Fancy White Trash (13 page)

“Perv!” she accuses.

“I'm not the one with a naked boss in my bed. Besides, it was Shelby.”

“Huh?” Gustavo mumbles, and I see that even nude, his hair is still in that ponytail holder. Either wear it down or cut it off, bud.

I don't usually drink coffee in the morning, but I can tell that today I'm going to need all the help I can get.

After breakfast, Hannah and I are playing her favorite game— take all the pots out of the bottom cupboard and bang them together—when there is a knock on the door. Since I'm the reluctant babysitter and there are at least three other people in the house, I let someone else get it.

I am not expecting it to be Cody, but he squats down next to Hannah and says, “Hey.”

“Thas my bang bang!” Hannah points at our spaghetti pot and laughs maniacally.

Cody grins at her. “I see. What about that one?” He points to a strainer.

“Mine!” she announces, picking up a wooden spoon and whacking it on a frying pan.

“How are you?” I ask Cody at the same time he says, “Can we talk for a minute?”

“It's probably quieter in the living room.” Hannah howls when I get up, so I take down the most forbidden—and therefore most fun—of all the non-lethal kitchen accessories. The whisk. Hannah squeals with delight, grabs it from me, and promptly gets her chubby fingers stuck in the wires.

“That'll keep her busy for a while,” I say, and go with Cody into the next room. There are still pillows on the floor from last night and a few tumblers and a popcorn bowl on the glass coffee table that no one bothered to take to the kitchen. I sit on one of the floor pillows and angle it so I can see through the archway and into the kitchen. Hannah is gnawing on the whisk like a dog with a fresh T-bone. “What's up?”

Cody sits across from me, absently picking tiny bits of popcorn from between the wooden planks of the floor. “We've never had a fight before,” he says.

“What about the Great Halloween Fight of Fifth Grade?” I remind him. I wanted to be a princess. He wanted us to dress up like superheroes. We didn't speak for almost ten minutes. That argument was solved when Mom informed me I'd be the same thing I was every year—something you can make out of a sheet. So, Cody went as Spider-Man and I was Static Cling. Picture a pink-flowered sheet with socks safety-pinned all over.

“I liked your costume,” Cody says now, obviously not the one who had to explain his costume over and over again. “You got lots of candy.”

“Yeah, pity candy. Poor little girl wearing her family's laundry around the neighborhood.”

Cody laughs and I start to get the feeling that he's forgiven me. He must see the question in my eyes, because he says, “Abby, I'm sorry I was a jerk yesterday.”

I thought about this a lot last night, staring at the pale moon of Gustavo's butt. “No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did. I was way off base.”

“Not totally.” He looks at me with his hazel Cody eyes, and I see the guy next door but also something else. Something older and sadder.

“What is it, Cody?” I can't stand that I made him sad, can't stand that things aren't how they've always been between us. I feel like I'm going to cry.

He picks at the floor some more, then slowly raises his gaze to mine. “What you said yesterday, what you think about me, it's true.”

I'm stunned. I mean, I
knew
, but I didn't
know.
I guess I'm silent too long, because Cody stops waiting.

“Jackson talked to me last night. About you and, well . . . everything. I told him. And once I told him, and it felt so good to finally say it, I knew I had to apologize to you. Jackson said it's proof of how close we are that you knew without me telling. He's right. Abby, you're my best friend. Please don't be mad at me.”

Now I really am crying, tears leaking like the faucet in the bathroom that the Guitar Player promised to fix and hasn't. I lean forward and wrap Cody in a tight hug. “I'm sorry, Cody. I should've let you do it in your own time.”

“My own time would be, um, never. But please don't tell anyone else. This is between you and me, Abs. And Jackson.” He pauses, rubbing my back with one hand. “I still can't quite get over that you told Jackson.
Jackson
, of all people. You think I can trust him?”

Trust Jack-Off? No. But Jackson, I'm gonna save the poor children of the world? I nod into Cody's neck.

