Winger

I slipped my bare feet into my running shoes and walked past Joey. “I’m going to go get some hair gel from Kevin.”

And, as I left, I heard Chas saying, “I’m not putting that shit on,” and Casey complaining, “Is that all you fucking got me?”

So I guess they weren’t totally satisfied with their outfits.

But they put them on anyway. And I don’t know why Casey Palmer had to tag along with us, either. He could have gone out with Nick or any of the other assholes from O-Hall, but he was making it so obvious—to Joey and me, at least—that he had some kind of perverted interest in hanging around us.

Casey Palmer was after something.

What a fucking dolt.

Chas looked especially ridiculous.

We didn’t really think about it that night in Bannock, but not too many women come in size six foot four, so he had to cut the feet out of the pantyhose just to get the crotch past his knees.

Then he had his own pair of Pokemon briefs on top of the red nylons.

I said, “Oh! Twinsies!” And I lifted up my loincloth.

Chas flipped me off.

He wore our blue rugby socks to cover the holes at his feet, then a white T-shirt we had marked up with a big blue C, and, finally, the cape, which, since it was for a kid, went down to just the top of his ass.

Yeah, Joey confirmed what I sensed all along: You couldn’t get much gayer looking than that.

Kevin looked great. He was all in black, with that hook-hand sticking out from his sling. Of course, he had an eye patch, and he’d tied his hair down under a doo rag made from an old black T-shirt.

It was a big deal for Kevin to do that, because his perfect blond hair was always, well . . . perfect. Kevin Cantrell had magic hair. It never even got messed up playing rugby, and he hated wearing anything that would put one strand out of place. Then he had a three-pointed pirate hat on top of the doo rag, and he’d even taken a black Sharpie and drawn a moustache (that was about half as thick as Isabel’s) across his lip.

Kevin was a great sport. He would do anything, even if it meant permanent marker to the face.

He even offered to draw chest and leg hairs on the Wild Boy of Bainbridge Island, but the whole permanent- ink thing was a deal breaker as far as I was concerned.

Casey Palmer just moped along with us, stung and angry, wearing that cheesy elastic-band-highly- flammable-carcinogenic-plastic Wonder Woman mask and dangling about a yard-and-a-half-long cord of gold lame from his right hand.

And on that long walk across campus from O-Hall to the dance, I kept wondering the same few things over and over.

First, why the hell is Casey tagging along with us, and who is going to be the one to orchestrate the ditching of his ass? Second, it is really, really cold walking around practically naked. And, oh, by the way, third, it feels like my balls have turned into frozen raisins and the skin on my one exposed nipple has shriveled to the size of . . . uh . . . something . . . that’s really small and round. And hard.

Or something.

Brrrrrr.

And I didn’t even think, the whole way over there, that they weren’t going to let the O-Hall boys into the dance once we got there, but that’s exactly what was going to happen.

“Ryan Dean West? What are you doing out?”

The old pervert, Mr. Wellins, was working the door.

He added, “Fantastic costume, by the way.”

Yeah. Whatever. Stop staring at my shrunken nipple.

But I knew Mr. Wellins liked me. I could lay it on so thick when I wrote essays for him, and, of course, I had the highest grade in his Lit class. I knew exactly what he wanted to hear: duh, sex.

Why don’t other kids get that?

It’s never about what you think, it’s about what the professor wants you to think.

No-brainer.

“But you boys are going to get into trouble for being out of Opportunity Hall.”

I knew I had to work my magic.

Anyway, my eyes were watering already. I really did need to pee, even though I thought it would probably come out in sharp yellow ice cubes.

Ouch. Thinking about that made my eyes water even more.

“They gave us permission at O-Hall to come out tonight,” I said. “Because we’ve been very good, Mr. Wellins. You could call over and ask Mrs. Singer, and she’ll confirm it.”

Mr. Wellins looked like a judge weighing character-reference testimony.

I was shivering.

I said, “Oh. And I have my final essay for you on In Our Time.”

And I knew this was a kill shot: “I wrote it on the sexual tension between Nick and Bill in ‘The Three-Day Blow.’ ”

Yeah, I know. Too easy with a title like that, but I wasn’t going to go there.

I continued, “I mean, how they get drunk together, alone in the cabin, and Nick puts on a pair of Bill’s socks, and Bill tells Nick how he’s glad Nick didn’t get married. Very thick with the taboo of forbidden, unacted upon, and unrequited homosexual curiosity, I think.”

I swear to God, Mr. Wellins looked so emotionally moved, I thought he was going to start sobbing. “You are brilliant, Ryan Dean.”

I just made that shit up on the spot because of how much I had to pee, and how much I wanted in to the dance.

Ugh. Now I knew I’d have to go hammer out that crappy essay before Lit class.

Sorry, Hemingway, but this old guy murdered some of your best chops for a generation of students.

Mr. Wellins said, “Well, it does sound to me as though you boys have been applying yourselves. Have a good time at the dance, Ryan Dean, and I’ll look forward to seeing that essay tomorrow.”

Crap.

Forbidden and unacted upon.

Sometimes, I surprise myself by how much of an idiot I am.

Chapter Eighty-Seven

IN THE DOOR, HIGH FIVES from joey and Kevin for playing Mr. Wellins like one of those balsa-wood- paddle-and-a-red-bouncy-ball-attached-on-a-long-rubber-band-with-a-staple-in-it-that-I-don’t-know-what-the-hell- they’re-called-things, and . . .

First stop: urinals.

So, I’m standing there, thinking, Hey, wearing a miniskirt really does save a lot of time and trouble when a guy needs to pee. Convenient.

When I came out into the dance hall, I found Joey and Kevin, but Casey and Chas were gone, thankfully.

It was hard to recognize anyone else, because I didn’t know what kids were wearing what costumes, and the place was so dark and crowded. I decided I’d have to do my duty and fully check out every single girl there— and, potentially, every cross-dresser—until I found Annie.

I swung past Joey and Kevin and said, “I’m going to look for Annie. I’ll see you guys later. Whatever you do, try to ditch Palmer for good.”

Joey smiled and nodded.

Kevin leaned to my ear and said, “Oh, I don’t think Palmer’s going to be around us after what Joey just said