Sand-Man's Family Page 3

  Sandy loved Portland, every weird and wonderful bit of it. He’d be forever grateful to Uncle Phineas for rescuing him and letting him come live out here. After a week of mainly hanging out with Phinney and his friends, though, Sandy was ready to meet some kids his own age. So he’d bought a board to replace the one he’d left in Rockford and taken himself to the skatepark.

  Always one of the popular kids at St. Ignatius, Sandy wasn’t shy. But Rockford didn’t come remotely close to Portland’s rad vibe. He stood on the sidelines, hesitating to insert himself into the scene.

  A guy with red-and-purple hair whizzed past and then stopped abruptly a few feet away. He turned and seemed to be sizing Sandy up. Glad now he’d dyed his hair green, Sandy stared at the guy, sizing him up in return.

  He was skinny. Medium height, about on par with Sandy. Pointy features.

  Black eyebrows that framed blue eyes in a pale face. Piercings—lip ring, eyebrow rod, earring. The guy cocked his head and swept his gaze over Sandy, then curled his lips up on one side. “New here?” he asked in a husky voice.

  “Yeah.”

  “Dive on in, dude.” The guy took off, executing an ollie with breathtaking precision.

  Sandy needed no further invitation. He got on his board and skated around the perimeter, checking out the various features and deciding what he wanted to tackle first. He thought he’d leave the big ramp for last. Hoping he wouldn’t have to bail on his first trick, Sandy plunged in.

  An hour later, winded and victorious, Sandy skated to the sidelines.

  He and the guy who people were calling Dare had kept their eyes on each other, showing off their moves and nodding their approval. But twilight approached, and Sandy knew Uncle Phinney would worry if he didn’t get home in time for dinner—such as it was, given Uncle Phinney’s limited cooking skills.

  Dare skated up to him. “Hey. Good skating, dude.”

  “Thanks. Nothing like you. You rock.”

  Dare wrinkled his brow. “Yeah? Thanks. What’s your name?”

  “Sandy. Sandy Nixon.”

  Dare gave that sidewise smile. “Cool. I’m Dare. Dare Tyler.”

  “Hi.”

  “You new in town?” Dare started bouncing up and down. Bounce, bounce, bounce. It made Sandy dizzy.

  “Yeah. I just moved here from Illinois.”

  “Illinois. Like Chicago and all that?” Dare pulled a cigarette and lighter out of his back pocket. “Wanna smoke?”

  “No thanks. Yeah, like Chicago, only I’m from Rockford, which is about two hours north.”

  “Yeah?” Dare lit up and inhaled, then let out the smoke with a satisfied air. “You wanna go to Voodoo?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Dude. Voodoo Doughnuts. It’s right over the bridge.” Dare pointed to the Burnside Bridge overhead. “They have killer doughnuts. There’s usually a line out the door, though.”

  Sandy pulled out the new phone Uncle Phinney had bought him to check the time. “Uh, I can’t. I’m staying with my uncle, and he gets antsy about stuff.”

  Something shut down in Dare’s expression, and he gave a shrug. “Suit yourself. See you around, I guess.” He walked away.

  “Hey, Dare!”

  Dare stopped and turned around. “Huh?”

  “Can we—I mean, you wanna give me your number? I’d like to go to that Voodoo place sometime. I just can’t tonight.”

  Dare’s expression opened up. “Cool.”

  After they exchanged phone numbers, Dare sauntered off in one direction while Sandy went in the other.

  As expected, Uncle Phinney pounced on Sandy with a worried expression as soon as he came in the door. “You couldn’t call? Or text? I didn’t know where you went!”

  “Sorry.” Sandy felt contrite. He loved Uncle Phinney, who had taken him into his home, no questions asked. “I went to the skatepark at Burnside.”

  “Okay, okay. But let me know next time. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I’m getting gray hair here!” Phinney ran his fingers through his reddish hair, which showed no trace of gray.

  “I’m really sorry.” Sandy went to the refrigerator to find something to drink.

  “Are you hungry? We have leftover pizza, leftover Chinese, and those chicken strips.”

  Sandy’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He grabbed it and felt his cheeks warm when he saw a text from Dare.

