Free End of the Innocence by John Goode Page A

that?” I nodded, and he sighed. “Well let’s count down the reasons, shall we? One, because the world does not start and end in Foster High. There is a lot going on in this town that doesn’t get mentioned during study hall. Two, it isn’t exactly like you have your finger on the gay pulse of North Texas, so the fact you have never heard of me before isn’t as shocking as you make it sound. And three, I keep mainly to myself when I’m in town. Hanging out on Second Street getting wasted at the Rodeo Club is not my idea of a good time.” He looked over at me. “That cover it?”
    “Do you know Mr. Parker?” I asked, and his expression immediately went sour.
    “Pick another question. I am not answering that one.” It was the first time I heard real anger in his voice.
    “Wait. Mr. Parker is pretty cool. What’s wrong with him?” Which, of course, was the absolute wrong thing to ask.
    “Little Ms. Parker is everything that is wrong with this town, in my opinion. Walking around like he is Foster’s most eligible bachelor when he is as gay as any three guys I know. If guys like him came out and told people they were gay, there would be a lot more people realizing we are as normal as everyone else.” He raised his knee up to steer as he lit another cigarette. When the car weaved a little, I reached over and steadied it.
    “He did come out,” I said as he flicked his ashes out the window.
    Robbie grabbed the wheel and gave me a long stare. “When?”
    “When they were threatening to kick Brad off the baseball team. He came out and spoke for him, pretty much told everyone he was gay.” I was confused because I knew it wasn’t like that was front page news, but nearly everyone in town seemed to know what had happened. Maybe Robbie really did keep to himself.
    “And who made him do that?” Robbie asked after a few seconds of seething silence.
    “Um… my mom, I think,” I reasoned, since I hadn’t asked her.
    “Who’s your mom?” He now sounded suspicious.
    “Um, Linda Stilleno. You just met her. She went to school with him.”
    He seemed to digest that news and then shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Tyler Parker is an asshole, a total closet case. I want you to promise me that you will never count on him to back you up.” The look he shot me was dead serious. “I mean it,” he added. “He is only on one person’s side: his own. I don’t want you to get caught up in all that straight-looking jock camouflage because deep down, he is a self-loathing SOB and will stab you in the back.” He tossed his smoke out the window. “End of story.”
    I settled in and decided not to say another word.
    We ended up out in the middle of nowhere, which is a feat since most of Foster was nowhere to begin with. On a stretch of road that went even farther nowhere stood a little dive bar. It looked like every other dive bar within fifty miles of Foster—all wood, no windows, more like a chicken coop with delusions of grandeur. Weeds pocked the dry, dull dirt all around and made the bar even uglier. I almost choked when he pulled into the “parking lot.”
    “Did you bring me out here to harvest my kidney or something?” I asked, half joking.
    He gave me a half grin to match my half joke, I had a feeling. “I bet other people find that sarcastic wit just oh so cute.” He turned off the car. “Yeah, I brought you here. Don’t judge a book by its cover.”
    “You show up, practically kidnap me, and bring me to what I think every serial killer’s hideout looks like, and I am not supposed to judge?” I shot back, slamming my door. “So far I am the dumb blond in every horror movie I’ve ever seen.”
    He spun on me with a passion that shocked me out of my funk. “Look, you want to live in New York or West Hollywood and have that attitude, great. But until then, try to remember you live in Mayberry, and that means not everything is nice and shiny like you see on Queer as Folk . So before you start