Chapter 2

Dinner that night was good—arroz con pollo, with enough chicken to fill three active teenagers plus a little left over for two adults. Dana liked her stepmother’s cooking. She didn’t always get along with Thea, but Dana readily admitted her food was always the dinner of champions. Plus the aroma of saffron was so, so good. In her first rush to fill up, she ignored her younger brother and sister as they each interrupted the other, trying to describe school first—in other words, the Brat Patrol being typically annoying. As she took her third helping, however, Thea cut across Brad’s chatter with a question.

“Is Friday a home or away game, dear?”

Dana had to think a moment. Before she could answer, Clara smugly said, “Home.”

Dana wrinkled her nose. What was with her treating everything as a competition? Their little brother, sure, but ever since Clara turned 15, she’d been a real pain. But it did remind her—a lot had changed with the move. For one thing, because games started and ended later here, Dana didn’t have to be home as early. Not that it made up for having to go into the closet, but it was something. Given her date with Nikki, it was time to find out what else had changed.

“Speaking of which,” Dana said, “what’s my curfew on weekends?”

Her father put his fork down. “Why?”

“I’ve got a date, Saturday night.”

“Wait, someone asked you out?” Clara asked.

“Wait,” Brad said, “a boy asked you out?”

Dana ignored them, watching instead the look Dad and Thea gave each other.

“With a boy?” her father asked. Dana couldn’t tell whether he was worried or hopeful.

She hesitated. When Dad accepted this job, he’d warned her about being out in a small town, beyond trusted friends. Asking Nikki out was throwing his advice in his face—like fouling in front of the referee. If she told him about it. But there was no way she could hide who she saw from her family—that’d be like staying in the closet to them and coming out to everyone else. And not seeing girls was so not working.

“Actually,” Dana said, “I asked out a cheerleader.” She looked at her father, who gazed steadily back.

“Oh,” Clara said, “one of the Bi-State All-Stars.” To Thea’s curious noise, she explained, “Kids call the cheer squad the Bi-States because they’re all bisexual.”

Dad glanced at Thea, then looked at Dana again. She refused to squirm. It was hard not to.

“What, all of them?” Brad asked. “That’s just weird.”

“That’s not the half of it,” Clara informed their younger brother.

Dad slowly nodded to Dana, in acknowledgment of something she couldn’t describe. “Eleven o’clock,” he said shortly.

Same as for game nights. Dana nodded back, satisfied.

“What about for me?” Clara said, only to be interrupted by Brad’s shout, “Ha! Got it!” and picked up something from his plate. The bayleaf—good in the Partlow family for an extra serving of desert.

“Excuse me!” Clara complained.

Dana bent over her dinner, letting their parents sort out the quarrelcats. She had enough problems of her own.

The next day, Dana got up early for her usual morning run. It had taken a couple weeks to work out her regular route: through the Victorian old town and down the river drive beneath cottonwood trees in fresh-leaf green, then across the tracks into the newer ranch houses in juniper-piñon grassland. Between forested mountains rising to the east and juniper mesas in the west, in the purple light of dawn, the view was spectacular.

She had to admit, Riverton did have scenery to burn.

As she ran up and over the ridge of tourist cabins, she thought about Nikki. In the clear air of morning, she was pleased with what she’d done. Back in Oregon, Dana had mostly gone out with other jocks—only the one cheerleader, a couple times. Still, cheerleaders were a kind of athlete; certainly, they worked out enough. She reached the misty reservoir, she turned back towards town. And acrobats as well—which ought to be good for something. Especially little Nikki, a tumbler who always seemed to get tossed flying through the air.

Not to mention, she realized as turned off the highway for home, she’d made her father unbend a little. That alone made her feel a little less stifled from moving here. Just because Uncle Rick had had problems in a small town didn’t mean she’d have them. Besides, that’d been then. This was the twenty-first century, for heaven’s sake. Girls went out with girls all the time.

All in all, Dana thought as she stretched in the front yard, catching her breath, it was good. Yes. She bounded up the porch and went in to shower.

Nikki met Dana in the hallway just before lunch. At the serious look on her face, Dana swerved from the cafeteria. They went outside, to a corner of the schoolyard shielded from the wind’s bluster by the brick building—where no one could overhear. Nikki’s eyes were steel-gray. Dana hadn’t realized how beautiful that could be. Somewhere just behind her, a lustbunny thumped its hind foot on the ground in time with Dana’s pulse.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Nikki asked. “Go out.”

Dana nodded. “If you still want to.”

“I mean, of the closet.”

“You’re out, just by being a cheerleader.” Wasn’t she? Worry prickled her neck—had she misread how things worked here?

“That’s ... different.”

“Exactly,” Dana said with renewed confidence. “You’re out. I’ll just be on a date with a cheerleader. Because, after all, cheerleaders date girls and boys.” Which was Tina and Josh’s logic, not hers, but it seemed worth trying. Dana shoved her hands in her pockets, holding her arms stiffly against her body against the cold.

Nikki grunted, then glanced away for a moment. “But what are we going to do on this date?”

Ah—that, Dana realized, was probably the real hesitation. “Whatever you want to do,” Dana said, “from not even holding hands to going all the way. I’ll do it, no questions asked or stories told. My word on it.”

“You’d go slow, if I had—? I mean, I’ve never—with a girl—”

She hadn’t? But then, supposedly Nikki didn’t date. “I can go slow. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” Dana had learned, the hard way, not to push. McKenzie had never forgiven Dana for seducing her—though Dana had thought she wanted it. Dana mentally kicked that guiltmonkey away—she and it were old friends by now.

A gust of wind caught Dana, shivering her with the dusky scent of sagebrush.

Nikki nodded slowly. “Your word on it?”

