be?”
“The Life Story of Landry Bishop. Oscar bait for sure. Who plays me?”
Landry squeezed Jordan’s knee. “Nobody. There’s no substitute for you.”
After the town square, they rolled around Peril’s central neighborhood, where older houses like Missy’s were interspersed with smaller ones, some built in the forties and fifties. Landry was surprised to discover that all the homes looked occupied and well tended. Apparently not everyone had fled.
Landry pointed out the schools he’d attended, the DQ, the church his parents had dragged him to a few times a year, and the library.
“Where Tim Spohr almost got lucky,” Jordan said.
“Yeah. And where I spent a lot of my free time.”
There were newer houses nearer the edge of town. Nice ranch homes—without the ranch but with expansive front yards decorated with wagon wheels, flags, and miniature windmills and tractors. “In case anyone is in danger of forgetting we’re in Nebraska,” he scoffed.
“Don’t be a snob. It’s cute.”
And then they were driving past fields laid bare for the coming winter and farmsteads with a few dairy cows or a scattering of goats. Those didn’t last long either. Landry turned off the highway onto county roads surrounded only by rangeland—curving hills covered in brown grasses, small basins that held water from the last rains, mildly curious cattle watching from afar. And above them an endless sky of faded blue, streaked with a few wispy cirrus clouds.
Eventually Landry circled back toward town, but before they reached Peril, he parked near the railroad tracks. He and Jordan watched as a long coal train snaked its way eastward from Wyoming.
“See?” Landry felt the train rattling deep in his bones. “Not much in the way of sights.”
“It was probably really stifling when you were a kid. But I like it. It’s… sincere. Besides, traffic’s a whole lot better than in LA.”
“True.”
They sat there long after the train was gone. Silent, holding hands, staring off at the horizon.
Chapter Sixteen
“OH my God, Landry! You look sharp!”
Landry looked down at himself and then at Missy. “Is it too much? Am I overdressed?” He wore a brown-and-aqua windowpane sport coat with dark blue trousers and a dress shirt in a blue so pale it was almost white. His silk tie was a slightly psychedelic floral print in a spectrum of blues.
“No, but I’m starting to wonder if I’m underdressed.”
“You look fantastic, Miss. Really.” She’d never been fond of fancy clothes, and he wondered if she’d bought her pretty black dress especially for this occasion.
The whole family looked their best—Rod in a suit and tie and the twins similarly attired. “I was going to get Bryanna a dress,” Missy explained. “But she wanted a suit like Blake’s. Good choice, actually. She looks cute.”
“She does.” He cast Missy a sidelong glance, and she grinned and shrugged. A four-year-old’s decision to wear boys’ clothes instead of girls’ probably said nothing about her sexual orientation or gender identity, but Missy didn’t seem to care if it did. Neither did Rod, who proudly took a kid in each hand and posed for Missy’s picture-taking.
Jordan was a treat too. He wore his Vegas suit, which looked as if it had been made just for him. He’d brushed his hair back from his face, emphasizing his eyes and jawline. And his smile was at maximum level. “Wow, are we a gorgeous bunch or what? Hollywood ain’t got nothin’ on us.”
Missy took a lot more photos, until Rod pointed out that if they didn’t leave, they were going to be late.
“To what?” Landry whined.
Missy slugged him—gently. “Hold your horses, Wormy. You’ll find out soon enough.”
Then, after one last bathroom trip for the kids, they left the house. Missy and her crew got into their SUV, and Landry and Jordan got into the truck with Jordan behind the wheel.
“Do you know where we’re going?” Landry asked.
“Yep, but not why. Missy was gonna tell me, but I suck at keeping secrets so I told her she better not.”
“You obviously take Know thyself seriously.”
Jordan gave him a steady look. “I’ve always known my weaknesses. Just lately I’m getting a better view of my strengths.” He started the engine and pulled away from the curb.
