Page 79 of The Way We Swing Back

I tossed my phone away, disgusted. I shoved myself upright and reached for the nightstand, pulling out the story Tanner had written two years ago for the school newspaper. I hadn’t known he was doing it, so when Joe had asked me in math class if I knew Tanner was gay, my instinct had been to deflect, as I thought he’d found out about me, too.

Then he’d handed me a copy of the school newspaper with the title Safe at Home sprawled across the front. The words in Tanner’s story that had hit hardest weren’t the ones stating he was gay—which, obviously, I had managed to piece together—but the ones describing how he felt safe enough to tell his family and how much of a weight had come off of his shoulders.

I’d spent that day knowing I wouldn’t ever have that—a support system where I could be gay or—as Tanner had once told me—a goddamn tiger. The thought of Tanner being able to be out and happy and living the life he deserved had made me thrilled for him.

After we had lost in the state finals, Tanner had agreed to have the article posted in the city paper, which was shocking. That’d taken balls and more comfort in himself than I’d thought he had. I had cut out a copy of the article from that paper, too, and put it in an old school folder; the only other clippings in that folder were those from my dad's court cases and Mom’s obituary.

Both copies of the story were starting to fade, the edges wrinkling like my grandma’s face. I read the story again, mouthing words I’d memorized without meaning to, before rolling out of bed and walking toward Gavin’s room.

Tanner was still on Gavin’s top bunk, his phone in his hand, Gavin having joined him on the bottom bunk.

“Are you doing anything, Tanner?” I asked. I looked around the room; Tanner’s suitcase was perched against the wall, still unpacked, having refused to let me give him his old room back.

“No, what’s up?”

“Can you drive with me somewhere? It’ll be, like, an hour.” It was the first time I had specifically asked him for a favor.

“Sure.”

“I’ll come, too,” Gavin said, not even knowing the plan.

“Meet me in the car with Zach.”

I sat in the front seat, as the only one with the address, rehearsing in my mind what I’d say. Zach controlled the music from the back and was playing rap; Gavin tried to scream a conversation over the lyrics, asking me where we were going, but I ignored him.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Tanner asked, not looking away from the highway.

“What do you mean?” I said, my phone twirling in my hand.

“I know what direction we’re going. Just making sure you’re up for it.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course he’d pieced it together. “I’ll be good,” I said, unsure of my words.

Twenty minutes later, we pulled into a mobile home park. I’d never been here before, but it wasn’t too difficult to find the home address of a convicted felon.

“That’s his truck,” I said, pointing at the beat-up Chevy next to an even more beat-up trailer.

Tanner parked across the street as Zach turned off the music.

“Stay here unless I need you guys,” I said, opening the door to questions and arguments from all three, the words bouncing off my back.

My feet scraped across the gravel, my eyes never leaving the door. A dog barked somewhere nearby, but not as loudly as the doors of the Quinns’ car shutting behind me. I didn’t turn around; I knew they wouldn’t follow but just hover outside the vehicle, ready to pounce.

I knocked on the white door, my knuckles brushing the fading paint.

The door swung open, and my dad started to talk. “What the hell—” He looked me over, realizing who stood in front of him.

I stared back, my fists balled, my voice steadier than I felt on the inside. “I’m going to talk, and you’re going to stand there and listen.”

Dad stepped back but didn’t say anything, his hands folded across his chest.

“I don’t want you coming to the game on Monday. It’s the most important game I’ve ever played, and you’ll be nothing more than a distraction. And when we win a state title, I don’t want you to be there.

“You don’t get to celebrate and pretend you had anything to do with me being who I am. I’ve spent the last nine months living in a house that showed me more love than you were able to show me my entire life.

“You are no longer my father. Not after what you did to me. Especially not after what you pushed Mom to do.”

Dad pointed at me. “I didn’t—”