  Voodoo donuts tomorrow? 3 pm.

  “Who’s that? It’s not your mother, is it? Lord knows, she’s been calling me nonstop trying to find out if you’re here. Thank God we got rid of your old phone.”

  “No. It’s a friend. He wants me to meet him at Voodoo Doughnuts tomorrow.”

  Uncle Phinney lost the worried expression. “You’re already making friends? That’s good. And remember, Da Beat rehearsal tomorrow night.”

  “Awesome.” Sandy returned Dare’s text, agreeing to meet him, then ran down the hall to his room to stash his skateboard.

  Dare-Land—Doughnuts and Desire

  Sandy hopped off his skateboard as he approached the sidewalk near Voodoo Doughnuts. Dare wasn’t kidding about the line out the door, but Dare stood at the end of it, backpack over his shoulders. Sandy waved, then regretted it as too enthusiastic when Dare merely nodded. He’d schooled his features into something approaching cool when he reached Dare.

  “Hey.”

  Dare’s lips quirked up in his lopsided grin. “Hey.” His gaze swept over Sandy, bringing heat to Sandy’s cheeks.

  Was the guy gay? Bi? His attraction to Dare caught him off guard, and he almost wanted to laugh. One week in Portland with Uncle Phinney, and Sandy’s queer flag was already flying. A memory of Jade smiling flirtatiously darted in, and Sandy suddenly missed him. Jade would love Portland and approve wholeheartedly of Sandy flying his queer flag. “Um, this place must have good doughnuts. With the line and all.”

  “Yeah, it does. I wish we could’ve met sooner, but I have school until two thirty.”

  “College?”

  Dare snorted softly. “Naw. High school. Senior year, thank fuck.”

  “Yeah. I’m a senior too. Or… was, I guess.”

  “Was?”

  “I… I ran away from home earlier this month, and I’m staying with my uncle.”

  “Dude. Really?” Dare looked impressed. “That’s kinda hard-core.”

  “I guess.”

  The line moved forward, and they neared the door.

  “I don’t really have a home to run away from,” Dare said in a matter- of-fact tone.

  “What do you mean?”

  “My parents broke up when I was six. Dad moved to Eugene and got remarried. Mom’s had a ton of boyfriends, and she finally got with this guy a few years ago. Seemed like he was gonna stick, so we moved in with him.

  Next thing I know, Mom splits for California.”

  “Huh.”

  “Yeah. My parents kinda have a problem being in one place for long.”

  “What about the guy she was with?” They entered Voodoo, and Sandy inhaled the sugary smell.

  “Wallace? She left him too. I didn’t want to move to California or Eugene, so now I’m staying at Wallace’s. It ain’t home, just a place to stay for now.”

  Sandy nodded, feeling kind of sad for him. “I guess I’m lucky Uncle Phinney was here and could take me in.”

  “S’long as you like him.”

  “Oh yeah, I do.”

  “Cool. So lemme tell you about the doughnuts. There’s a maple-bacon one that’s killer.”

  Sandy’s eyes widened as they approached a display case filled with a huge variety of frosted doughnuts, crullers, and bars. “Wow. There’s… I’ve never seen so many kinds of doughnuts.”

  “Right? I can never decide what to get.”

  Sandy peered more closely at a frosted doughnut in the shape of a dick. “Um, dude, is that what I think it is?”

  Dare laughed. “Yep. They call it their Cock-N-Balls doughnut. We should get a few of those, for sure.”

>   “Um, totally.” So Dare wasn’t afraid of the D, it seemed, at least when it was in doughnut form.

  Due to their indecisiveness, Sandy and Dare ended up getting a boxful. As Dare exited Voodoo, pink box held firmly in his arms, he called back, “Wanna go to my place? Wallace works in a bar, so he’s not home till late.”

  “Sure.” Sandy pretended to be nonchalant. Dare wasn’t classically handsome, but his mouth was wide and generous, and Sandy found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss him. Then he told himself to forget it.

  Dare might not be into guys. And he smoked, which was kind of a turnoff.

  As Sandy was talking himself out of being attracted to him, Dare turned and gave him a real smile, not one of those sideways smirks. It transformed his whole face. Bam. So much for not being attracted.