They didn’t drive far. Jordan slowed to a crawl as they reached downtown, where Landry was astonished to see all the street-side parking spaces filled and a steady stream of pedestrians heading in one direction. “Are all these people—”
“You betcha. You’re the only game in town today, Lan.”
Landry’s mouth went dry. He yearned desperately for a cherry limeade from Sonic, a Quarter Pounder, his Vegas sweats, and a big-screen TV with a season of Parks and Recreation ready to go. He would rather have done a striptease on The Tonight Show than deal with whatever he was about to face. What version of the fabulous, famous Landry Bishop was this crowd expecting? Didn’t they realize he was just weird Wormy, that kid they used to shake their heads at? What the hell had Aunt Trudy done to him?
Landry thought Jordan was going to take them to the library, but they continued on another half block, where Aunt Trudy and an assortment of relatives stood in the driveway of a bright yellow bungalow. The front yard contained a swarm of people—some standing and talking, others milling around a sign obscured by a blue plastic tarp. Aunt Trudy gestured impatiently at Jordan to pull into the driveway as she herded everyone out of the way. When Jordan stopped the truck, she hobbled quickly to the passenger door and yanked it open. “Hurry! Everyone’s waiting for you.”
“Why?”
She rolled her eyes with a skill that any teenager would envy. “Get your butt in gear and you’ll see why.”
Dutifully Landry unbuckled and climbed out. “You look really nice, Aunt Trudy. That dress is perfect for you.” It was a caftan with peacock-colored abstract shapes highlighted by metallic dots and squiggles. On anyone else it might have been over-the-top, but it matched her bold, quirky personality.
Smiling, she gave the fabric a quick pat. “I’ve been waiting almost a year to wear it. Now come on.”
She led a procession toward the bungalow’s front porch, Landry and Jordan behind her and a phalanx of family buffering Landry from what seemed to be the entire population of Peril.
“You okay?” Jordan whispered.
Landry nodded and took his hand.
A wide, rainbow-striped ribbon blocked the house’s front door, and a strange delegation waited for them on the porch—middle-aged men and women in conservative, churchgoing clothes, plus a cluster of more creatively attired teenagers. One of the boys wore eyeliner and had purple stripes in his hair; he covered his mouth and bounced up and down as Landry came near.
People continued to file into the front yard, soon overflowing onto the sidewalk and adjacent properties. Various folks shook Landry’s hand, apparently including the mayor and city council—one member of which he vaguely remembered as his high school English teacher. She hugged him and told him how proud she was of him, although she didn’t say why. The kids introduced themselves too, the eyeliner boy so nervous and giggly that he could barely speak. Aunt Trudy watched all the interactions with a smug smile.
The mayor snagged Landry and began a monologue on Peril’s recent economic growth, which didn’t seem to have much to do with anything, but Landry nodded politely. After a few minutes Aunt Trudy tapped her cane against the mayor’s leg. “Can it, Norm. You’re not campaigning today. Let’s get this show going.”
Mayor Norm smiled sheepishly and shut u
p.
A thin woman handed him a cordless microphone. It took him a moment to figure out how to turn it on, and then he spent some time tapping it and saying “testing, testing.” Apparently satisfied it was working, he finally began. “Welcome, Peril!” he boomed. The speakers shrieked with feedback, but at least everyone stopped talking and turned toward the porch.
“Welcome!” Mayor Norm repeated but in a more moderate voice. “And thank you all for making the trek to our beautiful downtown on this fine Saturday afternoon. It’s a great pleasure to see so many of you here. I’m going to turn the mic over in a second, but first I’m supposed to remind you that after the ceremony, you should all head over to the community center, where we’ll have cookies, coffee, and punch. Sponsored by the fine folks of Ethel’s Eats and Svoboda Ranch and Home!”
He paused for a round of applause. The residents of Peril seemed excited at the prospect of a snack.
“And now let me hand things over to the woman who made this all possible, Trudy Bishop-Tucker!”
