Chapter 12

The moment she pulled up, Nikki came down to the car before Dana could get out. Again, no introductions to parents. Dana took the hint again and opened the passenger door from inside, though it made her feel like she was seeing someone who wasn’t out.

“Hey, girl.”

“Hey.”

Dana put the car in gear and drove off.

“Let me guess—more yardwork.” Nikki was looking at Dana’s cheek.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“It looks good.” Dana hoped she didn’t mean the scratches. “So how’d it go last night?” As if she really wanted to know.

Dana gripped the wheel. “Not well. Sam got smashed.”

Nikki nodded. “Yeah, on a Saturday night.” As if that happened a lot.

“At the Rustler.”

“Oops.”

“Yeah.” Dana risked a glance at Nikki—her face had a sympathetic wince. “Then two men hit on her, and I had to get her out. And drive her home.” And Dana had no idea how Sam was doing, either. Not to mention whether Sam got her good time. But she wasn’t about to call her.

“How’d you get back?”

“Zoe and Patrick. I owe them.” Which reminded her of the time in the back seat. She pulled her mind firmly back to the present.

Nikki nodded. “Will you ask Zoe out next, then?”

“Um.” Dana watched the three oncoming cars, waiting to turn left into the mini-golf lot. “I hadn’t actually thought about it.” Come to think of it, except for Nikki, she’d been asked out. Was that how it’d work out with the rest of the squad?

“Do.”

Dana pulled in and straight into a parking slot. “I will.” Though not right now. She looked at Nikki. She wore everyday clothes, perfectly fitted as usual, and minimal make-up—Dana felt gaudy and overdressed, as well as awkwardly large. But even dressed casual, Nikki was still nice to look at. Nikki smiled. Very nice. Dana smiled back.

After a moment had stretched into two, they got out.

It was an okay afternoon for mini-golf. The sky had cleared, except for white fluff wreathing the mountain peaks, but it was still chilly. There were several families playing. Following Nikki’s lead, Dana played things relatively innocent, at least on the surface—the habits of how to go out with girls in the closet came back easily. It was a game that could be as much fun as frustrating—though why they were playing it, Dana didn’t know.

It was easier, once they got into their game. When Dana made the first hole in one after Nikki took three putts, Dana realized that she couldn’t make herself not play at her best. Trying to was as uncomfortable as doing something she wasn’t good at. It would be too dishonest to herself. But trouncing Nikki was the last way to make a good impression. So Dana decided to ham it up.

At every hole, she went for the trick shot—the exact combination of banks and tunnels and jumps that would, if she nailed it, give her a hole in one, but completely blow it if she missed. She played it up for all she could, letting Nikki know what she was doing. When that got a smile, she started an over-the-top play-by-play commentary on herself. Which cracked Nikki up, whether Dana nailed it or blew it.

As they played, they talked about themselves. Nikki’s father was a doctor, which was how they’d afforded to send her to a gymnastics boarding school for five years. Her mother worked for the school board.

“So she knows exactly what’s on your record?”

“Yeah.” Nikki didn’t sound pleased.

“So you have to be careful what goes on it.” Dana nodded sympathetically. “Do teachers come down harder or easier on you, because of her?”

Nikki had to consider that. “You know, I never thought about it. I always think of it as a pain, because the principal always notices me. But I don’t know what it means to the teachers.”

“Or even if they all know about your mother.”

“In this town?”

“Six thousand isn’t all that small. Not everyone knows everyone.”

“8500 for the district,” Nikki said absently as she lined up a long putt. It went in, her best shot yet.

“Yes!” Nikki did a cartwheel in celebration, followed by a backflip. Dana grinned—she was still back in the first half of the hole, trying to get through the crocodile’s mouth.

She made that shot—out the tail and into the cup—and Nikki did a brief high-kicking cheerleading routine.

“And the fans go wild,” Dana said in her commentator voice.

Nikki laughed. “So what do your parents do?”

“My father’s an accountant. He just took a job with the county.” In the budget office—a promotion too good to pass up despite the mid-season move.

“Here in Riverton?”

“Yup.” She switched voices. “Now this is Partlow’s toughest shot yet. Instead of going through the mushroom house, she’s trying to chip it over the roof and bank it off the plywood flower. It’s going to be tough to get it on the green, let alone into the cup in one. Let’s see how she does. She winds up—she swings—and ... off the flower, yes, but she overshot the cup by a couple feet. Her fans are going to be a little disappointed with this one.”

“Are you kidding? You got it onto the green! Your fans go wild.”

“Haven’t you ever noticed that sports commentators are idiots?”

Nikki shook her head as she teed up her ball. “What about your stepmother?”

“She’s an office manager. She’s only found a part-time job here, but she says she likes not working full-time.”

Nikki looked up shrewdly. “So she’s a bit bossy, huh?”

“Sometimes.” Especially this afternoon.

Nikki putted—into the mushroom house and down the tunnel that didn’t come out near the cup.

“Actually,” Dana admitted, “Thea isn’t bad. Mostly. We fight, but she’s always been supportive of—of who I am.”

Nikki looked at Dana. “That must be nice.”

They were standing near each other. “I’m very lucky, and I know it. Not having to hide.”

“How long?” Meaning, how long had Dana known she was gay.

“Since forever, I think.” She switched voices. “And Partlow lines up for the putt. It looks simple, but looks can be deceiving. And for Partlow, there’s always the question: can she resist a flashy shot for its own sake?”

Nikki giggled.

“The umpires are asking the crowd for silence. She winds up—she swings—and it’s in the hole!”

Dana’s fan went wild. “Yea!!! Woo hoo!”

Dana laughed.

As they checked out the next hole, Nikki said, “So looks can be deceiving?”

Dana looked at her. “Sometimes. A lot can happen underneath the surface.”

“Yes, it can,” Nikki agreed solemnly.

“If,” Dana added in a moment of honesty, “you know where to look.”

Nikki putted first. She made it inside the pyramid, but ended up in a hollow above the cup.

“Sometimes,” Nikki said, “I wonder whether everyone has a secret life.”

“Probably,” Dana said without thinking about it. “This looks like a pretty straightforward shot for Partlow. Hard, but straightforward—over the bumps and into the hole. Looks like it’ll bank to the left after the first hump. Let’s see how she does. She winds up—she swings—and ... it leaps the hole, to the back, and around the side ... still rolling ... and out—and out the opening she hadn’t even seen. She is totally out of it for this one. That’s gotta hurt.”

“Oh my God,” Nikki said. It was going to take Dana at least two more shots—one just to get back in sight of the hole. Unless...

As Nikki set up for her second shot, Dana said, “From what I know about ... certain people—” she didn’t say “in the closet” with a family on the next hole, able to hear, “—quite a few people have a secret life, known only to a few. For all I know it could be everyone.”

Nikki’s putt made it over the lip and into the cup. Perfect shot. “Even the average kids?”

Dana shrugged as she checked out the angle of a wall. “Most average kids think jocks and cheerleaders are all surface.”

“True.”

“This is interesting, folks—Partlow’s got a cunning look in her eye. It looks like she’s going to try and bank the ball off the hump, bounce off the back wall, that bit she can just see, and into the hole. Certainly, she thinks she’d got the angles. We’ll find out. She winds up—she swings—and ... it’s off the hump, off the wall, it’s heading for the hole, but—oh dear, she didn’t give it enough juice. Though if she’d given it any more, she wouldn’t have banked it right. Tough hole for Partlow.”