Trailer Trash(93)

It was said so frankly, in such a matter-of-fact tone, that Cody was reminded of Logan, and he laughed. “They really are.” He opened the door, but stopped with one foot out. “Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem. And Cody?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell Nate . . . Hell, I don’t know what. Just tell him I hope he’s back to school soon.”

“I will.” Cody didn’t bother to tell her he was hoping the exact same thing.





Nate’s father skipped work the next day. Nate heard him downstairs, pacing the kitchen, talking on the phone for what felt like hours at a time. Nate’s stomach grumbled angrily, wanting breakfast, but he stayed sequestered in his room, unable to face the confrontation waiting for him downstairs.

Eventually, his dad called him down for lunch, and later for dinner, but he never sat with Nate to eat. The only time he spoke was to ask Nate for the names of the boys involved. Other than that, he barely even looked at Nate, and Nate returned to his room each time, hanging his head.

His dad kept him home the next day too, and the day after that. Nate began to wonder if it was going to be like this from now on. It was like being in prison, only emerging from his room for meals. At least the physical pain from the beating was receding, the swelling in his face going down, and he hadn’t peed blood again since that first night.

His body was healing, even if his heart wasn’t.

On Thursday, Nate broke the silence.

“Is anything going to happen?” He was at the table eating the Hamburger Helper his dad had put down in front of him. His dad was at the other end of the kitchen, washing the dishes and pointedly ignoring Nate. “You asked for the names of the boys who jumped us. Did you talk to them or anything?”

His dad sighed, but didn’t turn to face him. “There isn’t much I can do. I’m not allowed to pursue it myself. I have to give it to one of the other officers, and in cases like this, it comes down to your word against theirs. And one of them has an uncle who works for the sheriff’s office.” He shook his head. “It’s complicated. But the short version is no, it’s being chalked up to boys being boys.”

Nate considered that, staring at his dad’s back. “You think I deserve it anyway, don’t you? This is what I get for being gay?”

“I don’t think you deserve it,” his dad said quietly. “But, like it or not, sometimes things like this happen when you insist on being different.”

Nate didn’t ask anything else after that. He wasn’t sure he could stand to hear the answer.

But on Friday, his father surprised him by coming into his room a bit after three. Nate had been lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to his copy of the tape he’d made Cody for Christmas. He sat up quickly, turning off the music. His dad sank heavily into the chair by Nate’s desk.

“I’m sending you away.”

That was it. One simple sentence dropped like a bombshell into the landscape of Nate’s life. “I don’t want to go.”

“It isn’t open for debate. I’ve made up my mind.”

“Where are you sending me? Home to Mom?”

“No.” There was something about the way he said it. Something about the tightness in his shoulders, and his hands, clenched in his lap. Nate’s heart sank. He’d only had one stilted phone call with his mom since the night Greg had answered the phone, but he’d always assumed things would sort themselves once summer arrived and he went home for a visit.

“You talked to Mom, right?”

His dad’s head jerked in an awkward nod.

“And?”

His dad sighed, shaking his head. “There’s no reason for you to hear the things she said.”

Nate swallowed, more hurt by that than he had been by the kicks he’d taken to his kidneys. “Was it that bad?”

“Well . . .”

Yes, it was that bad, apparently. Bad enough that even his father, who hated the thought of Nate’s homosexuality, didn’t want to repeat it. At least she wouldn’t expect him to call home every week now. He tried to tell himself he didn’t care.

“Nate, this is for the best. It really is.”

“For who? For you?”

“For you. I’ve talked to your Aunt Cora.” Cora, his dad’s sister, who lived in Chicago. His dad had always jokingly called her a “pinko commie,” which had nothing whatsoever to do with actual communism. It was simply his dad’s way of saying Cora was a bleeding-heart liberal compared to him. “We’ve planned all along for you to go to Chicago after graduation. After what’s happened, we think it’s best if you go now. Cora’s pretty open-minded about this kind of thing. She’s been working all week to get you enrolled in school there. You’ll be able to start on Monday, and graduation won’t be a problem.”