Aimee Payne
Corey hid from his sister Emily’s bad mood in the hayloft of the barn behind their grandmother’s house. His sister’s book of fairy tales—the old-style ones that had stories with toes cut off and eyes gouged out—lay open on a bristled hay bale, forgotten for the moment, while Corey stared up at a sliver of blazing sky he could see through a crack between sheets of the corrugated steel roof. Brittle hay jabbed through his shirt, making him itch. The book had belonged to their mother; she had read it to them for bedtime stories and never skipped over the grisly stuff. Emily would kill him if she knew he brought it out here to read. He didn’t care. He was allowed to miss Mom, too.
Though summer was nearly over, the days remained hot. Too hot for lazing around the hayloft, but nights had cooled enough for jeans and sweatshirts. Corey closed the book. He had hoped reading it would make him feel bad about leaving town for university. He should be guilty about living far away from the only family he had left, but inside all he felt was the need to escape.
“Cor-ey!” Gran yelled from the house, her voice lifting on the last syllable.
He brushed hay off the book cover and tucked it into the waistband of his pants. No reason to piss Emily off any more than she already was. The whole summer, everything he did caused one of her tantrums. Fine if she didn’t want him around…she’d get what she wanted. He hadn’t told Gran yet, but he planned on getting a job as soon as he got to Columbus. By the time summer rolled around again he’d have enough money saved up for an apartment. Or at least to share one. Gran and Emily could come down to visit, but he’d be out of this dead-end town for good.
“Corey!”
He climbed down the ladder. Out in the farmyard, Gran stood with her hand shielding her eyes against the sun. When she saw him coming out of the barn, she shook her head.
“You’re going to fall to your death messing around in that hayloft.”
He shrugged, heading toward the house. She poked him as he went by. “Lisa called.” Her gray eyebrows gave a wiggle.
Corey kept walking. While Gran knew he was gay—and was one of the few folk around here who didn’t care a lick about it—she did still enjoy teasing him about girls. Especially when it came to his best friend, Lees (no one had called her Lisa in ages).
“That girl has nice birthing hips,” Gran called after him. She laughed.
Corey pulled the back door open a little harder than he meant, and it smacked against the siding. The cool air from the window unit in the living room blasted his sweat to ice. He pulled off his soaked shirt and wiped himself down. Then he went to the fridge for the two-liter of Barq’s Gran bought special for him. He did feel a little bad about leaving Gran. She had held the family together through every disaster: Dad leaving for parts unknown right after Emily was born; after Mom got real sick.
He took his pop and sat at the table. The kitchen hadn’t been part of the original farmhouse. Gramps tacked it on sometime in the ’50s. It held him at arm’s length while the other rooms seemed to hug him close. These days he hung out there as much as possible. It made leaving easier.
Emily walked in. She wore a pair of sport shorts and a baggy T-shirt that might have been Corey’s about a million years ago. She smirked when she saw him. “Well, aren’t you the most disgusting thing in the room.”
He shrugged, but her tone stung. Two could play that game. “Nice to see you, too. Going to church?”
She stopped, her hand reaching for his root beer, and shot him a questioning look.
“You aren’t dressed like a baby prostitute, so I thought…church.” His hand tightened on the bottle. Let her get her own damned drink.
Her lip trembled. For a second, Corey thought he might have gone too far, but then she rolled her eyes and said, “Jerk.” She took a carton of orange juice out of the refrigerator and poured herself a drink.
They used to be close. After Mom died, they’d even slept in the same room. He came home from school one day and found his mattress on the floor of Emily’s bedroom. But Emily’s nightmares grew so bad, Gran had to take her to a shrink, who put her on anxiety meds. Corey could then move back into his room. For the past two years, Emily had been better…until this past June.
Emily hoisted herself up onto the counter, her bare heels thumping against the wood. Corey ignored her. Brat. “So, when are you checking into the dorm?”
“Monday.” He didn’t look up.
Her heels stopped. “I thought it was Friday.”
“Look on it as an early birthday present.”
Emily’s frown deepened. She fixed him with a hard glare. Or maybe she just was trying not to cry.
