Trailer Trash (6 page)

Brian finished off the joint. It wasn’t long before he gave up on the Jennifer he obviously preferred and started making out with the one who wanted him. Brad and Christine hadn’t come up for air in ages. That left Nate and big-bangs Jennifer, who scooted closer, looking hopeful. He felt trapped and completely out of his element.

Dear God, get me out of here!

His dad’s policy had always been “call if you need a ride home.” He claimed it didn’t matter where Nate was or what kind of situation he’d gotten into, his dad would rather Nate call than ride with somebody who’d been drinking, or stay at a party where Nate was being pressured to do something he wasn’t comfortable with. Nate had always laughed at the idea before, but suddenly, he wanted more than anything to take his dad up on that offer. He wanted to beg his dad to take him home, even if “home” meant their house in Orange Grove. But he was a long way from a pay phone. More people were arriving too, all of them eyeing him, sizing him up. He didn’t want to deal with any of them.

He made a show of looking at his watch. “I need to get home. My dad’ll kill me if I miss curfew.”

Jennifer squinted at the three Swatches on her left wrist. “It’s only ten thirty.”

“I know, but he’s pretty strict. Can you give me a ride?”

“I’ll come with you,” a girl who’d just shown up said. “I’m out of cigarettes, and we can pick up more beer on the way back.”

Nate ceded shotgun to the newcomer, who introduced herself as Michelle. She and Jennifer hit him with a barrage of questions as they made their way through the winding, unpaved county roads. Where was he from? Why had he moved to Wyoming? Where had he been hanging out? Did he have a girlfriend back in Texas? Nate answered in a monotone without ever saying Cody’s name. He just wanted out of the car.

He breathed a sigh of relief when they finally entered Orange Grove. There was a house for sale on every block. So many homes, most of them less than ten years old, but nobody was buying. At least a third of the empty houses had broken windows and graffiti spray-painted across their sides.

It was downright depressing. No wonder getting high was such a popular pastime.

“Back already?” his dad asked when he walked in. “You’re an hour before curfew. Did you have fun?”

“It was kind of lame.”

He went upstairs and showered, washing the smell of bonfire smoke from his hair. He climbed into bed and thought about Austin. About the tennis team, which he was no longer a part of, and his old bedroom, and his friend Mike, and all the times they’d complained that there was nothing to do in Austin.

What a fool he’d been.

“Have you been to the Basement yet?” Cody’s mom asked a week before school started. She’d come home from work and gone straight to the shower, and now she sat with her hair combed but still dripping, the shoulders of her Led Zeppelin T-shirt soaked through, a cigarette smoldering between her fingers. She kept her eyes glued on the TV, even when she asked him a question.

“Not yet.”

She’d given him a bit of money from her tip jar the week before. It wasn’t much, but he knew it wasn’t her fault. She worked hard waiting tables, and there were too many expenses and not enough left over in the end. Cody tried looking for work of his own every so often, but there weren’t many jobs in Warren to go around, especially now that the boom was over. With too few businesses and too many unskilled workers, most of the entry-level jobs went to adults, many of them fresh out of high school and already trying to support kids. The few spots left for teenagers usually went to family members and friends, and Cody was neither. Sometimes there was seasonal work to be had—mowing lawns, painting houses, shoveling snow—but those never lasted, and neither did the few dollars they brought in.

He appreciated that she’d given him what she could. Yes, he wished like hell there was more, but at least she tried, and he recognized that every time she handed him money—even a few dollars—it meant something she was giving up for herself. Maybe it was only a couple of drinks at the bar, but it wasn’t like she hadn’t earned them. If a few beers on Thursday night was the high point of her week, Cody understood. In a place like Warren, you took what distractions you could find.

For himself, he had a new distraction: Nate. Every evening, when Nate dropped him off at the end of the day, he’d say, “Want to meet again tomorrow?”

Cody’s heart did the same funny little dance every time. He tried not to get his hopes up too high—it was only until school started—but like his mom with her drinks, he chose to take what happiness he could when the opportunity presented itself. When they got tired of playing cards, they drove around town. They even stopped at a yard sale and picked up an eight-track tape for fifteen cents, just to test the player in Nate’s Mustang. It turned out it still worked, and after that, Nate stopped at every yard sale he found in search of more. Cody couldn’t help counting those coins as Nate handed them over, thinking how he could have put them to better use, but it was Nate’s money, and it made the afternoons a bit more fun. They ended up with a ridiculous collection—everything from KISS to the Bee Gees to the soundtrack from
Pete’s Dragon
—but it was better than the country station out of Casper and the static that filled the rest of the radio bands.

His mom was watching him now, waiting for him to elaborate on his answer. “Maybe I’ll go tomorrow.” The truth was, there was a better store in Rock Springs, but he hadn’t worked up the nerve yet to ask Nate for a ride.

His mom went back to watching TV, but a minute later, she ground her cigarette out and stood up. As she passed him, heading to the kitchen, presumably to scrounge up something to eat, she laid a bundle of folded bills on the coffee table in front of him.

