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“Um?”
“Well …” Mrs. Garner chastised, saving me from pointing out that I’d met Brett’s little brother for the first time mere hours earlier. She leaned toward Brett with laughing eyes. “… Maybe stop calling him Shorty, then.” In a softer voice, she continued, “Do you really think he and Austin …” Her voice trailed off as the boys arrived, Mrs. Garner looking at the two of them like it was the first time she was seeing them.
Dalton stood between his brother and me and set the small plates in front of each of us, moving to his brother’s other side and mumbling as he put one down at an empty chair, “Dad will show up eventually.” His brother stuck an elbow out to nudge him, but the look he gave him was more sympathetic than teasing.
Austin put the tray of appetizers down as Dalton finally looked around the table, full of silent people staring at him, and said, “What?”
“What, what?” his brother jumped in. “We’re just sitting here, watching you two idiots idiot. You know, for a change.”
“That’s some masterful grammar there, college boy,” his brother quipped back.
“Yeah, Brett, how exactly does one idiot? I idiot, you idiot, he, she, they idiot.” Austin contributed, and all awkwardness was wiped away as the two friends sat while we all laughed.
We dove into the appetizer platter, which I was surprised to find was more gourmet than bar food, the witty banter continuing.
I found myself staring at the two younger boys. Unambiguously gay, Brett had called them. Not as an insult, and not as if he were outing them to his mother. And definitely not as if it meant the two were damned to Hell for all eternity.
Just two fifteen-year-olds, who were out. I would be graduating in a few months and, for lack of a better plan, heading home to the Milwaukee suburbs and the Christ’s Church congregation. I couldn’t imagine goofing around with a friend over a jukebox, much less coming out to my parents. Or having them talk about whether or not I might start dating another boy.
It made me feel like I needed to make the most of my last semester and that trip to New Orleans.
Chapter Three
Dalton at Seventeen
“I’m fucking freezing,” I said as I hoisted myself out of the pool. Usually, my workouts kept me warm, but it had been more than a week since the weather had made it above freezing, and the heat in the big open room that housed our school’s indoor pool couldn’t keep up with the brutal cold outside.
“Yeah, well, that’s because you insist on spending all of your time in the fucking pool. It’s winter break, Dalton. Swim team is over for what, like, six months. You could just take a break, too, you know,” Austin bitched at me from his perch on a chair, where he sat with his feet on the seat, his arms wrapped around them, and a beach towel around his shoulders, bundled and cozy while I pushed my body in the water.
I’d thought about taking a break from doing laps, especially considering the cold streak, but I really liked being in the pool. It helped to keep me in shape, which had become increasingly important as I’d grown and finally begun to fill out. Being in the water was also a great way to shut out the outside world and shut off my brain as I focused on my strokes.
To Austin, I confessed the other reason I was so diligent about visiting the pool. “I need to stay in shape for lifeguarding.”
“Whatever, man. Put some fucking clothes on. You look so cold that my nuts are shrinking.”
“You know, you didn’t have to come with me. Or, and I know this is going to sound crazy, you could have hopped in the pool too.”
“Hello, shrinkage? That does sound crazy. Besides, I’m not on swim team anymore, remember?”
I just looked at him, silently asking, Why are you here, then? as I whipped the towel off his shoulders and wrapped myself in it. For an evil second, I thought about shaking my hair out in his direction, but I wasn’t that cruel, and besides, I’d been keeping it really short. It was just easier, based on the amount of time I spent in the water.
“What? Why am I here?” He raised his eyebrows. “You know why I’m here.”
I raised mine right back at him.
“Yeah,” he continued. “Well, you’re not usually the only swim-obsessed high schooler floating around in that water, are you?”
“Fuck off. I’m not floating around, and I knew it! You have a crush on …”
“Don’t say it. Don’t you dare name names.”
“I don’t know why you won’t tell me who it is!”
“Because it’s stupid to pine after the most hetero of heteros. And, as you and I have discussed a million times, we have absolutely no confirmation that anyone else on the swim team is queer.”
“Not even …”
“No names!” Austin followed me to the locker room and straddled a bench while I headed to the showers. When I got out, he picked up our conversation as if no time had passed.