Corey softened. “Em—”
She slammed her empty glass down on the counter. Corey winced at the crack that raced up one side near her fingers. She jumped down. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, her voice colder than the air. “I don’t need any special good-byes.”
As Gran came in, carrying a bag full of green beans fresh from the garden, Emily stomped down the hall and up the stairs. A few seconds later, Corey heard her door slam and music start.
Gran whistled. “That girl’s temper is shorter than Christmas night.”
“All I did was tell her when I was leaving.”
Gran nodded as she poured beans into a large plastic bowl, then ran water over them. “She’s taking it hard.”
Corey pushed back from the table. “I don’t think so. She hasn’t even spoken to me in two weeks, and that was to yell at me for hogging the bathroom.”
Gran brought the bowl to the table and started snapping the beans for supper. “You spend a lot of time shaving.”
“Gran!”
She waved her hand at him. “All right. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” She paused. “You and me are all the family that girl has. Don’t you think maybe she’s a little scared you aren’t ever coming back?”
Corey didn’t have a ready answer. Gran wasn’t stupid. Emily wasn’t either. They knew it wasn’t easy for him here, being who he was. Most people pretended they didn’t know. Sort of a community Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. But they did know, and some weren’t so good at pretending…and some were downright mean.
Gran raised her eyebrows.
Emily had been extra bratty lately, but she was his sister. He didn’t want her to be scared. He could try to make things okay before he left. He stood. “All right, I’m going.”
Gran wrinkled her nose. “It wouldn’t hurt you to take a shower while you’re up there.”
“Ha ha.”
The second floor hummed with the sound of window fans trying to drown out Emily’s whiny indie-girl music. Gran’s theory of thermodynamics required the fans upstairs to blow hot air out of the house during the day and the cool air in at night. It was kind of telling that Gran slept downstairs on the couch with the AC going full blast.
He stopped in front of Emily’s door. “Em? Can I come in?”
The music cut out. The door clicked open. Emily walked back to the bed and flopped down. “What do you want?” she said, picking up a beat-up copy of Cosmo.
Corey shook his head. That’s how they were playing it, then. Fine. She wanted to be mad. Usually when she was like that, the best thing to do was leave her be. He didn’t have time for that, though. He sat on the edge of the bed. “I thought you knew when I was leaving.”
He was just about to apologize—for nothing—when the phone rang.
“Oh, hell, that’s probably Lees. You mind?” He pointed at her phone, an antique with a working rotary dial.
“I’m not home.” She disappeared behind the magazine again.
Corey sighed. He answered the phone.
Sure enough, it was Lees’s voice on the other end. “Do you want to go to the bonfire tonight?”
“Bonfire?” Corey said. Emily pretended to turn a page in her magazine.
“At some abandoned house in the woods off 33. Which means no supervision, which means the perfect end-of-summer-get-on-with-your-life-already party.”
Corey put his hand over the receiver. “Em, you want to go to a bonfire tonight?”
Emily shook her head, still pretending fascination with “5 Ways to Set Your Man On Fire.”
Whatever. “Yeah, Lees. I’ll go. Em’s not interested.”
They said good-bye. When he hung up the phone, Emily rattled the magazine, pretending to turn another page.
“So you’re going,” she said, a little too cool.
Corey shrugged. “There’s going to be fireworks.”
“It’s just—I mean, it could be dangerous out in the woods.”
Corey smiled. Dangerous? When was their corner of Ohio ever dangerous? “No more so than any other time beer and fireworks are involved.”
She frowned. “I don’t think you should go messing around that abandoned house.”
“How did you know where the party was?”
Emily’s face flushed. He thought she might say something, but she shook her head again. “I heard. Have fun.”
“If there’s something you want to tell me…”
Her fierce look stopped him. “Shut the door behind you.”
“Fine.” He did as she asked. That’s all he ever did.
*
Corey spent the rest of the afternoon napping. He came downstairs for supper: Gran’s green beans, potatoes, and ham. Emily didn’t show. Dealing with her snit would have to wait until tomorrow.
But when Lees pulled into the driveway and honked her horn, Emily was at the bottom of the stairs, her head poking through the dark gray hoodie she was pulling over a plain white T-shirt and faded blue jeans. She stuck out her chin. “I’m coming along.”
