23
Jem reached for the radio.
“And they both act like they’re so progressive,” Daniel said. It was the third time he’d made a version of the same comment. “But they’re not.”
Jem dropped his hand.
“I mean, my dad is, like, worse than closeted.”
“What’s worse than being closeted?”
“And my mom bought this stupid pride flag for the back of the minivan.”
“Okay.”
“Not the progress flag.”
“Oh.”
“Like, she didn’t even try to learn anything.”
“Yeah, but she bought the flag.” Jem was proud of himself for not saying the stupid flag.
“But it doesn’t mean anything because she doesn’t actually want things to change.
She’s totally into the Mormon patriarchy.
She wants men to tell her what to do. I asked her if she thought women should be able to get the priesthood, and she said the prophet told us that women already have access to priesthood power.
” When Jem didn’t say anything, Daniel added, as though he was connecting the dots, “She wants to be oppressed.”
“Yeah, well, it’s probably a little more complicated than that.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.” Jem flashed a grin. “Ask Tean.”
For a moment, Daniel’s mask of anger melted, and a smile floated up. But then he said, “His dad is the worst.”
Jem shrugged.
“He is. He kept trying to tell me I need to pray.”
“You do need to pray. I saw your ass hanging out of that skirt.”
Laughing, Daniel shoved Jem’s shoulder. “Stop! He kept telling me I need to understand my parents. How it’s not easy for my parents.
Well, it wouldn’t be hard for them if they weren’t brainwashed, right?
If they were just normal people who loved me for who I am, it wouldn’t be hard. It’s not like I’m a bad kid.”
“You stole a car.” But it was the wrong thing to say.
And the tone was wrong, too—too light, when the emotion in Daniel’s voice at the end was heavy, heavy, heavy.
Jem scruffed the boy’s hair. Daniel tried to turn away, but Jem squeezed the back of his neck.
“Hey. You’re not a bad kid. You want to know a big secret about growing up? ”
Daniel was wiping his cheeks and looking away. But since this was Daniel, and he’d never not had a smart mouth on him, he mumbled, “How much is it going to cost me?”
“This one is free. Your parents are who they are. And they’re not going to change. You’ve got to figure out what you’re going to do about it.”
Daniel ran knuckles over his cheek again. Lights shot past them on the freeway. A Charger cut across four lanes, trying to make an exit. This was Utah, so the rule was fuck y’all and get out of my way.
“Justin and I were talking about it,” Daniel’s voice was careful, like he was explaining something. “We did all the math. We could get an apartment if we both worked thirty hours a week and split it right down the middle. He knows a guy who would rent one to us.”
“Yeah, you can’t rent an apartment when you’re a minor, boner.”
“You can if you’re emancipated. Lupita was telling us about it. She did it when she was seventeen. You just have to prove you’re, like, being abused and stuff.”
“Daniel.”
“I’m not a kid! I hate going to school with—with them. They don’t know what anything’s like. They don’t know what real life is like. All they care about are their clothes and their phones and going to church. They don’t know anything about anything.”
“No, probably not. They’re teenagers and dumb as shit. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”
“Well, I’m not dumb as shit. I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah.”
“I can get a job. I can have my own life. I don’t have to listen to my dad bitch about me wanting to buy a wig because he’s scared that he’s gay and he’s forty fucking years old and doesn’t know what to do about it.”
“Look,” Jem said. “I get it. It’s not easy right now.
But it’s going to be a lot harder if you throw everything away.
You think life is going to be easy if you start working full-time and paying rent when you’re fifteen?
What about health insurance, dumbass? What if you get sick?
What if you want to go to college and get a job that’s not bagging groceries?
You think they’re going to let you in if you’re a high school dropout?
What about retirement? Are you going to start your own forty-one-K. ”
“It’s not a forty-one-K. It’s a four-oh-one-K. And I can get a GED. And I don’t need health insurance because I’m fine—”
“The whole point is you get it when you don’t need it.”
“—and I can figure out college later. I don’t know what I want to do. Maybe I don’t want a traditional career, like school and all that.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” But a moment later, Daniel said, like it was a challenge, “I could be an actor.”
Jem tried not to groan. This was a Tean conversation. This was one hundred percent—hell, a hundred and ten percent—a Tean conversation. Tean would know what to say. Something about being responsible and backup plans and how many people actually made a living as an actor.
But Jem wasn’t Tean, even if it probably would have made life easier. So, he said, “Okay.”
Daniel watched him out of the corner of his eye. He shifted a few times. Pulled at the seat belt. “Okay?”
“Okay. Go be an actor.”
“My parents won’t let me.”
“Get emancipated. Fuck, you don’t even need to do that. Run away.”
“My dad would find me and bring me back.”
“Not after the tenth time.”
Daniel plucked at the seat belt again. “I’d have to go to LA. It’s not like I could make a living as an actor here.”
“Steal their car.”
“I’m not going to steal their car.”
“Then hitchhike.”
Daniel’s cheeks darkened with a blush. “Why are you being like this?”
“Being like what? You want to do it on your own, do it on your own.”
“I didn’t say I was going to do it on my own.” He dipped his hand inside his hoodie, and when he brought it out again, the gold chain was draped across his fingers. “I have friends. They’d help me.”
The gold caught the light. In his head, Jem saw Daniel hiding the box so no one would see it. He saw Wendell leaning over the sofa, his eyes crawling across Daniel’s bare midriff.
Somehow, Jem’s voice was steady when he said, “Where’d you get that?”
Too late, Daniel seemed to realize what he’d done. He let the chain slither back beneath the hoodie. “Justin gave it to me.”
“Uh huh. That’s your friend? That’s who’s going to help you?”
“Yeah. We’d get an apartment together. That’s what I told you.”
