stuff with him."
"You mean like..." I wanted to say
sex,
but the story had me kind of rooted to the spot. I didn't have to say it.
"Like
yeah,
like
stuff.
" Lani took in the ceiling for a moment. "And he had all these words for it that I'd never heard of. I had never even heard of oral sex."
"So ... the same guy who called you a faggot in public came on to you in private?" I tried not to sound too interested, but this was far juicier than anything Macy had ever come up with.
Lani stood up, but I just froze in my seat, not wanting him to change the subject. He was filling in my junior high knowledge holes big-time.
He nodded. "And, one day, all of a sudden, I heard a voice behind me. I never even turned around. But I knew his voice. And right there in the library he gives me this, this endless blow-by-blow description ... Sorry about the pun."
I might have laughed, but this hypnotized me. "He
did
come on to you."
"For sure. I was so ready to puke." He crossed his arms, rubbing them.
"Did you say anything to him just now?"
"He got off the bus with some girl. Our eyes locked, and you could tell he remembered me and was, like, ready to die. He was all scared I would do something in front of this girl to let on about his dirty little secrets. I just looked away again. I mean, I could have winked or smiled or something just to be a jerk—but what's the point? People create their own little hells. They don't need my help."
He leaned back against the side of the bench, staring wide-eyed at the floor. "I walked out of the library, and two months later, I walked out of Shinoquin."
"Shinoquin?"
"The little town we were living in. Stuff like that happened all too often in Shinoquin. It's a lot like Hackett, only replace fishermen with coal miners. I'm really glad we're going to Philly today, Claire. I had forgotten how little towns can make me feel so ...
out there,
and freakish and lonely. I need a break already. we're killing two birds with one stone here. Funny how things can work out, you know?"
Lani started trudging toward the bus pulling in, without waiting for me to answer. I opened my mouth, but a muttered curse rolled out instead of an argument.
What kind of a bitch would I be to back out now?
He half turned to wait for me but looked lost in his own thought. "So, my looks make strange people feel like they want to proposition me. So what? If it gets on my nerves, too bad. I can always move on."
"Yeah, but what is up with people who proposition you one minute and gay bash on you the next? That's too weird."
"Yeah." He meandered slowly toward the bus and I fell in. He said, "But that's one thing I love about the cities. It's becoming almost taboo in the cities to gay bash. Because if some guy gay bashes, people there get suspicious that he is ... how can I say it ... a closet gay? Or ... a person who has those tendencies subconsciously? Something like that."
The whole scenario was pretty juicy. So juicy that I missed the fact that he'd just hinted he could run away again. It went right over my head. I asked, "You've been propositioned more than once?"
He snorted a laugh. "l forget how naive most people are. Stay that way, Claire. It's cool."
"No, it's not cool. It's getting old. My friends always laugh at me." I shook my head, embarrassed by my curiosity but more embarrassed by how none of this made sense to me. "We're talking about a guy with a girl, who propositioned
you
once, and then called you a faggot. What
is
a person like that?"
"Do you mean, is there a clinical name for someone like that?"
"Well ... yeah."
"Dunno. I think they call it 'hypocritical.'"
He got on the bus, leaving me at the foot of the steps, entranced ...
homophobic homo ... gay gay basher...
It didn't bother him there was nothing to call a person like that. Yet, the way he told it, this thing happened to him more than once. I thought maybe I could get wonderfully caught up on my education if I got on this bus.
Yet, I was still
"You mean like..." I wanted to say
sex,
but the story had me kind of rooted to the spot. I didn't have to say it.
"Like
yeah,
like
stuff.
" Lani took in the ceiling for a moment. "And he had all these words for it that I'd never heard of. I had never even heard of oral sex."
"So ... the same guy who called you a faggot in public came on to you in private?" I tried not to sound too interested, but this was far juicier than anything Macy had ever come up with.
Lani stood up, but I just froze in my seat, not wanting him to change the subject. He was filling in my junior high knowledge holes big-time.
He nodded. "And, one day, all of a sudden, I heard a voice behind me. I never even turned around. But I knew his voice. And right there in the library he gives me this, this endless blow-by-blow description ... Sorry about the pun."
I might have laughed, but this hypnotized me. "He
did
come on to you."
"For sure. I was so ready to puke." He crossed his arms, rubbing them.
"Did you say anything to him just now?"
"He got off the bus with some girl. Our eyes locked, and you could tell he remembered me and was, like, ready to die. He was all scared I would do something in front of this girl to let on about his dirty little secrets. I just looked away again. I mean, I could have winked or smiled or something just to be a jerk—but what's the point? People create their own little hells. They don't need my help."
He leaned back against the side of the bench, staring wide-eyed at the floor. "I walked out of the library, and two months later, I walked out of Shinoquin."
"Shinoquin?"
"The little town we were living in. Stuff like that happened all too often in Shinoquin. It's a lot like Hackett, only replace fishermen with coal miners. I'm really glad we're going to Philly today, Claire. I had forgotten how little towns can make me feel so ...
out there,
and freakish and lonely. I need a break already. we're killing two birds with one stone here. Funny how things can work out, you know?"
Lani started trudging toward the bus pulling in, without waiting for me to answer. I opened my mouth, but a muttered curse rolled out instead of an argument.
What kind of a bitch would I be to back out now?
He half turned to wait for me but looked lost in his own thought. "So, my looks make strange people feel like they want to proposition me. So what? If it gets on my nerves, too bad. I can always move on."
"Yeah, but what is up with people who proposition you one minute and gay bash on you the next? That's too weird."
"Yeah." He meandered slowly toward the bus and I fell in. He said, "But that's one thing I love about the cities. It's becoming almost taboo in the cities to gay bash. Because if some guy gay bashes, people there get suspicious that he is ... how can I say it ... a closet gay? Or ... a person who has those tendencies subconsciously? Something like that."
The whole scenario was pretty juicy. So juicy that I missed the fact that he'd just hinted he could run away again. It went right over my head. I asked, "You've been propositioned more than once?"
He snorted a laugh. "l forget how naive most people are. Stay that way, Claire. It's cool."
"No, it's not cool. It's getting old. My friends always laugh at me." I shook my head, embarrassed by my curiosity but more embarrassed by how none of this made sense to me. "We're talking about a guy with a girl, who propositioned
you
once, and then called you a faggot. What
is
a person like that?"
"Do you mean, is there a clinical name for someone like that?"
"Well ... yeah."
"Dunno. I think they call it 'hypocritical.'"
He got on the bus, leaving me at the foot of the steps, entranced ...
homophobic homo ... gay gay basher...
It didn't bother him there was nothing to call a person like that. Yet, the way he told it, this thing happened to him more than once. I thought maybe I could get wonderfully caught up on my education if I got on this bus.
Yet, I was still
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