That was all he needed, a spoiled brat pouting at him while he was trying to have fun. He grabbed a jacket and said good-bye to Gran. Emily followed.
Lees waved. She had recently given up her uniform of cat T-shirts and jumper dresses and was now in the clutches of a new phase: black skinny jeans, long gray shirt, black vest, and a gray fedora sporting a red feather.
As she drove, Lees launched into a rapid chatter about her new job as a library page. From the way she spoke, it mostly involved gossiping over who spent a little too much time in the erotica section and the stupid things patrons asked her to find.
Corey would miss Lees. He doubted he’d ever find at Columbus anyone who liked Baz Luhrmann movies and ’80s hair bands as much as she did. And who else wanted to stay up all night eating cherry licorice and learning the dance routines in old Britney Spears videos? They’d been doing that since seventh grade. Just last week they got all the way through “Oops…I Did It Again” without any mistakes. It took so long because Lees’s Britney impersonation made him laugh until his head ached.
Lees turned off the paved road onto a rough gravel one marked TR 33. Someone had spray-painted 1/3 next to the number. In the back, Emily groaned when they turned onto an even rougher road. Hardly a road, even. It was two tracks with grass tall enough to brush the underside of the car. The headlights picked out the glint of broken glass up ahead. They passed a few cars parked in the grass. Firelight silhouetted the house so that it looked not only deserted but derelict. It didn’t get any better when they turned and their headlights revealed the front. If the house had ever been painted, the color was gone now, the boards weathered to a dull gray, the windows gaping an empty black. The thump-thump of a stereo out back sounded like a heartbeat.
Lees parked the car and hopped out. “Come on,” she said, taking off toward the house. She was keyed up about something.
Emily got out and plodded after.
Corey followed. As he did, he realized he was already over this party. He’d graduated. He was past the whole high school thing. Next week he’d be in college with college parties and college guys. He didn’t need this, and the idea of spending any more time with his former schoolmates left him cold.
Corey and Emily walked around the house. The bonfire was more of a campfire. A few kids from his school—make that his ex-school—gathered around a keg. A few stray firecrackers popped in the dark.
Lees headed straight for the house’s rickety back porch. A boy pushed away from where he had been leaning against the side of the house. That’s what she’s so excited about, Corey thought. Go Lees.
The boy was cute. Not just any old cute, either. This boy was exactly the kind of cute that Corey liked. Floppy hair, slight scruff, but not too “done.” Corey had to admit he was actually sort of jealous.
“Ritchie!” Lees ran the last few feet and launched herself at the boy. He caught her and swung her around.
“I get it.” Emily stood next to Corey. “She’s setting you up.”
“What? You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. He’s her cousin from Cleveland.”
“He’s just a kid.”
“Not anymore,” Emily said, then walked over to Lees and Ritchie.
Corey groaned. Just what he needed: a set-up.
Lees broke away from the boy and gestured for Corey to come over. “Guys, this is Ritchie Crilow. He’s my cousin.”
Emily shot Corey an I-told-you-so look. All right. She’d earned that. She was still a brat.
The boy took Corey’s offered hand. “It’s Rich. Only Lisa and my mom call me Ritchie.” Rich’s grip was strong.
Corey thought of Gran’s comment about Lees’s birthing hips and wondered what she’d say about Rich’s handshake. He blushed. “I’m Corey, and this is my brat Emily.”
Lees went to the keg and returned with bright red cups of beer for all of them. Like usual, Lees did most of the talking. Corey half listened, letting the beer seep into his brain. Every so often he found himself staring at Rich. So cute. Maybe they didn’t have to leave so soon.
Emily sat on the porch floor with her back against the house. Her beer cup sat next to her, untouched. She laughed at Rich’s jokes, but every so often she’d stop and scan the growing crowd. Probably looking for one of her juvie friends so she could run off. Whatever. Corey didn’t need her shit. He edged closer to Rich. He had better things to think about.
“Hey, faggots! The party can start!”
