Free Way to Go by Tom Ryan

problems paled in comparison to this stuff. It was like something out of a movie. Central Park? Mental hospitals?
    She threw her arms out in front of her with mock enthusiasm. “So here I am! Stuck in the middle of nowhere! I’m sorry for unloading my shit on you. It’s just tough to talk to Cheryl about it. She’s been so awesome already, I don’t want her to feel that she has to be my shrink or something.”
    She jumped up, then reached down to grab my hands and pull me up.
    â€œThanks so much for listening to me, Danny. It means a lot.”
    She pulled me into a hug and held on for a long time, with her head on my shoulder. I turned and buried my face in her hair, and the world stopped moving for a few moments. Everything became quiet and still. The stars were thick in the sky, the air was warm and sweet, her hair smelled incredible. I knew that if I was going to kiss her, this was the perfect opportunity. I pulled my head back slowly to look at her, and she looked up at me, smiling.
    I thought about what Jay had said— just do it . But it was no use. Her voice was soft, her breath smelled like cherry lip gloss, and her breasts were pressed up against my chest. This wasn’t what I wanted.
    â€œDo you know what I like about you?” she asked, pulling away and looking at me with a crooked smile.
    â€œWhat?” I asked, my head spinning.
    â€œYou’re not always trying to get into my pants like every other pervert dude I’ve ever met.” She laughed. “ That is an excellent trait in a guy.”
    What would she think if I told her I was another kind of pervert altogether?
    She smiled brightly and reached up to mess with my bangs. “We should probably hit the road; it’s getting late,” she said. Then she turned and ran back down the hill in big flying leaps, laughing the whole way.
    I followed her at a distance, battling two emotions: relief that nothing had happened, and disgust with myself for feeling relieved.

ELEVEN
    I was a failure. A fraud. A homo. A queer. A fag. Gay.
    I knew that in other parts of the world, being gay wasn’t such a big deal. There were gay bars, gay businesses, even whole gay neighborhoods. There were gay doctors and gay lawyers and gay actors and gay musicians. In big cities like New York and Toronto and San Francisco, there were gay pride parades, full of gay people covered with gay glitter and gay feathers dancing to gay music. Those people looked happy, like they could afford to have fun and be themselves.
    But none of that mattered, because none of those people lived in Deep Cove.
    Was I supposed to throw myself a one-man pride parade? I pictured myself zooming down Main Street on a pink bicycle wearing a feather boa, dodging rotten tomatoes and the jeers of everyone I’d ever known. I imagined Kierce and Ferris and their hockey buddies beating the shit out of me. I saw Jay looking at me with disgust and never speaking to me again. I wondered how my family would react if they ever found out. Would my parents disown me? Would Alma be so embarrassed that she’d pretend she didn’t even have a brother?
    I was an island of gayness in an ocean of straightness.
    The way I saw it, I had two options. I could try to be somebody other than myself for the rest of my life, or I could pick up and move far away. It was obvious that Plan A had failed miserably. If Lisa couldn’t turn me on, there wasn’t a girl on earth who could change me. It wasn’t going to happen. Period. Full stop.
    That left me with Plan B. I had to get out of Deep Cove, move as far away as I could, because there was no way I could tell anyone here who I really was. To hell with figuring out a career plan for after high school. What I needed was an escape route.
    To make matters worse, things at the restaurant were getting shittier by the day. I couldn’t seem to get any faster at washing dishes. Every time I felt like I was getting