Of course. The rumor about Jason, Astrid mentioning that Eric had been through a bad breakup. But how could I have known? Just because they were both gay didn’t mean they’d been a couple. They were such an unlikely pair.
We went and sat back down, and Eric started talking. “We met in church—we went to the same Sunday school class for years. And I think we probably both reacted the same way when the minister would rant and rave about the evils of homosexuality and all that. We were both closeted, though he was way more scared of people finding out than I was. I just figured it was no one’s business but mine, and I wasn’t ready to talk to my family yet. But his family was super religious, and he figured they’d completely freak out if they knew about him. Not to mention that even though they live on the east side, they have, like, no money, and he was counting on this church scholarship to go to college. If they found out he was gay, there was no chance he’d get it.”
So that’s what he’d meant the other day: Most people around here would rather stay closeted than run the risk of losing a scholarship because your church found out you were gay. I’d assumed he’d just been making an offhand comment, but he’d really been talking about Jason.
Eric paused to take another sip of water, and I realized on some level he wanted to tell the story to someone, start to finish, the way he’d probably not been able to before.
“That must have been really hard for both of you,” I said.
“It was,” he said, sounding grateful. “I know he can be a real asshole, but he wasn’t like that when we were alone. He was different. It’s hard to explain. But we were happy. At least I thought we were.”
“But something happened,” I said. “The night of Stephanie Caster’s party.” That must have been the night they broke up, but I didn’t want to say it out loud.
“The very same,” he said. “I still don’t know all the details—Jason and I haven’t so much as looked at each other since. But I can guess. I think his friends found out, and they freaked. Told him if he wanted to hang out with them, he had to end it, and no one could ever find out. So he did. Via an extremely unpleasant text message.” He laughed, but it was a dark, ugly laugh.
“And that’s why you called Astrid?”
“No, I knew she had that party to go to, and it sounded like it was really important for her to be there—I didn’t know the details. But I guess Trevor and Ryan thought it wasn’t enough that Jason break up with me; they had to make sure to keep me busy enough not to try and get him back.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant. “How?”
“They outed me to my parents. That was when I snapped. I wanted to call Astrid, but I was hysterical. I could barely talk I was crying so hard.”
Something about that made me almost jealous; I wondered if it was because I hadn’t yet been able to cry for Hayden.
“I picked the girls up but I still couldn’t talk,” he said. “I think Astrid thought something had happened to me, like physically. When we got to the party she refused to get out of the car; she told Jess that it would be okay, that she’d be there soon, but she needed some time with me. I didn’t ask her to stay, but in a lot of ways I’m really grateful she did, even though I know it screwed everything up. I still feel guilty about that.”
You and me both, I thought, but I didn’t say it. I didn’t know what to say, really. I thought about when I’d said something about Eric’s family accepting him, how Astrid had said, “They do now,” and Eric had basically shut her down. I’d stepped in it without realizing, and I didn’t want to do it again. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“Thanks. It’s okay now—it’s not like I wasn’t going to tell them; I just wanted to do it on my own time, in my own way. They’re not homophobes or anything; they just haven’t been around gay people all that much, and it’s taking them some time to get used to the idea that their firstborn isn’t what they thought he was. But in some ways it’s made my life easier—now I don’t have to worry all the time about people finding out, and I can dress and act how I want.”
Like Astrid, I thought. “I’m guessing you’re not thanking those guys for the opportunity, though.”
“Hardly,” he said. “Like I told you the other day, I’m fine with them getting what they deserve. To a point.” It was an odd thing to say, and I wasn’t sure how to take it. “But that’s partly why I’m so excited about the race tomorrow. I’m going to destroy Ryan, even with him driving Trevor’s fancy new truck. He has no idea what he’s getting into.”
That’s exactly what I was worried about. I wasn’t sure how to ask what I really wanted to know. I mean, I’d been looking for someone else who had a vendetta against the trifecta, and now I’d found him. Did that mean I had the answer to my question? Did that mean I finally knew who was behind the attacks?
Except the way he talked about what happened—he sounded kind of like me. And if we both thought things had gone a little too far, did it make sense for either of us to be responsible? “You’re going to destroy him at the race,” I said, hoping he would understand.
“Yes, at the race,” he said, and I thought maybe he did. “I can beat him, because he sucks, and he thinks Trevor’s truck is like, magical or something, but it isn’t, and this is the one place I can completely humiliate him on his own terms, and I’m going to do it. And that’s what I need to focus on right now.”
He sounded like me again. We both wanted Ryan to get what he deserved, but in public. Where everyone would know exactly what happened. Still, I had to be sure.
“Fair and square?” I said.
“Fair and square,” he said. “I mean it. This kind of thing can be really dangerous if you screw around.” I remembered that stupid TV show that got canceled when a bunch of dudes got trapped in their truck.
“I wasn’t sure how worried you were about things being dangerous,” I said.
He gave me a look, and now I was sure he knew what I was talking about. “I worry,” he said quietly. “More than you think.”
“I’m glad,” I said. “Good luck.” I still wasn’t as sure as I wanted to be—if it wasn’t me and it wasn’t Eric, I was at a loss to think of who was left, but I wanted to believe there could be someone else. And I really wanted to believe that the only bad thing that was going to happen to Ryan was that he was going to lose the race. I hoped it was true.
And I was looking forward to being there to see it.
RACHEL TOOK ONE LOOK AT ME as I came downstairs Saturday afternoon and sent me back upstairs to change. “Which part of ‘mudding’ did you not understand? You’re going to be covered. Find something crappier.”
I wasn’t exactly dressed fancy, but when I saw Rachel and Jimmy I understood. They were both wearing all black, with raincoats and big clunky boots—Rachel’s were rubber, Jimmy’s were combat, duh—and while I wasn’t familiar enough with Jimmy’s wardrobe to tell, I knew Rachel’s clothes were really old; I recognized her leggings as ones she usually reserved for use as pajamas. I put on an old sweatshirt, my oldest jeans, and winter boots and got the nod from Rachel.
“What exactly is happening here?” Mom asked. “You all look ridiculous.”
I didn’t point out that, as far as I was concerned, Rachel and Jimmy tended to look kind of ridiculous all the time. Not to mention that Mom was wearing her work outfit; her scrubs today were covered with little ducks.
She must have seen me looking at her. “Don’t say it,” she warned, and then turned to Jimmy. “Drive safe,” she said. “You’ve got my whole life in your car.”
Jimmy gestured as if tipping his chauffeur hat. “I’m on it, Mrs. Goldsmith.”
We still had a few days to go before Halloween, but the air was chilly, and Rachel’s hair tangled in the wind as we walked outside to Jimmy’s car. I wished I’d brought a coat, but I had a long-sleeved T-shirt on under my sweatshirt, and I hoped it would be enough. “You’re sure this is a good idea?” I asked as I got into the backseat, surprisingly clean given how much trash was in the front.