Corey froze, his cup halfway to his mouth. Three guys rounded the corner of the house. Ray, Mike, and Jason. He didn’t bother with last names. Assholes don’t usually formally introduce themselves when they are slamming your head into a locker. Corey hadn’t had any serious run-ins with them, just the stupid stuff in the hall. He had made it his business to steer clear of them.
The three made for the keg, and Corey lowered himself next to Emily. Lees noticed him on the floor and raised an eyebrow. Corey nodded toward the keg. Her eyes widened. “Shit,” she muttered.
“What?” Rich turned to look. “Who are they?”
“Homophobic assholes,” Corey said.
Emily let out a strangled noise.
“Em?” Corey touched his sister’s shoulder. She flinched away.
Lees knelt next to Emily. “Are you all right?”
She wasn’t. She hadn’t been the life of the party before, but now she was almost catatonic. Her back had stiffened and she’d pulled the hood of her sweatshirt down over her face. Before the meds, she used to do the same thing right before freaking out.
“I think we should go,” Rich said.
The three guys had taken over the keg and were spraying beer from the hose and spigot into each other’s mouths. They probably had started drinking hours ago. One of them, Jason, kept throwing glances in their direction.
When Corey stood up, to lead the way back to Lees’s car, Jason smirked and smacked one of the other guys.
“Oh, hell.” Corey gauged the distance from the porch to the corner of the house. They’d never make it to the car. They’d have to go through the house. He glanced at the back door at the other end of the porch.
Rich caught Corey’s glance toward the door. “If they turn back to the keg for a fill-up, head for the door.”
Corey smiled at Rich. That boy had just earned a good-night kiss if he wanted it.
He eased Emily to her feet. Lees sprang after them. They moved toward the door. Jason and his friends weren’t coming toward the porch. Maybe they didn’t want a fight. Or they weren’t so drunk to forget that football practice had already started for the year; the coach ran a clean team with a zero tolerance policy, so if the boys got caught fighting, they’d get benched.
Jason swiped the tap and started to fill his cup. As soon as his eyes were off them, Corey nodded at Rich. They hustled Emily and Lees across the back porch. Corey twisted the doorknob. The door opened about three inches, then stopped.
Fireworks crack-popped behind them. Jason let out a yelp. One of surprise, not pain. Corey and Rich threw themselves against the door. It scraped across the warped floorboards.
Corey pushed Emily and Lees through the opening, then squeezed through after them. Rich came in last, pushing the door closed after him. He locked the ancient slide bolt.
“If they figure out where we went, that will hold them for a few minutes.”
They stood in a room bare except for the rotted cabinet with an old iron hand pump rusting on top. Probably a kitchen. Opposite the back door was another door leading to a hallway.
“Here’s Johnny,” Rich said, leaning through.
Corey grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the door. “Let’s not be here if they get in.”
They filed out of the kitchen and into the hallway. The house was silent. Another hour and the party would trickle inside, two by groping two.
Lees closed the door behind them, cutting out any light from the fire.
“I can’t see anything,” Emily said.
Corey nudged her forward, very aware that he still held Rich’s hand. He felt warm and jittery. He would get his sister out of this. “Just follow the hall. The front door is at the far end.”
They crept forward. The air stank of a hundred years of mold. It felt heavy, like they had to swim through it instead of walk.
Corey’s eyes adjusted to the dark but not enough to make out more than the faint edges of the stair railing and the outlines of a door with a boarded window in front of them. They shuffled forward, all in a group.
At the foot of the stairs, Emily stopped. Corey bumped into her, then Rich bumped him. He tripped over some broken splinters of stair rail. Rich reached out to steady him, and his breath caught. Just a quick squeeze, he told himself. It doesn’t mean anything.
“Something’s wrong,” Emily said.
“The door’s right there,” Corey said. His palm started to sweat. Rich dropped his hand. He probably thinks I’m a gross pig, Corey thought. He wiped his hands on his jeans.
Emily inched forward. “Did you hear that? Like an echo?”
Corey listened. The house creaked around them. The sound of fireworks came from out back, more like popcorn than gunshots now. He shook his head. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Corey—”
“Stop being such a baby.” The words came out harder than he meant, but he didn’t have time for her brat act. “We have to get out of here or those guys are going to beat me to a bloody puddle.”