Cody’s heart sank a bit.

She didn’t say a word. Just opened the fridge, pulled out a beer, then stood there staring in, the unopened beer in one hand while she contemplated their severe lack of food.

Cody licked his lips, debating. Leaving it lying there wouldn’t change what had been done. He picked it up and unfolded the small bundle with shaking hands. It was more money than his mom should have made waiting tables. He closed his eyes, trying to find his center. Trying to find that quiet place inside of him where he didn’t have to feel anything.

He wished he’d never made a big deal out of it. He wished he’d never even mentioned his clothes not fitting.

Too late now.

The money felt dirty in his hands. He imagined he could feel its taint seeping into his flesh, leaking into his bloodstream, rushing headlong for his heart. He didn’t want these crumpled, fading bills, but telling her would only make him look even more ungrateful.

He opened his eyes, trying to feign an innocence he didn’t feel. “Where’d you get this?”

“I had a good night.” Punctuated by the
click-fizz
of her popping the tab on her beer.

Cody’s bile rose, and he forced himself to take slow, even breaths. He was torn—grateful for the money, but ashamed of it. Embarrassed for her, annoyed at himself, angry at his no-good father for forcing their hands.

“Mom . . .” He wanted to say,
I’m sorry.
He wanted to say,
You don’t have to do what I think you did.
But her back was rigid as she stared resolutely into the fridge, and Cody said the only thing he could. “Thank you.”

“Don’t blow it on records.”

Cody couldn’t remember the last time he’d bought music of any kind. That was a luxury he’d long ago learned to live without, Nate’s sudden infatuation with eight-tracks notwithstanding. “I won’t.”

He slid it into his back pocket, trying to let go of his misgivings. Maybe she’d been saving up for a while. Maybe there’d been a really big table, or one high-roller who liked the way his mom smiled.

Anything was possible.

Anything was better than the truth.

When Nate wandered into the field the next day, he found Cody sullen—even moodier than usual, and that was saying a lot. Nate didn’t tell him about the encounter with the Grove clique. He knew bringing it up would only drive Cody deeper into his anger. Cody expected him to fall into line with that group once school started, and although he couldn’t quite picture it, he kept hearing their voices in his head.

He’s a loser.

He’s worthless trailer trash.

Nate studied his class ring, remembering the second day he’d spent with Cody, and his assertion that there was no escaping Warren, Wyoming. What if he was right? What if this really was a black hole nobody managed to leave? Nate felt like he could barely breathe, just thinking about it. School was only four days away, and he was dreading it more than ever.

“There must be something around here we can do,” he said at last. “Besides shooting things, I mean.”

Cody shrugged as he ground his cigarette out against the side of the wagon. There was a pretty substantial black mark there from all the times he’d done it in the past. “I don’t know. There’s the places I told you—City Drug, and the bowling alley.” He looked down at the toes of his shoes. “I can take you to the bowling alley, but no way in hell I’m going where all the preps hang out.”

“Well, I have a car, you know. What about if we left town? What’s the closest place to go?”

Cody blinked at him in surprise. “Rock Springs.”

“Is there anything to do there?”

Cody’s eyes shifted to the side, and he bit nervously at his lip. He obviously had something in mind but didn’t seem to want to mention it.

“What is it?” Nate prodded.

“Well,” Cody glanced sideways at him, “there’s a store there.”

“What kind of store?”

A slow blush started to climb its way up Cody’s cheeks. “A clothes store.”

Nate wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but that sure as hell wasn’t it. “You want to go shopping? Are you serious?”

Cody blushed even more, and ducked his head. “Never mind,” he said, his voice quiet.

Nate was confused by Cody’s sudden embarrassment. He’d been teasing, but this was clearly something Cody couldn’t handle being hassled about.

“Cody?”

Cody looked cautiously toward him. His cheeks were still bright red.

“It’s cool, man. I’ll take you. Anything’s better than sitting here.”

A flash of hope lit Cody’s eyes, but he seemed to smash it down, grinding it out like he had his cigarette. “The thing is, it’s . . . Well, it’s a thrift shop, you know? Like, used clothes people donate.”

Used clothes?

Suddenly, the reason for Cody’s embarrassment was crystal clear, and Nate couldn’t even blame him for it. Secondhand stores were something he was vaguely aware of, but he’d never set foot inside of one. He’d always thought of them as places homeless people and bums went. Somehow, it hadn’t ever occurred to him that regular people shopped there. People his age.

People like Cody.

Cody was still looking at him, his cheeks red and a mute plea in his eyes—not asking if Nate would take him to Rock Springs, but asking Nate to please,
please
not laugh at him for this.

In some past life, he might have done just that. But not now.

“They have a McDonald’s there too, right?” Nate asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’d kill for a Big Mac right now.”

Cody gave him a big, broad smile that was cute as hell, and utterly contagious. “Two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese—”

“Pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun.”

“Let’s go,” Cody said.

But Nate was already on his feet and running for the car.