“Well, I do propose that!”
“I’ll be downstairs,” he replies, smiling and heading out of the door.
I’m boiling over with so much fury and indignation I honestly don’t know what to do with myself, so I kick my wastepaper basket across my room.
“Nate!” Mum’s voice calls up from downstairs. “What are you doing up there?”
I want to scream.
I do scream.
“NATE!” Mum again. “Don’t make me come upstairs!”
I silently jump about on the spot, arms flailing, while I mouth, “Fuuuuuuuuuck oooooooffffff!” I make a huge, exaggerated wanking gesture at the door. Then Mum walks in. I freeze. She just looks at me, slowly blinks, and says, “Whatever you’re doing, stop it and come downstairs.”
She turns, leaves, and I bow my head and follow her out.
My dad and Jack (legs crossed, all serene), are in the lounge, waiting. “Sit down,” Mum says.
I plonk myself on the end of the sofa. Jack’s at the opposite end examining his fingernails. I flick my eyes to Dad.
“So!” Dad begins. “An idea for you! You’re not keen on this road trip id—”
“Road trip with structure,” Mum interrupts.
“Road trip with structure idea of ours, so we have a thought for you.”
Finally. Hopefully they’re about to suggest I can stay here and do my own thing for the summer.
“After all, you’re sixteen, and of course you don’t want to spend all your time with your loving family,” Dad continues.
“Dad, it’s not that—”
“You want to spend time with people your own age,” Dad says.
I release a breath. Thank god, they’re just going to leave me alone. “OK. Thank you,” I say.
“That’s fine, you’re welcome,” Dad replies. “So, that’s why we’ve asked Jack if he wants to come along on the trip too.”
My eyes widen as the blood drains from my face.
“It’ll be nice for you to have a boy your own age around!” Mum chirps.
I open my mouth, trying to form words.
No.
God, NO! I don’t want this trip at all! What’s wrong with just being sad and on your own? And even if I did want to go, being on the trip with Jack? I could go on tour with a circus clown belting show tunes through a PA system and it would be less embarrassing and more chilled than spending weeks in close proximity to Jack. Oh god! Everything is wrong. Everything.
I start shaking my head. “I, no, I don’t want a boy my own age, I’ve just been left heartbroken by a boy my own age, I hate boys my own age, they’re the absolute worst.”
“It’ll be nice for you to have a friend, Nate!” Mum says, smiling like there’s no problem here. “Someone to talk to, someone who knows exactly what you’ve been through—”
“Oh, please, god, no,” I mutter.
“Jack could be a bit like a therapist!” Mum declares.
I look at her in disbelief. “He’s not a therapist! He’s a … mental … ist!”
“Harsh and hurtful,” Jack says.
“Apologize,” Mum tells me.
“No.”
“Say you’re sorry. That was mean,” Mum insists.
I clamp my mouth shut.
Dad grins. “Well, you know who loves boys who are rude?”
I inhale sharply. “Dad, no.” I turn quickly to Jack. “Sorry, Jack.”
“Do we know who loves boys who are rude?”
Jack is all ears. “Who? Who loves them?”
“Nate?” Dad grins, flexing his fingers.
“OK! I’m being nice! I’ve apologized to Jack! I’m … please, can you just—” I indicate Jack. “No.”
“Tickle Monster!” Dad declares, launching himself at me, waggling his fingers.
I scream and try to dart out of his grasp, but he’s too quick, he’s got me, and my humiliation is utterly complete as he starts to actually tickle me like a small kid. Worse, I am super ticklish, so it looks like I’m probably enjoying this.
When he’s done, I’m gasping on the floor, exhausted and spent.
“Have a chat with Jack – offer’s there,” Dad says.
He and Mum leave.
Jack runs his tongue over his lips. “So, that was tremendous.”
I scramble back up to the sofa.
“If you don’t want me to come, I won’t,” he says.
“How did this even come up?”
“I don’t know, your parents suggested it.”
“And you agreed! Why would you do that? Why would you want to come on their stupid trip anyway?”
He shrugs. “I know it would have been a pretty crappy summer, it’s just it would have been a little less crappy than staying in town, constantly bumping into Dylan and Tariq being love’s young dream. But it’s fine, forget it, I won’t come.”
“Good.”
“Sure. You, your folks and your little sister in a camper van. It’ll be just like Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, minus the drag queens and all the fun.”
I close my eyes because, as god is my witness, I am not spending the summer in a camper van with my family. And why Jack even considered it might be a good idea is beyond me. We’ve barely spoken for three years. We’ve only been brought back together by some treachery of the highest order – that’s not a basis for restarting a friendship, especially when we blatantly do nothing except irritate the hell out of each other.
“Jack, I’m not going anywhere in a camper van with anyone. Not gonna happen. You know, and maybe this thing with Tariq and Dylan will blow over and he’ll … well, whatever.”
Jack squints at me. “I’m sorry, what? You’re expecting Tariq to come back to you?”
I shrug. I don’t really know if I think that or not. Maybe, with me coming out at prom, Tariq can see I’m changing. Maybe he’ll start to see we could be “out there” and “living life” after all. But, whatever, I have no intention of discussing any of this with Jack, of all people.
“Oh, OK. You’re serious. Amazing.”
“Whatever. I’m just going to have a quiet summer here, doing my thing.”
“Oh, please! Doing what?” Jack laughs. “You’ll just spend your entire summer masturbating, it’s horribly inevitable.”
I close my eyes and take a breath. “That’s simply not true.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JACK
So I walk out of Nate’s house,
