Free Apocalypsis 03 - Exodus by Elle Casey

so-called slut; at least, not by the group of girls Winky hung out with.
    And now I had some ammo to use in my next conversation with Peter, and I was for sure going to get a confession out of him now. I nearly rubbed my hands with anticipation as I left the pool area for our hut.
    ***
    Peter wasn’t home when I got back, and I was so tired from all the treading water and excitement of the day, I fell asleep soon after lying down. When I woke up the next morning, he was already gone. I knew he’d been there, though, because the smoke sticks we used to keep the mosquitoes away were still lit and he’d left me some food in a basket by the pantry.
    “Dang that boy,” I said to Buster, who was lying on his back, fuzzy underparts exposed to the world. He obviously wasn’t one bit worried about leaving himself vulnerable. Either that, or he was being sure to have his belly available for anyone who might want to rub it a little. I scratched him between his front legs. “You are one hot mess, you know that, Buster? Look at you … your hair’s growing in all tangled, you smell like a fish’s butt, your teeth are just nasty . What are we going to do with you?”
    Buster decided that the thing I needed to do with him was to submit to his licking. Again.
    “Get away, mutt.” I shoved him over onto Peter’s mattress. “I have to go talk to a man about a horse.” I smiled to myself as I walked to the outhouse, Buster at my heels, remembering that ridiculous expression my dad used. I asked him time and again him why he didn’t just say he was going to the bathroom.
    “Because,” he’d answer, “no one needs to know when I’m about to do my business.”
    And I’d always respond with, “But everyone knows that expression, so you’re telling them anyway.”
    He’d frown at me and give me the same explanation he always did, that would end the conversation. “It’s all about being a part of polite society, Bryn. Sometimes it’s important to keep up the charade, and everyone agrees to do that without discussing it.”
    What is the world going to do without parents telling us how things should be? I guess I had my answer with the latest interaction with kids whose parents had done nothing to prepare them - the canners. Or who had prepared them in different ways than my dad and the parents of the kids in Kahayatle had.
    I finished in the outhouse and walked back to the hut, thinking about Peter and Trip and the things everyone had said last night. Is it possible that Trip is gay? Could he someday be Peter’s cuddle partner? Were we all being part of polite society by just ignoring it but wondering about it to ourselves? I was having a difficult time with the polite society thing. I wanted to ask and analyze and figure it all out. Peter needed a cuddle partner, and Trip wasn’t the worst he could do by far - if he was in the market for cuddling another guy. If Peter were a girlfriend, I’d be trying to hook her up too, so it didn’t feel wrong to have my nose in his and Trip’s business, even if maybe it should have. My mind wandered to Trip and all of my interactions with him.
    Trip had acted all sexy guy-ish the first time I’d met him; but looking back, I realized that it was almost as if he were putting on a show for all the people watching. I’d sensed some guys acting attracted to me since coming to the swamp, but Trip was never a part of that group. More than anything, he seemed irritated by me. I knew I wasn’t the prettiest girl in the world and not everyone was going to like me, but he didn’t even register on the realizing-I-was-a-girl sensor. Hmmmm. I need to find Peter and grill him until he caves. I had no idea where he was, but I knew he made cloth sometimes, and Winky said it was made in a hut near the pool; and I wanted to check out the no-gators system they had set up there anyway, so I headed off in that direction.
    Halfway there, I ran into Mandy.
    “Hey, Bryn. What’s up?”
    “Nothing.