  Sandy and Dare lounged side by side on the floor in Dare’s room, full of doughnut goodness. They had tackled the contents of the pink box like they were on a demolition mission and had eaten three huge doughnuts each before Sandy called defeat. He’d scoped out Dare’s room as they ate. Cluttered but clean, the room even sported a made bed, which pointed Dare out to be something of a neat freak. Who the hell made their beds these days? Sandy approved of the ton of books stacked on almost every surface.

  Dare also had an old-time stereo and a bunch of vinyl records, and Sandy planned to check them out once he could move. But Dare distracted him by brushing his hand against Sandy’s. When Sandy turned his head, Dare was inches away, watching him.

  Sandy felt himself flush. “What?” he blurted.

  “Why’d you run away?”

  Oh, that. “I couldn’t hack my parents trying to control me anymore.

  They found out stuff and got so upset they said I couldn’t go to University of Chicago, even though I got in. They were gonna send me to this religious college, and it was bullshit.” Sandy felt his anger rise, remembering Mom’s screechy voice and Dad coming after him.

  “Man, I hate that kind of parental bullshit. What’d they find out?”

  “That I was sexually active. Big scandal.” He held back on the bisexual thing, not sure why. Probably because it felt like a risk every time he came out. He hadn’t told many people—even Connor and Josh still didn’t know.

  Dare gave the soft snort Sandy was beginning to recognize as laughter.

  “What the fuck? Big deal. Oh wait, religious college? Are your parents like fundie Christians or something?”

  “Catholic. Hard-core. I went to Catholic schools.”

  “Ohhh.” Dare gave him a grin that seemed almost impish. “What’s a good little Catholic boy like you doing in a place like this?”

  “Escaping. Living. Being who I am. My parents couldn’t accept it, but that’s their problem.” Despite his bravado, Sandy felt a pang. He still couldn’t believe he’d left. He missed Rockford more than he’d thought he would.

  “Fuckin’ right, it’s their problem. I might not have my parents around, but at least I didn’t have to put up with that kind of crap.” Dare nudged his hand against Sandy’s. “It took balls to do what you did, dude.”

  Sandy swallowed. “Um, there’s one more thing they found out.”

  “What?”

  “I’m bi.” Sandy could feel his heart beating faster as he scanned Dare’s face for disgust, but Dare’s expression remained neutral. “And they were threatening to send me to a ‘pray away the gay’ camp this summer.”

  Dare shifted to his side and looked down at him. “I’m queer too. And your parents are assholes.” Then he lowered his head and gave Sandy a quick kiss, backing away before Sandy could respond.

  Sandy got only a fleeting impression of surprisingly soft lips and Dare’s scent of cigarettes and Juicy Fruit gum, mingled with doughnut aromas, before Dare pulled away, but it was enough to make his dick hard and set his heart pounding. He snuck a glance at Dare, who had sat up and rested his chin on his knees with his arms wrapped around his legs. Sandy didn’t know what the heck was happening, and he knew even less how to talk to Dare about it.

  Sandy stole another look at Dare. Crap. Words failed him. He blamed it on his uptight upbringing. Mom was queen of the passive-aggressive martyr types. The meanings of her silences could fill a dictionary. Dad was the complete opposite, with his yelling and fists. And the kids he knew didn’t talk—not about feelings or any of that jazz. Brittany had been the best at discussing this crap, probably because she didn’t really care. Jade would’ve talked about it, because he was open about everything. But they’d never had a chance in the days after their tryst. They hadn’t socialized outside of school, so they’d never exchanged phone numbers. Then a few weeks later, things had blown up at home and Sandy was out of there.

  So Sandy didn’t think he should be to blame for not knowing what to say in this situation. Modeling himself on Dare’s behavior, he sat up and adopted a similar pose. They stared across the room in silence for the longest time. Then Dare got up and opened his window, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. Sandy leaned over to poke through the almost-empty doughnut box for lack of anything better to do.

  “What kind of music do you like?”

  The sudden question caused Sandy to drop the doughnut he’d taken hold of. “Um, all kinds. You’ve got a bunch of vinyl, huh?” State the obvious, Nixon.

