Christ, he was going to have some girl from the Grove following him around like a lost puppy by the end of the day.
“You look ridiculous.”
Nate didn’t even blink. “You need a haircut.”
That was true, but Cody chose not to answer, turning to look out the window as Nate pulled out of the gas station and turned toward the school.
“I still think you should have gone for the parachute pants and the leather jacket.”
Cody laughed, despite himself. “Maybe next time.”
His stomach clenched as they turned into the parking lot. Already, the groups had formed—the preps and jocks by the big Walter Warren High School sign in front of the school, posing so everybody could see which brands they were sporting. The cowboys were gathered near the corner of the building, keeping to themselves. A few of the nobodies who didn’t fit in anywhere were huddled around the flagpole, talking quietly and doing their best not to be seen. Cody wished he could be one of them—one of the regular students who mostly went unnoticed—but even that didn’t seem to be an option for him. And off in the corner of the parking lot were the few people Cody might have called friends, the other trailer-park residents, gathered in a circle as if that could hide the cigarettes they were smoking.
All those little cliques, and Cody imagined every single one of them turning to watch as Nate parked. Jennifer Parker raised her hand to wave at them. Well, to wave at Nate, at any rate. Then she glanced at Cody, and her brow wrinkled in confusion. She leaned toward her friends, and they all started talking, glancing pointedly toward the Mustang.
“I take it you’ve met her already?” It surprised Cody, because Nate hadn’t mentioned it.
“Once.” Nate didn’t seem inclined to elaborate. He killed the engine and sat there, fiddling with his class ring, sizing it all up. “It’s so small. I mean, is this everybody?”
“I’m sure there are a few more inside.”
“How many students, though?”
“About two hundred total.”
Nate whistled through his teeth and looked down at his class ring. “My graduating class alone back in Austin was four hundred and thirty two.” He scowled. “I guess it isn’t my graduating class anymore.” He scanned the groups again. “Do they ever mix?”
“On the surface, sure. I mean, like you said, the school isn’t that big. We all have classes together. Or, you know, some of the cowboys are on the wrestling team and the football team with the jocks. But once lunchtime rolls around—”
“Or parties on the weekend?”
“Right. Then you gotta know where you belong. And if you don’t, they’ll sure as hell let you know.” Nate glanced Cody’s way, and Cody shook his head, refusing to meet Nate’s eyes. “There’s a few people who manage to sort of float between them all, you know? Like Logan Robertson and Christine Lucero.”
“Christine? I think I met her too.”
Cody looked over at him, his curiosity piqued. “When was this?”
“Last week. The day before we went to Rock Springs. I went out to some mine with a few of them.”
For some reason, that hurt. Cody couldn’t quite say why. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew you’d make a big deal out of it.” And Nate’s tone told him that was exactly what he thought Cody was doing.
“What’d they say about me?”
“Nothing.”
Cody knew he was lying by the way he clenched his jaw and refused to look at him, but they must not have given him the full scoop, or Nate wouldn’t have insisted on Cody riding to school with him. “Did you bang Christine?”
Nate’s head whipped his way. “What? No!”
“Somebody did. Logan can go from group to group because he’s the quarterback, and he does what he wants. That’s just how he is, but Christine only manages because she puts out.” He felt guilty for saying it though. He liked Christine. “It ain’t her fault, you know. Her dad makes my dad look like Father of the Year. Show me a girl who can’t say no, I’ll show you a girl who’s spent too many birthdays staring out the window, waiting for her daddy to show. Seems like having a deadbeat dad’s harder on girls than it is on us, you know?”
This was met with dead silence, and Cody squirmed, wondering why he’d said so much. He finally made himself look over at Nate. He couldn’t read Nate’s expression—he was either impressed, or sad, or both. “No, I didn’t know. I hadn’t ever quite realized that, but you’re right. The girls I knew back home with that kind of reputation . . .” He leaned back in his seat, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, staring at some distant point in the sky, miles beyond the high school. “So what happens to boys with deadbeat moms?”