Page 16 of Fanboy in the Falls (Devon Falls #3)

I’ll never understand why Dave doesn’t see that.

I can only imagine what would happen if he found out I was getting ready to try dating one guy he calls those horrible names and another one he thinks is a perfect model of “maleness” for his son.

He’d probably have Lou out of Devon Falls so fast Lou’s tutu would still be spinning in the closet.

Dave hangs up then, and somehow I manage to hang up too without destroying the phone or any of Dave’s walls.

“Gabe?” Lou peeks his head into the living room.

“Are you done with your phone call? Can we go to school now?”Oh, shoot.

We’ve got to get going. As we rush through backpack prep and I help Lou slide on his Mary Janes, the ones I trade out for sneakers whenever Dave’s home, I can’t stop myself from asking him a question I never ask.

“Lou, do you miss your daddy when he’s gone? ”

Lou frowns. “Sometimes, I think. But he’s sad and mad a lot when he’s here, and you’re never sad and mad. So I don’t mind when it’s just me and you, Gabe. C’mon! Today’s pizza day in the cafeteria!” He grabs my hand and leads me out of the house.

“Gabe! Gabe Gomez!”

Oh, crud. Amelia’s waving excitedly from her yard. Her pink bangs stick up in excitement as she jogs past a lawn gnome and over to me. “My goodness, you’re a hard man to catch these days! I thought we were going to chat after that town hall meeting, but you just disappeared!”

“Sorry about that!” I say, and my voice sounds so high in my ears it could be a balloon about to pop. “I, uh, had to help some friends with something. Didn’t mean to run away from you there.” Which is a total lie, of course. I very, very definitely meant to run away from her.

“No problem at all,” she says brightly. “I’m just glad I caught you today.

I really need to talk to Dave about that tree our backyards share; it’s an absolute menace to the tomato plants Ellie and I are growing.

Attracts every squirrel in town. So when will Dave be home?

Seems like he’s already been gone quite a while. ”

I open up my mouth while my brain processes what to say. Maybe I should just tell her. Tell her that Dave’s basically an absentee father, and when he is here he’s more focused on what Lou’s wearing than what Lou eats.

The words are nearly at the edge of my mouth when I remember: I remember how I felt watching Dave drive away.

I remember the social worker, his hand on my shoulder as he walked me to his car to take me to a building filled with bunk beds and strangers.

I curled up in a corner of one of those beds and cried all night that night, wishing my mother or Dave or Lou or anyone I knew and loved was there with me. Anyone at all.

That stupid arrest record hovers above me, and nasty voices chant in my head. The state isn’t going to take Lou away from Dave because Dave doesn’t like when he wears dresses. And even if they did take him for neglect, they’ll never give him to you. Not with that charge on your record.

That stupid, stupid charge.

I can’t do it. I can’t say the words. So I swallow hard, determined to keep my smile firmly in place. “Um, I’ll talk to Dave about the tree.”

“Wonderful!” Amelia says cheerfully. “I’m sure we can get this all sorted out. Dave doesn’t seem to spend much time in that yard, anyway. Thank you, Gabe.” Amelia starts back across her lawn, and I breathe out a long, quiet sigh of relief.

Annnd then she turns back around. Drat.

But she stays standing where she is. “Gabe,” she says. “I just wanted to let you know… I’ve noticed Lou’s really coming into his own with his wardrobe choices, isn’t he?”

I freeze. Where’s she going with this? “Um… yes?” I finally say.

She nods. “Well, I just wanted to make sure you knew that you and Lou and Dave are always welcome at the Devon Falls LGBTQIA2S+ society meetings. Once a month, on Wednesday nights at my church. We have great cookies.”

If I had time and energy to cry right now, I probably would.

Because in so many ways, my little brother and I are the luckiest people on the planet.

We live in a town with a thriving LGBTQIA2S+ society and a population that never even blinks when my little brother puts on a skirt or Mary Janes or wears prince costumes to birthday parties.

I manage to keep the smile on my face, though. Because I’ll figure out how to keep Lou safe, and loved, and protected. I have to. “Thanks, Amelia,” I finally say.

I drop Lou off at school, but I don’t leave right away. Instead, I park the truck in a far corner of the parking lot and pull out my phone. Then I ask Google questions I hate asking, because it never gives me the answers I want.

Yes, Google reminds me. Arrest records are taken into account when determining foster placements.

No, Google reminds me. There’s nothing illegal about parents telling their child they cannot wear a skirt or dress or certain shoes.

Yes, Google reminds me. Siblings have minimal custody rights while parents are still alive.

Yes, Google finally says. Buses leave the Burlington station regularly, with routes going through New York, Boston, and Maine.

I can’t kidnap my little brother. That’s not me. I’m not a kidnapper. Lou and I can’t live on the run for the rest of our lives. How would I even keep us alive? Fed?

But I can’t let Dave take Lou away, either. I can’t let Dave spend the rest of Lou’s childhood telling him there’s something wrong with him. Not when I could have stopped that from happening.

I sink my head down on the steering wheel of the truck and run my hands across its damaged leather seats. My father sat here once. My mother, too. She drove this truck sometimes, back when it was just sitting in our garage in Connecticut, waiting for me to inherit it.

“Mom,” I whisper. “Dad. I really, really wish you were here right now.”

And then I do something I don’t let myself do very often. I cry for a long time, and I cry hard.