“My word on it.”

Nikki smiled slightly, then suddenly frowned. “But aside from all that, this isn’t some liberal city like San Francisco or Denver—Riverton is Ranchville, USA. No one’s openly gay here.”

Unless you were a protected species of cheerleader, apparently. “I’m a big girl,” Dana said blandly.

“But you—”

Dana motioned for a time-out. “Whoa. One question. Ignoring everything else—just you and me. Do you want to go see a movie with me?”

“Just between us, yes—”

“Nothing else matters,” Dana said firmly.

“Watch out!”

In the corner of her eye, Dana saw a soccer ball flying towards them. She reflexively stepped in front of Nikki and trapped it against her chest, juggled it twice with her knees, and then headed it to a Hispanic boy trotting over to retrieve it.

“Gracias,” he said as he trapped it against the ground.

“De nada,” Dana told him.

She watched him dribble it back to the field.

“You’re good,” Nikki said.

“Eh?” Dana said, looking back at her. “Oh, no. Not good enough, anyway.”

“Good enough for what?”

“To play as a starter.” Which still disappointed her, even after a couple years. Soccer had been her first love, sportswise—but she couldn’t stand doing something she wasn’t good at. Such as hiding in the closet. She shoved her hands back in her pockets. “I’m better at basketball, anyway.”

Nikki studied Dana for a moment. “You’re different from most kids here, you know that?”

Dana wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Does that mean we’re not still on?”

“I like different.”

“Good. No second thoughts.”

Nikki smiled. “No second thoughts.”

Pause. “Then I’ll, ah, see you around—and Saturday.”

“Right.”

Dana went into the cafeteria, warm with student bodies and mystery meat. She glanced at the fashionable end, under the windows, where Nikki went. Cheerleaders and football players sat in a couple large groups, with basketball players scattered around in twos and threes. She waved to Sue-Ellen and Tawnia, the captain, but didn’t join them. School superstition said it was bad luck for members of any sports team to sit together during the season—more so on game days, when they wouldn’t even sit at the same table.

And Tina claimed Riverton was normal. Dana missed the companionship of teammates. But this made it easier to sit with her new friends.

Her friends had, as usual, snagged a table near the center—as if to emphasize their diversity with the mid-cafeteria mix. Or maybe hide in it. Tina was in band, Josh an honors student, Lillian drew and painted, Sandy did drama, and Mike—well, Dana wasn’t sure what he did. Video games, maybe. And now they had their jock. The only thing missing was a goth, and gothkin only hung out with each other, even in class.

When Dana sat down, they were already in a five-way debate over what, exactly, it meant to be living with someone you weren’t married to—with Tina taking two sides, as far as Dana could tell. Dana considered her own experience—Dad and Thea had lived together for three years before finally getting married, and she still wasn’t sure what she thought of that. And then there was her uncle and his partner, finally married after twenty years together, but she wasn’t sure how safe it was to mention that. Then she noticed something.

“Wait,” she said. “Everyone here has relatives who’ve cohabited, right?”

A chorus of nods. “I guess,” Mike said.

“Your point?” Sandy asked. Her glasses flashed with reflected light.

“Well, then, we all know what it means,” Dana said. Not that she did.

“No,” Josh said, “it’s different for everyone.”

“It’s like dating,” Tina said. “There’s occasionally going out, and there’s practically engaged.” Like they were ones to talk.

Before Dana could reply, all talk was interrupted by the booming clatter of falling pots from the kitchen—complete with the classic rolling lid at the end. There was a moment of complete, startling silence. Then two boys stood and began slowly clapping, and soon most of the cafeteria was applauding the kitchen staff.

“That was their best crash this year,” Mike said when conversation resumed.

“What about the one before President’s Day?” Lillian asked.

“What I want to know,” Dana said, “is why they have so many pans if no one eats the cafeteria food?”

“Gnah!” Josh shuddered.

Dana grinned. She held up her homemade sandwich in agreement.

“Heck,” Mike said, “the Deli has better food.” Coach’s Deli was a hangout just off campus—better known as a refuge than eatery, unless you were desperate.

Dana remembered her date with Nikki. “So where do you go for good food?” Which got her a suspicious look from Tina.

“Bob’s Burger Barn,” Josh said promptly.

Dana nodded—she’d hung with teammates at the drive-in after games. “Love the fries. Where else?”

“Avoid the Route 77 Diner,” Tina said, “unless you’re only interested in being popular.”

“I like Taco Loco,” Sandy said. When the two Latina girls looked at her, half surprised and indignant, she added, “Just because I look white-bread doesn’t mean I don’t like a good enchilada.” Her hair was fairer than Dana’s, fine and straight, and her skin as creamy as a skin cream ad.

Tina shook her finger. “You want good Mexican—Juanita’s Cantina.” Lillian nodded.

When the bell rang, Dana had a half-dozen good places to try. On their way to their lockers, Tina asked, “What was that about?”

Dana must not have been as subtle as she thought. “Date planning,” she said with a straight face.

“Real date?”

Dana nodded. “Nikki, Saturday.” It was hard not to sound smug as she said it. She had a date! With a girl!

Tina stopped still. “But—!” She glanced around and started walking again—before she attracted attention, Dana realized.

“But?”

“She’s so short.”

That couldn’t have been her first response. Dana twiddled her fingers at Tina. “Hello, tall here! Even Josh is shorter than me.”

“Yes, but how about someone who doesn’t fit under your chin?”

“No offense, but it’s not like I have a large field of play.”

“Still,” Tina looked up at her somberly, “you be careful, girl.”

Not another a lecture about coming out in a small town. “I—” Dana began, but Tina went on, “She’s a cheerleader. You cross one, that means trouble.”