  “Yeah. Wallace was gonna get rid of his turntable, so I took it. Been having fun finding old records to play on it.” Dare sucked in another drag, blew the smoke out the window, then stubbed out his cigarette.

  “What music are you into?”

  “Lots. Lemme play you something I found. You ever heard of Nina Simone?”

  “I’ve heard the name, but I don’t think I’ve ever listened to her.”

  Dare put on a record, and a low, husky, and totally unique female voice sang about finding a new day and a new dawn and feeling good. It stirred something in Sandy.

  “What’d you think?” Dare asked, removing the needle from the record.

  “It was cool. Made me think about running away and, like, making a new life for myself.”

  “Yeah.”

  Sandy’s phone buzzed. “Crap, it’s Uncle Phinney wanting to know where I am. I gotta go.”

  “Okay. Take the rest of the doughnuts, if you want.”

  “Dude, no. You keep ’em.”

  Dare nodded and walked with Sandy down the hall and to the front door. They stood facing each other. Awkward silence reigned. “Uh, thanks for coming over.”

  “Thanks for having me.” That sounded stupid and slightly suggestive.

  “Um, see you around, I guess.”

  Dare’s face betrayed nothing. “Yeah. Hit me up next time you’re going to Burnside.”

  “Sure. Bye.”

  Sandy walked down the front path to the sidewalk, torn between disappointment and anticipation.

  Dare-Land—Going All the Way

  “I’m telling you, this dude Robertson Davies is an awesome writer. I can’t explain his books—they’re kinda weird—but you gotta read them.”

  Dare drank his Americano and glanced around at the scene in the coffee shop at Powell’s City of Books.

  “Cool.” Sandy pulled out his phone and hit Notes. “Robertson Dav—

  Davis?” he asked, tapping away.

  “No, dude, Davies.” Dare spelled out the name. “You can borrow mine if you want. See if you like ’em.”

  “Sure.”

  Sandy picked up his mocha to hide the smile that had appeared at the idea of borrowing stuff from Dare. Borrowing things implied they had some kind of a future. Some kind of future? That sounded hokey. He adjusted the thought to: We’re friends. And friends continued on with each other. Like Sandy and Josh. Josh had helped him run away. He’d never told a soul during the planning stages and still hadn’t squealed about where Sandy was now, despite being grilled by both Sandy’s parents and his own—plus Mr. Smith, their high school principal, and Father Gilhooly.

  Sandy pulled himself
away from thoughts about Rockford, but not before thinking with a sigh about his large book collection, which he’d probably never see again. “I had a ton of books at home, but I only brought a few with me.”

  “So you’ll replace ’em all here.”

  Sandy’s chest buzzed with that warmth that often happened when he was with Dare. Dare seemed confident that Sandy was going to stay around long enough to fill a bookshelf. Not even a shadow of a doubt. “Yeah. I think I’ll start today.” Powell’s had floors and floors of books. He was jealous Uncle Phinney got to work here, but then remembered his good news. “Did I tell you that this friend of my uncle’s might be able to get me a job here?

  Probably starting in the fall. And his other friend owns a coffee place and said I could fill in some shifts soon.”

  “Awesome.”

  “Not quite as awesome as your job, but pretty good.”

  Dare worked part-time in a record store called Spins in northeast Portland. He’d been in there so many times looking for vinyl that the owner had taken a liking to him, and when a longtime employee quit, he’d offered the job to Dare. Sandy visited him there as much as he could without seeming like a stalker. He liked browsing through records and talking about them with Dare.

  In fact, he liked doing anything with Dare. They met up at the skatepark a lot, although the skills Dare and the regulars possessed went far beyond Sandy’s. But he enjoyed the easy camaraderie among the skaters as they hung out and watched each other perform. And Dare had introduced Sandy to the thrift stores on Hawthorne. They’d spent a few afternoons trying on clothes, the more outrageous, the better.

  Sandy sometimes wondered when Dare studied for his classes. He seemed to be out of the house he shared with Wallace more than he was in it. Dare didn’t appear worried about it, though. He had another month until graduation, and he’d already told Sandy he didn’t plan to go to college, at least not right away.