A loud screech, the kind Hannah lets out when she is hurt, pierces the air. I scramble to my feet and run to the kitchen.

“Hannah! What have you done?”

She somehow managed to climb up the cupboard door and over into the sink. Her hand is caught in the drain. Thank God the compactor switch is far out of her reach. “Hang on, baby,” I say, gently extracting her arm from danger. She calms down to a whimper and inspects her hand carefully once it's free.

I scoop her up and deposit her back on the floor. “Crisis three hundred avoided for the day.”

Cody wipes his own wet eyes with the back of one hand. “You'll come to dinner tonight, won't you? Now that Jackson's back, Mom's starting up the Saturday-night tradition again. She's making your favorite.”

Since my favorite is anything that wasn't frozen first, he's not exactly narrowing down the menu. I agree anyway, because Saturday-night dinners at Cody's house are like a peek into another world. A normal world.

“It's okay if I bring the baby?”

Cody nods. “You mean Hannah? Because technically she's not the baby anymore.”

Hannah looks up from her important work of unscrewing the handle off the soup pot. “I the baby!”

Cody crouches down in front of her. “You're Hannah the big girl now. Stephanie's the baby.”

“I the baby!” She makes her point by slamming the pot on his foot. “I the baby!”

Cody backs up, out of pot range, and rubs his toes. “Point taken, Hannah.”

I laugh and walk Cody to the door. “I'll try to wear her out today. Maybe she'll sleep through dinner.”

Cody is halfway out the door when he stops and turns. “I really did think Brian was perfect for you.”

“Except for the whole gay thing, he was. You could call him up. See if he still wants help with his closet.”

“That ship's already sailed.” The door swings shut behind him.

I'm not so sure he's right. I decide to ask Jackson his opinion on the situation later today. Then I get mad. Since when is Jackson my go-to guy? Ridiculous. I'll call Brian myself and get it straight, so to speak, from the horse's mouth.

Chapter
12

“Get over here now!” Even though it's only been about three hours since we saw each other, Cody's voice on the phone is urgent. It's unusual for him to be the one with the emergency, so I scoop up Hannah and race next door.

Cody and his parents are standing outside. Walt's dressed like it's not ninety degrees outside, in jeans and a long-sleeved button-down. Sweat plasters the shirt to his back. Barbara's dressed for her daily three-mile walk in comfortable sneakers, running shorts, and a baggy T-shirt.

“Look!” Cody commands. His sandaled feet bounce on the concrete of their front walkway. “Can you believe it?”

There are three cars in the driveway. The LeSabre, the Camry, and a new Accord. Jackson's Corolla is nowhere in sight. He must be out doing whatever it is not-going-to-college guys do on the weekend.

“Hannah, look!” I say after adding up the new Accord and the pure joy on Cody's face. “It's Cody's new car!” I jostle her on my hip in a mini happy dance. She giggles and tangles her fingers in my hair.

“Isn't it great?” Cody hugs his mom first, then his dad. “You two are the best.”

Barbara and Walt beam at Cody. “We're so proud of you, son. We know you'll take good care of her,” says Walt. He dangles the keys in front of Cody. “Want to take her for a spin?”

“Yes!” I squeal, before realizing Cody probably doesn't have a car seat for Hannah. Shelby doesn't care if Hannah rides along on someone's lap, but there's no way Barbara will let us get away with it. Bummer. I deposit my niece on the ground and frown.

“Without my license? I can't take the test until my birthday next Thursday.” Cody clearly wants to snatch those keys out of Walt's hand, but he manages to hold himself back.

Walt winks at him. “What the Motor Vehicle Division doesn't know won't hurt 'em.”

This is a humongous thing. Cody's parents are usually sticklers for stuff like rules and laws. I watch Walt and Barbara carefully for any signs that they've had personality transplants. It's rare even on soaps, but it does happen.

Cody's so fast, the movement is like a blur. He holds the keys in front of my nose and swings them back and forth. “Wanna come along?”

“Sorry.” I pat Hannah's head. “Babysitting duty.”