Nobody in the history of the world had looked more comfortable with a mic in her hand than Aunt Trudy. She held it with the confidence of a veteran performer, and she faced the crowd with an expression of supreme satisfaction. But before she said a word, she motioned imperiously at Landry, ordering him to stand at her side. He wondered if the crowd could tell how baffled he was.
“I was born right here in Peril,” Aunt Trudy began. “So were my parents and my grandparents. My great-grandparents came here in 1883. We’ve been around here near as long as the town itself. And you know what? In all those years, us Perilians have mostly kept to ourselves. We’re like a secret, and there’s a lot of us who like it that way.”
Enthusiastic clapping and cheers sounded in response.
“But even if we’re happy to be undiscovered, I guess we don’t mind a little fame rubbing off on us now and then. Earl Humphrey was from Peril, and he was one of the most important photographers of the early twentieth century. Our late congressman, LeRoy Redfield, he was from here. So was Helen Cooper, one of the first female radio broadcasters in Nebraska.”
Landry had heard of these people. Their names got trotted out regularly during his school years, usually accompanied by grainy black-and-white photos. But he still had no idea how he was involved.
After a dramatic pause, Aunt Trudy continued. “But you know what? In all the history of this town, we’ve never had two world-famous Perilians at the same time. But that’s what we have now.”
Ah. Landry shifted uncomfortably while trying to maintain a bland smile.
“Now, one of our boys, you all know about him. Jaxon Powers. I’m not a big fan of his music, but he sure did us proud, didn’t he? A genuine hero!” Wild applause. “And when he was done being a hero, he came home and gave a nice fat donation to our schools.” Even wilder applause. Landry joined in because he thought it was fantastic that Powers had decided to support art education in Peril. Some kids found their place in sports or academics, but for many of them, the drama club or marching band proved their real chance to shine, to feel pride in themselves.
Aunt Trudy clapped Landry’s shoulder a few times. “Our other famous boy, I’m so proud to say, is my own nephew, Landry Bishop. I think a lot of us folks remember when he was growing up, how he’d help out with decorating at various functions. He used to go through the mail-order catalogs with some of us to help us pick out clothing and furniture. Remember that?”
Oh God. Landry’s cheeks flamed. People must have thought him a bossy little twit, way too pretentious for his place.
And yet everyone in the crowd cheered and clapped, and if there was derision or irony in their actions, he couldn’t find it.
Aunt Trudy tapped him again. “Landry hasn’t had the chance to save a country yet. But he has always had the courage to be true to himself, to show us all who he really is, even when that was a really hard thing to do. Sure, he had the support of his family, but that didn’t mean he didn’t struggle. I love this town, but places like Peril don’t always appreciate the kind of special our Landry has.”
He was going to stop her. This was ridiculous. He wasn’t brave or special, and he didn’t deserve to have this kind of attention.
But Aunt Trudy ignored his pleading look. “After Landry graduated high school, he showed his bravery again. He went all the way to California on his own, at an age when a lot of kids can’t make it to the Barn Owl without finding trouble. He graduated college summa cum laude. And then he made a household name for himself—not by being the most outrageous or by squirming his way into the gossip columns, but by giving everyday people tips on making their lives brighter, more fun, more charming, more organized. And he’s been an inspiration to so many, showing folks how they can achieve their dreams and still remain humble.”
Landry touched his cheek and realized he was crying. He hadn’t known that anyone but Jordan thought of him this way—not even his own family. He’d thought all of Peril considered him that weird gay kid who ran off to make a career out of frivolities. But now all of these people were beaming at him, calling his name, and the eyeliner boy was crying too.
With a true sense of timing, Aunt Trudy waited until the din had faded just enough. Then she lifted her arms to silence everyone. “Our Landry has been through hardships. He’s lost too many people who loved him, way too soon. But he’s also a true example of how much our youths can achieve just by being their real, beautiful selves.”
He really wished he had a hanky. Or at least a tissue. But then, as if by magic, Jordan pressed a Kleenex into Landry’s hand. Landry dabbed at his eyes.