“Okay. So, you’ve got a friend who’s going to help you.”
“Yeah, actually.”
“That’s a pretty nice friend, to help you like that and not want anything in return.”
“Why are you saying it like that?”
“Like what?”
The edge in Daniel’s voice was hurt more than angry. “Why are you being weird about this?”
“I’m just saying, it’s a pretty good friend who will give you something for nothing.”
“Justin is a good friend.”
“Justin.”
“Oh my God, what?”
“And what happens when Justin doesn’t want to be your friend anymore? What happens when he gets bored, or when he finds a new friend?”
“That’s not going to happen.”
The headlights racing toward them were so bright Jem had to squint. “What happens?”
“I’ll be fine. I don’t need anybody. I’m not going to ask you and Tean for help, if that’s what you’re worried about. I can do it on my own.”
Jem laughed. He didn’t mean to. It felt tangled, like one end was still hooked down in his guts and couldn’t quite get out.
“You don’t think I can,” Daniel said.
“I think you can. I don’t know why you’d want to.”
“You did it.”
“Yeah, and it’s hard as shit. You’ve got no one to help you. You can’t trust anybody. And the minute you think you’ve finally found somewhere nice, finally gotten—”
Home.
The yard would have been perfect for baseball.
Do you want a dog?
He’d stopped talking, and the gap was like the snapped end of a string.
He blinked out at the darkness, and the silhouette of the mountains against the light pollution, the orange glow of a traffic barrier flashing past. “You think you’ve finally gotten a decent place to stay, and then shit hits the fan.
Your roommate is dealing out of the living room.
The people below you get into the same fucking fight every day at three in the morning.
There’s a freak watching you come and go, and you know he’s going to try something. Go on. Go do that shit on your own.”
Some part of him had tuned itself to a dead channel, and his head was all static. He yanked at his coat. He wanted to put the window down.
Daniel was rubbing his eyes again. As the hiss and crackle of the static in Jem’s head quieted, Daniel’s sniffles and wet breathing made their way through.
“Come on,” Jem mumbled. He rubbed Daniel’s shoulder.
Daniel jerked away.
“I’m just saying it’s hard,” Jem said. He tried for normal.
He tried for easy. “Why do it the hard way when you don’t have to?
I know it sucks right now, but it’s only a few more years.
Stick it out. Finish high school. Get yourself ready for whatever you want to do—college, acting, whatever.
Don’t screw yourself over because you’re mad at your dad. ”
The hum of the tires rose between them.
“I don’t want to end up like him,” Daniel said. The words were so low, and so thick with tears, that Jem had to struggle to make them out.
“Hey. Hey, you won’t. You’re not. But you don’t want to end up like me either.”
Daniel nodded. But it was automatic, like a robot doing it. He curled up in the seat, drawing his knees to his chest, and put his head against the window. And he didn’t speak for the rest of the drive.
When they got to Daniel’s house in South Jordan, Daniel reached to undo the seat belt.
“Make sure you apologize for stealing the car,” Jem said.
Daniel nodded without looking at him.
“And we’ll see you this weekend. Gotta get you ready for prom.”
The seat belt snaked back, and Daniel grabbed his bag. He got out of the car. And he stood there, one hand on the door. He bent, looking into the car like he might say something. The chain glittered below the hollow of his throat.
“Thanks,” Daniel mumbled. And then, “Sorry.” He shut the door and turned toward the porch. The door opened before he got there, and Lucy stepped out. His mom’s face was tight, and she stood stiffly, her arms folded so that she was holding herself by the shoulders.
Jem waited until they had gone inside. He backed out of the driveway and started for I-15.
The gold catching the light.
I have friends. They’d help me.
The chain glowing against the boy’s smooth skin. The way he’d reached for it without even thinking about it. The way he’d lied.
I have friends.
Jem’s phone buzzed with a call.
“Hey,” Tean said, “are you still with Daniel?”
“No.”
The silence went on another moment, as though Tean were waiting for something. Then he said, “Okay, well, apparently Amy needs us to grab a prescription from her house.”
The words seemed like they were coming through glass.
After a few seconds, Tean said, “It’s in the refrigerator, which I guess is why she forgot it when she was packing.” Another pause. “I told her we could pick it up.”
Daniel’s hand hiding the jewelry box. Daniel hiding the chain under the sofa cushions. Daniel lying about it.
“Jem?”
“Hm?”
“Did you hear me?”
“Yeah. Her prescription.” The part of him trying to track the conversation recognized that Tean was waiting for something, so he scrambled for the right response. “I can get it.”
“I’m already out of the house.” Tean’s next breath was unhappy. “I couldn’t deal with my dad, who apparently is going to stay the night. Anyway, I just thought— Could you meet me there? I know it’s stupid, but I don’t want to go by myself.”
“Uh huh.”
“Okay. I know it’ll take you a while to get back. I’ll pick up some groceries and meet you there in, say, thirty minutes?”
“Hm.”
“Uh, okay.” Jem’s blood beat in his ears. And then Tean said, “Jem, is everything okay?”
“Yep.”
Daniel lying about it.
“All right,” Tean said slowly. “I’ll see you at Amy’s in about half an hour.”
Jem disconnected. He merged onto I-15. The Subaru’s engine got louder as he accelerated, and the sound filtered into his head. It was like that dead channel, the one he’d tuned in to earlier, getting louder and louder.
I have friends. They’d help me.
Hands that smelled like bleach. Hands reaching for him. Hands touching him.
I’ll help you.
Jem turned off his phone.
Twenty minutes later, the Subaru shot past the exit for Amy’s house.
And as he headed toward the foothills, he stretched across the passenger seat and took the garage remote from the glove compartment.