Barbara holds out her arms. “I've got her, Abby. You two take a quick drive around the block.”

She tickles Hannah, and Walt gives a few last-minute directions about using the sideview mirrors. I run to the passenger side of the Accord. Cody opens the Camry door.

“What?” The Camry is Barbara's car.

Cody laughs. “You think they gave
me
the new car? That's Mom's. They went to the dealership this morning to pick it out. I get her old one.”

I am a little disappointed on Cody's behalf—what with double whammy of a used car that is not a convertible—but he's so happy, sliding into the driver's seat, that I let it go. At least he has a car. No more awkward drives to and from school with Jackson as our chauffeur.

Climbing in the passenger's side, I inhale that old-car smell covered up by the strong scent of citrus. Maybe it's lemon or lime. It's hard to tell by the shape of the air freshener exactly what it's supposed to be. Cody backs up and smoothly pulls us onto the street.

“This is so cool!” He puts the car in drive and slowly accelerates. Very slowly.

“Speed limit's twenty-five,” I say helpfully. “You can probably go thirty with no problem.”

“I'm not taking any chances.” He keeps the car at fifteen miles per hour. Little girls zoom past us on their bikes. I'm not kidding.

“If you're going to drive like this every day, we're going to have to leave an hour earlier for school. Maybe more.”

“Why don't we take your car instead?” His eyes never leave the road.

Ouch. “You're a great driver,” I say, patting his leg. “The best. My fave.”

Stopped at the last intersection before we turn back onto our own street, Cody yields the right of way to an SUV. He turns his head to check his blind spot. His collar slips down, and I see the faintest outline where his hickey used to be.

“When are you going to tell me who gave you that thing?” Since no new ones have appeared on his body, at least not where I can see them, I assume that whatever happened is over. But I still want to know.

He uses his palm to cover his neck. “I told you, no one.”

“It's pretty hard to give yourself one, at least in that location.”

He doesn't answer for a long moment. His jaw flexes like he's about to speak, then he shakes his head. “I don't want to tell you.”

My throat feels as dry as if I'd scooped up a handful of desert sand and choked it down. “Cody? It can't be that bad.”

“I don't want you to hate me. I know you think I'm . . . you know.”

Didn't he just come out to me this morning? Was it a dream? Because he's acting like we never talked.

“Be straight with me,” I say, and immediately regret my word choice. “What you told me earlier is between you and me. Just like the big secret of where the hickey came from will be. You know you want to tell me. Come on.”

Cody tugs on his ear and grinds his teeth. When he turns my way, his eyes are filled with tears. “What's wrong with me, Abby? Why can't I be in love with you? Then everything would be so easy.” A single tear escapes, sliding down his nose and into the corner of his mouth.

Being strapped into the bucket seats makes it impossible to get closer. I reach out my hand and lay it on his back. “Cody, you are who you are. I love you no matter what. You know that, right? There's nothing you could say that would make me hate you.”

He takes a deep breath. My hand is trapped between his body and the seat, but I don't move it.

“Abby?” He touches the hickey. “After I found that dildo, I panicked. I can't go through the same thing again this year. So, there's this freshman in my art class. Really cute. I thought, maybe I don't know for sure. Maybe it's all in my head. She'd been flirting with me, so I convinced her to meet me out by the freshman lockers. You know the place?”

“Yeah.” There's an alcove between the language-arts building and the lockers that's well known as a hookup place. Last year's senior class wanted to install a condom machine in the alcove as the class gift. Obviously, the principal vetoed that idea and they donated some new software to the computer lab instead.

Cody takes another breath and continues. “We made out. It was stupid—I should never have been there.”

“Was it horrible?” I don't know what it's like to be gay, but I was forced to kiss a guy I didn't like at a party last year, thanks to a stupid drinking game, and I can still remember how wrong it felt.

“She's nice. It wasn't her fault.” Which is just like Cody, to take all the blame himself. “It's me.”

A car stuck behind us honks.