“Today couldn’t have happened without the support of the mayor, the city council, the Peril school district, many of our local businesses, and—most importantly—you, the people of Peril. And it is with great pleasure that today we can officially open the Landry Bishop Center for Youth Diversity.”
While Landry gaped and the audience erupted even louder than before, somebody pulled the tarp off the sign. Lettered both front and back, the sign sported the center’s name in rainbow-hued letters, and a brown hand clasped a peach-toned one. It was colorful, cheerful. Welcoming.
But Aunt Trudy wasn’t finished. “This center will serve as a haven for children and teenagers anywhere along the LGBTQI spectrum and their allies, as well as any young people in Peril who feel the need for community and acceptance and who want to build their unique strengths and make their voices heard. The center will provide counseling, education, leadership training, fellowship, and safe haven. We want every youngster in Peril to know they have value.”
After another round of raucous applause died down, Aunt Trudy turned to Landry. “Would you like to say anything, dear?”
Shit. How was he supposed to speak when his eyes swam with tears and his throat was tight with emotion? But he took the mic, wiped his eyes, and cleared his throat.
“Um… I don’t have a prepared speech. Mostly because until right now I had no idea what was going on. It’s no wonder the town is a secret—you all are really good at being hush-hush.”
Everyone laughed, which helped ease his tension.
“Anyway, I’m going to keep this short because you’re all raring to get at those cookies. I just want to say how… well, honored doesn’t even touch on how I feel. This might be the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me. It is so wonderful that Peril’s kids will have this place, especially because the center will be a big reminder to every one of them that Peril cares. That’s the best thing you can do for your children—love them for who they are.”
He took a deep breath and shot a quick smile at Jordan, who looked a little damp-eyed too. “I’m not going to lie to you. However much you accept them, some of your kids are going to leave Peril, just like I did. Maybe their best futures lie in Lincoln or New York or Tokyo. But when you build a place like this center, they know that no matter what, they’ll always have a home in Peril. Thank you all for giving them this preciou
s gift.”
And that was all he could manage, but it seemed to satisfy the crowd. Landry exchanged hugs with Aunt Trudy, Missy and her gang, an assortment of relatives, and everyone on the porch. Then someone handed him a pair of those silly oversize scissors, which Landry used to cut the ribbon across the door.
It took some time and a lot more hand-shaking, but eventually Landry got to enter the house. A young woman who introduced herself as Molly, the center’s director, led him on a tour—with stops for the Peril Gazette reporter to snap photos. The center boasted a large lounge area filled with comfortable furniture and a big-screen TV, complete with gaming system. The kitchen had been outfitted with commercial appliances, and all the rooms met ADA accessibility standards. There was office space as well as rooms that could be used for classes, meetings, or counseling sessions. Overall, the décor was bright and optimistic.
Down in the basement, Molly waved at empty desks and bookshelves. “We’re still gathering donations for this part, but we hope to have computers so the kids can do homework or write, plus a nice collection of diverse YA fiction.”
“Would a hundred thousand dollars fill those needs?”
Molly and the rest of the small group gasped, and Aunt Trudy took his arm. “You have no obligation to do this, Lan. We named it after you to honor you, not extort you.”
Landry didn’t regret his instinctive offer. “I’m not feeling bullied. I’d just really like to help.”
Molly surprised him with a fierce hug. “I can’t tell you how much this means to us.”
Eventually the tour ended. Landry signed autographs for a few people and posed with them, including the boy with the eyeliner. “I love your hair color,” Landry said as he scribbled his name on the flyleaf of one of his books. “It looks fantastic on you, and whoever did it did a great job.”
A girl poked the boy until he spoke. “I, um, did it myself.”
“And mine too!” said the girl, whose hair was shades of aqua. “Plus he painted this amazing mural in my bedroom. Oh my God, it’s so fantastic! Look!” She pulled out her phone, scrolled frantically, and then handed it to Landry.