Emily rounded on him. “That’s right, Corey. Everything’s about you.”
And here was the freak-out. At least they’d get it over with before Corey got his face broken. “Who else would it be about? I’ve been ducking a game of Smear the Queer with those guys for two years.”
“And being your baby sister is so easy.” She gestured toward the back of the house. “Listening to the comments assholes like that make about you is so much fun.”
Corey’s mouth opened. Even when she’d still talked to him, they’d kept their distance at school. They moved in different circles. Her with popular party kids, and him with Lees.
“I don’t need you to protect me.” He meant that he could take care of himself. Only, it came out like he didn’t need her…which, in a way, was exactly what he’d been telling himself for that past three months.
Emily’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. I won’t.” She turned and marched toward the door. She only took a few steps before Corey saw why she’d heard an echo. There was a hole the size of a truck tire right in the middle of the hall.
“Emily!”
It was too late. Her foot caught the lip of the hole. If she hadn’t been angry, she might have been able to hop forward. But she’d put her foot down too hard. Her arms slammed into the floor as she caught herself before going all the way through.
Corey lunged forward, but Rich caught his arm and pulled him back. “You don’t need to fall, too.” He nodded toward the floor.
“You don’t know how stable the rest of it is.” Corey took a deep breath. “Emily? Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m not okay. I’m hanging by my armpits in a hole!”
Corey would have laughed if it wouldn’t have made him look like a jackass. If Em was acting like a brat, chances were she wasn’t hurt too bad. Gran was still going to kill him, but she wouldn’t kill him too dead.
Rich pulled out his lighter. Corey looked at it, then up at Rich’s face. “You had that the whole time?”
Rich gave him a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry. Everything happened so fast.” He lit it and held it up.
Now that he could see the hole, he couldn’t believe they’d missed it. Well, Em hadn’t.
Lees rolled her eyes. “You guys are useless.” She scooted around the hole and lay flat on the floor. She clamped her hands over Emily’s wrists and pulled. Emily shifted maybe a half inch. The floor creaked. Lees scowled up at Corey and Rich. “You think you two could give me a hand instead of standing there like a couple of idiots?”
“I saw a door that might go to the basement,” Rich said. “We can try to push her up…or catch her.” He held up the lighter. A door was set at the back of the stairs.
“We’ll get you, Em,” Corey called. He smacked Rich on the shoulder and headed for the door. As soon as Corey opened the door, the moldy smell multiplied by a factor of ten. He coughed. Definitely the basement.
“That reeks,” Rich said. “And those stairs could be just as rotten as the floor.”
Corey eased himself onto the first step. “It seems solid enough.”
Rich tensed, handing Corey the lighter.
“What?” Corey said.
He turned toward the kitchen. “I haven’t heard the back door explode into kindling.”
Where was the asshole brigade? “Maybe they didn’t see where we went. I’ll worry about that when I’ve saved my little sister from breaking her neck.”
Rich shrugged and started to follow Corey down the steps.
Corey held up a hand. “Maybe you should wait until I’m all the way down.” Corey tested each step with his foot, feeling them bow beneath his weight.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs in one piece, he motioned Rich to follow but he didn’t wait. “Em, I’m coming!” He made his way to the spot where he thought Emily should be. He held up the lighter. He saw the hole, but Emily’s legs were gone. “Emily!”
Her face appeared in the hole. “What?”
“What happened?”
“I climbed up. In case you haven’t noticed, Corey, I’m not actually a baby.”
“You better hurry,” said Lees from above. “Those guys are out by my car.”
Corey ran for the steps and ran smack into Rich. They fell in a tangle of arms and legs with Corey on top. The darkness settled around them. Before Corey could push up, Rich’s lips brushed against his. He tasted like mint gum.
For a second, Corey relaxed. He stopped thinking about Emily and the guys outside. He stopped thinking about leaving.
It only lasted a second.
Corey pulled away.
Rich’s breath whuffed out. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” said Corey.
“It’s just a kiss.”
Just a kiss, thought Corey. Just? He’d read all the stories. A kiss always meant something. They brought girls back to life. They turned frogs into princes. They made heroes forget.
“We’re not picking out china patterns. I’m just kissing a cute boy.”
