Page 30 of Catcher's Lock

“It’d be a shit ton of work. And I think you’re overestimating my abilities.”

“I’m not scared of work. And you’reunderestimating yourself. You do that a lot,” I finish quietly.

“You’re fucking high.”

“I am. That doesn’t mean it’s not a good idea.”

“My dad will never go for it.”

“He will if we come up with something really good. He misses it too. And I know he still talks to your mom. She might even agree to be like an adviser or something. Help with casting.”Please say yes.

He blows three smoke rings into the trees.

“Okay.”

It almost works.

In an uncharacteristic display of self-awareness, Gem comes up with a Lost Boys theme. The concept is brilliant, which I tell him repeatedly, and although it doesn’t completely stop his partying, something in him settles as he’s slowly coaxed into forgetting his insecurities.

Instead of surfing, we spend our afternoonsporing over promo reels and YouTube videos of performers his family’s connected to, discussing the feasibility of building a tramp wall in the tent, and researching possible venues around the state. And—much to my not-so-covert delight—Gem is practicing on his pole again. Regularly. In these tight gym shirts that ostensibly protect his skin from the grip coating but mainly seem designed to hug his muscles and make gay guys drool.

Hals catches on to our scheming pretty quickly when we start asking “hypothetical” questions about costs and contracting. He doesn’t make any immediate promises, but he’s obviously happy to have us back in the tent doing something that doesn’t leave him with a mess to clean up and new worries in his eyes.

For a while, it feels like that first spring when I thought I’d found my future in a blue-eyed boy and a striped tent. Then, two weeks before Thanksgiving, Shilo returns with Cheyenne and Milla in tow.

And everything goes to shit.

11

Stripping (is better than jail)

Josha

Age 24 (Now)

“You sure you’re not coming in?” Gem asks as we sit in the truck outside the entrance to Tippy’s. “I could sneak you in the back, and you might see something you like.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Still a virgin, Rocket? Afraid to get too close to a hot dick?”

“Fuck you. I’ve been to a gay strip club before.”

“Really?” His obvious skepticism has me bristling as much as the “virgin” comment. God, I hate that cocky smirk.

“Sure. Echo and I used to go all the time.”Chew on that, dickhead.

All the timeis an exaggeration. It was three times. And Rachael tagged along for the last two, but Gem doesn’t need to know my sister got in on the “let’s teach Josha how to be a good gay boy” experiment.

As my best gay male friend, Echo spent a good portion of the first summer after Gem disappeared trying to distract me with all the experiences he decided I was missing. It wasn’t so bad until Rachael got involved, but no amount of awe for Echo’s flawless confidence could make having my sister tagging along any less awkward. And it didn’t help that they instantly adored each other. Byrd and I would end up at the corner of the bar while the two of them took over the dance floor or showered some guy in a fireman’s hat and a G-string with dollar bills. Luckily, Echo’s boyfriend is one of the hottest men known to god, so he made a pretty good shield for absorbing unwanted attention.

Eventually, Cheyenne pulled me aside and told me that just because it wasn’t a word Echo was used to hearing, didn’t mean I wasn’t allowed to say “no.”

“No one else gets to tell you how to be gay, Josha. I live less than a hundred yards from my wife’s ex-husband. You think my lesbian friends back home don’t give me shit about that? But it’s my life, and it works for me. For us. You need to figure out what works for you. And it doesn’t have to look the same as it does for Echo.”

I didn’t tell her that sometimes I got tired of feeling like I was only gay on theinside. It was hard not to wish I were more like Echo, his identity shouting from every vibrant move and cocky comment. It was hard not to envy the way he captured Byrd so completely, bulldozing through every obstacle between them.

But Cheyenne’s words were also a revelation.Beinggay wasn’t a decision, but what that meant to me, and what I made of it, was.