Trailer Trash(12)

“Warren’s all right,” Christine said. “My parents say there’s nothing worth watching on cable anyway, and the antenna works well enough.”

“Well enough for what?” Brian asked. “Jesus. I get static more often than not, and the radio’s worse.”

“Cable, but no MTV,” Jennifer said. “I mean, they have it in Casper and Laramie, but not here. And I wish we didn’t have to drive all the way to Colorado or Utah to find a mall!”

“There’s a mall in Casper,” Christine said, but all the others immediately laughed.

“Eastridge barely qualifies,” Brad said.

“It isn’t fair,” Jennifer went on. “Laramie’s less than an hour from Fort Collins, and only another hour past that to Denver. Evanston’s an hour from Salt Lake, and people up in Sheridan can get to Billings. But we’re stuck in the goddamn middle of nowhere. It’s an hour and a half to Rock Springs, and that’s barely even a town!”

“The shopping isn’t the worst of it,” Brad said. “It’s the music! I wish we didn’t have to drive eight hours to see a damn concert.”

Nate wished they’d quit talking about it. They were only making him hate Warren more than he already did.

Brian tossed Nate a can of Old Milwaukee. “You’re cool, right? You won’t tell your dad or anything?”

It seemed a bit late for them to be asking that question, but Nate said, “No. I won’t tell.”

Over the next hour, the sexual dynamic of the group became clear. One of the Jennifers—the one with smaller bangs—liked Brian. Brian liked big-bangs Jennifer, who seemed to be focused on Nate. Brad was clearly trying to get into Christine’s pants, and despite her obvious desperation to fit in, Nate had a feeling the only reason she’d scored an invite at all was because Brad wanted to get laid.

“Where’ve you been hanging out?” Brad asked.

Nate swallowed a bit of beer, debating his answer. “Nowhere.”

“I saw him with Cody Lawrence,” Christine volunteered. “At the gas station.” She looked around for some kind of approval of her statement. “Last week, and again yesterday.”

They all looked at Nate. Brad smirked. “Cody? He’s a loser.”

Christine scowled and crossed her arms. “He’s nice. Just because he isn’t from Orange Grove—”

“He’s worthless trailer trash,” Brian said, as if it were the final verdict.

Christine looked away, biting her lip. Nobody else spoke. Nate took a long pull on his drink and wondered what to do. Cody was the only friend he had, but even he could see that they were from different worlds. Cody seemed to assume Nate would end up being friends with this group—the “rich kids” from Orange Grove. Nate wasn’t sure if he wanted to fit in with them or not.

A few minutes later, Brian pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. Except on closer inspection, it wasn’t exactly a cigarette. He lit it and made a show of taking a big hit and holding the smoke in his lungs as he passed the joint to his left. Nobody commented on it, and Nate’s heart began to beat faster than normal. He’d tried pot once back home, but it had been with friends he was comfortable with. None of them had been serious about it, and he was pretty sure none of them had actually inhaled. But everybody in this group seemed to be fairly familiar with it.

Cody had told him to expect it. Still, Nate was beginning to see just what being in such a small town meant. Back in Austin, there’d been all kinds of people to hang around with. If he was uncomfortable with one group, he could just move to another. There was lots of overlap between the cliques. People he knew from the swim team or the tennis team might also be on student council, or in metal shop, or in the chess club. The lines were fluid, and it allowed for a great deal more individuality. At the time, he hadn’t appreciated it, but looking back, he could see now that his social options had been limitless.

But here in Warren, his choices were few. And just as Cody had said, there wasn’t much to do. No movie theaters. No malls. No arcades, libraries, or skating rinks. There was nothing but a run-down bowling alley, a soda shop that closed at five, a rock quarry where the cowboys hung out, and apparently an old mine, where the preps and jocks got high. There was beer, and weed, and guessing from the activities going on between Christine and Brad on the other side of the fire, plenty of sex, but not much else.

The joint inevitably came to Nate, and he tried not to be too obvious about taking the smallest hit ever.

“You going out for football?” Brian asked as Nate passed the joint on.