Just, again. The kiss freaked Corey out, and Rich’s way-too-cool reaction to it kind of hurt. He didn’t expect Prince Charming to sweep him up on a white horse or anything, but he’d wanted his first kiss to be special.
Rich backed away. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
The stairs creaked as he climbed up to the first floor. Corey sat in the dark. It smelled like the inside of last summer’s cooler, but it was a lot better than going upstairs. He put his head in his hands. What had he been thinking? Just brush off his best friend? His family? All because he didn’t like living here.
“Hey, Corey?” Lees called down through the hole. “You might want to come up here.”
Corey picked his way up the stairs as fast as he could. Lees, Rich, and Emily huddled around the door’s window. Lees had cleared a small hole near one corner and was looking out.
Something crashed against the door, and all three jumped back. “Beer bottle?” Corey said.
Lees glanced at him. “The Three Stooges are on the front porch. I think they popped my front tire with a hunting knife.”
Rich wouldn’t look at Corey. Emily did, though.
“They want to kill me,” she said. Another beer bottle hit the door. She flinched.
Corey stared at her. “You?”
She stared right back. “I was at a party graduation night.”
Not mine, Corey thought.
“I’d had a couple of beers. Jason and his goons stumbled in, already plastered. Jason said, ‘Hey look, it’s the fag’s sister.’ I told him to shut up, but he kept calling you a fag. It pissed me off, so I punched him.” Her hand curled into a fist, as if fondly remembering the act.
Corey looked down. The spokes from the stair rail lay on the floor next to his feet. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I couldn’t just stand there and listen to that shit.”
“It’s not fair, I know. Things will be better when I’m not around.”
She wiped her hand across her face. “You’re my brother, Corey.”
“You sure haven’t acted like it for the last three months.”
There it was…the real reason he wanted out of this place so badly. He could take people pretending he was just like everyone else. He could even take the occasional run-ins with jerks like Jason. What he couldn’t take was his sister acting like a stranger.
“Come out, little girl,” someone—Corey guessed Jason—called in a singsong. “Let’s see how you do in a fair fight.”
Emily looked down at her feet. “So you’re going to leave?” Her voice wobbled, and the sound stabbed straight into Corey’s gut because that’s exactly what he had planned.
He’d called it “moving on,” but it was really running away. But not anymore.
She’d punched a guy for him. He almost laughed. Who needed a knight on a horse when his baby sister was around? And there were Rich and Lees, peeking out the window at the very guy. They probably could have just walked around the house…especially Rich. But they didn’t. They stuck with him.
Something heavy hit the door. The lock held, but the old wood around it split. Lees, Emily, and Rich picked their way around the hole. Another couple of hits like that and the thugs would be inside.
Corey stepped back and almost tripped over the stair rail spokes. Something hit the door again. This time, Corey could see the door outlined in light. Someone’s pointed their headlights at the front of the house, he thought.
He picked up one of the stair rail spokes. It was heavy, oak maybe, about the length of a baseball bat. He gave it an experimental swing. He hadn’t been in a lot of fights, but he figured it would be worth something.
“How far away are you parked?” he asked Rich.
Rich picked up another one of the posts. “Just at the end of the drive.”
“You mind giving us a lift?”
Emily picked up her own makeshift club. Lees bent to get one, but Rich stopped her. He held out his keys and motioned toward the back of the house. “You go around back and head for the car.”
Emily took the keys. She turned to go, but Corey grabbed her elbow.
“We are going to have a long talk when this is over.” He had to tell her how much she meant to him, that he wouldn’t just abandon her.
“Great,” she said with a grin.
Corey turned to Lees. “Stay out of the light.”
She nodded.
They slipped back down the hall. Corey heard the back door creak open. At least they’d be safe.
Rich flashed him a half smile. “This is one hell of a first date.”
Corey lifted his post, hiding a grin. Maybe he hadn’t completely blown it. “So, take a couple of swings, then run?”
Rich laughed. “Oh hell, yeah. Don’t leave me behind.”
“I won’t.”
He couldn’t even if it had been just a kiss. Sometimes you stood and fought. Sometimes you ran. Either way, there were some people you knew you could stick with.