Ask the Passengers
Page 12

“Dude? Did you hear me?” Kristina says. “You’re going to call Jeff.”
“Why?”
“So we can go out.”
“I think I can go out without having to drag Jeff Garnet into my life,” I say.
Kristina is lying on my bed, dressed in sweats, looking awesome, even though I know she probably rolled out of bed five minutes ago, hasn’t showered and probably hasn’t even brushed her teeth. I’m sitting on my windowsill because I’m still in my shrimp-flavored catering pants.
“We have to come home a little later than the Claire and Gerry Jones curfew,” she says. That’s eleven thirty on Friday and Saturday nights. And I’ve never used it due to my work hours… and the fact that I don’t have anyone to go out with. “That’s why Jeff is the perfect cover. Claire’s been bugging me all year to find you a boyfriend. So, now we’ve found him.”
“Can’t we find a guy who talks? All he ever does is stare and say things like ‘hi’ and ‘hey,’ and he jiggles his leg. I don’t know. I mean…”
“Can you just listen? This is the only way we can get you out late enough for the plan to work. Trust me. I have Claire wrapped around my finger.”
“Then why can’t you be my cover?” I ask.
She thinks about this for a millisecond. “Jeff would work better. I mean, even just at the beginning. Plus, it would keep Claire quiet for a minute.”
“If we’re doing all this conspiracy stuff to get me out of the house, can you at least tell me where we’re going?”
“You know.”
I’m looking at her like she’s stupid. “If you want to drink, can’t Justin get anything he wants from his brother?”
“It’s not about drinking.”
“What other reason is there to go to a bar? And to get Jeff Garnet to lie for me?”
“It’s not just any bar,” she says. “You know that.”
We hear Mom moving around on her office chair two rooms away. Kristina makes the motion for get dressed and let’s get out of here. So I shoo her to the stairs, take off my catering clothes, throw on some clothing and pop my head into Mom’s office. “We’re taking a drive. Back in an hour.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. Probably to the lake.”
“Fine. Just make sure your room is clean by three,” she says.
“Why do you want me to come to a g*y bar with you?” I ask. Maybe she already knows. Maybe I already show up on g*ydar, even though I don’t clearly show up on my own.
“With me and Donna and Justin and Chad,” she corrects.
I glance at her with suspecting eyes. “I don’t get it.”
She raises one eyebrow. “What’s there to get? I already told you there are straight people there.”
So when she says that, I think maybe I do get it. I mean, she’s not implying I’m g*y, right? She’s just trying to get me to go out.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Seems like a big risk for me to take when I don’t really want to drink or anything.”
“Dude, it’s not about drinking. It’s about letting loose and being around people who don’t give a rat’s ass about you. It’s… like… the opposite of Unity Valley.”
I pull into the parking area of the lake, and we sit at a picnic table. The place is empty except for the pickup trucks and trailers at the other end of the parking lot that belong to the horse people who come and ride the trails on the weekends.
Kristina has her thumb on Jeff’s number, but I still don’t feel right. I say, “Can we just chill for a minute before you call? I want to think it over.”
What if we can’t get in? What if Jeff says no? What if we get caught? What if I get hit on by women who are old enough to be my mother? What if Dee goes there and all my worlds collide? What if people see us? What if I get an answer?
What if I get an answer?
What if. I get. An answer?
I laugh to myself, and Kristina asks, “What’re you laughing at?”
“Nothing.”
“Not fair.”
“I was thinking about getting hit on by old ladies the same age as Claire,” I say.
She laughs. “Could happen.”
I ask, “Aren’t you afraid we’ll get caught?”
“Cops are busy solving real crimes. A bunch of underage queer kids is the last thing they care about. Not to say you’re queer or anything. I meant the rest of us,” she adds.
I say, “What if someone sees us? What then?”
“Don’t you think they’d be equally concerned that we don’t tell people we saw them?”
I sigh. I know Kristina isn’t going to take no for an answer.
“Exactly what are you going to tell Jeff that will make him cover for me?” I ask.
“It’s easy,” she says. “I’m going to promise him beer and a double date with me, you and Justin at the diner next week in exchange for telling Claire that he’s taking you to the midnight movies tonight.”
I sigh.
“Leave it to me,” she says. “I know what I’m doing.”
She pulls out her phone and presses some buttons with her thumb, and we both look up, watching clouds—or, in my case, planes. When Jeff answers, she cons him into calling my mom later and telling her a few lies in exchange for liquor.
Then she hands the phone to me but keeps her ear close so she can hear what Jeff says.
“Hey, Jeff. Thanks for this,” I say.
“Sure. I’m really glad you’re taking me up on my offer.”
He sounds like a happy puppy. I feel horrible. I’m reminded of Tim Huber, and my stomach churns.
Kristina makes the motion for me to pass it back to her.
“Hey, Garnet,” she says. “Just remember—you can’t tell anyone. I hear one word on the street about this, there’s no more booze and no date for you. Dig?”
She hangs up.
I say, “Wow, you’re all connected to shit I don’t know anything about, man.”
“Oh, he’s just a boy who wants booze,” she says. “He heard Justin got a bottle of gin for Tyler and Vince, and now he wants some, too. Quid pro quo, you know?”
I’m watching a high-flying plane, and I send some random love to it. I’m wondering if any of the people on the plane say quid pro quo. I’m wondering if any of them live in a small town like we do. If they’ve ever snuck out on a Saturday night. (To a g*y bar.) If they’ve ever wondered what making love to a girl must feel like. I ask them: Is it okay to lie in order to be happy?