"But I've heard," Kyle insisted, "that alcoholism runs in families."

Jason rested his spoon and gave Kyle a cold stare across the table. "I'm not my dad, okay?" Kyle nodded and said softly, "Okay."

Nelson returned on the path from the bathhouse, carrying his toiletry kit in one hand while finishing a cigarette with the other.

"Want some cereal?" Kyle asked.

"God, no! I feel like a vulture is tearing out my stomach."

He raised the trash can lid to stub out his cigarette butt. "Hey, what's my rum-?" He puled out the empty bottle and stared through the glass, obviously bewildered.

Kyle braced himself on the picnic table. "I poured it out."

Nelson stared at him openmouthed. "Do you know how much trouble I went through for this? It wasn't yours to throw out. Why'd you do that?" Kyle's neck grew warm. "Because I'm not going to have you getting drunk every night."

"I wasn't drunk."

"Yeah, you were. You should've told me you were bringing alcohol so we could discuss it."

"And you"-Nelson tossed the bottle back into the trash can-"should've told me before you poured my rum out." He slammed the metal lid down. "I can't believe you. That is so controling!"

Kyle bit into his lip, suddenly unsure. What had prompted him to throw out something that wasn't his? He'd never acted that way before. But then he'd never watched his best friend get drunk and put the make on his boyfriend, either.

As Nelson stormed toward the car, fuming and cursing, Kyle glanced at Jason, looking for help. But Jason merely shrugged. "Once my mom poured every bottle of my dad's booze down the toilet. And you know what? It didn't solve anything."

Kyle gazed across the table at the boy he'd spent the night holding in his arms. So what if Nelson had tried to put the make on him? Hadn't Jason quite plainly rebuffed his advances? And wasn't the whole notion of Nelson actualy being able to score with Jason kind of ridiculous?

Kyle stirred his spoon in his soggy bowl of cereal, feeling pretty foolish.

chapter 14.

Jason took down their tent while Kyle apologized to Nelson for pouring out his rum. "I'm sorry, okay?" Jason had thought Kyle was acting crazy dumping out the booze, but the whole evening before had been crazy, with Nelson teling him he had an awesome body and wanting to get naked.

"Here." Jason handed Nelson a Coke as they packed up the car. "It'l help settle your stomach."

"Thanks," Nelson grumbled. "You want to drive? I'm too wiped." He tossed Jason the keys. "Just don't crash it, okay?" As they climbed into the car, Jason bumped his knees on the steering column and had to slide the seat back to adjust for the height difference. He stood about half a foot taler than Nelson. Kyle hopped in front beside him, while Nelson climbed in back.

Jason liked being behind the wheel. He enjoyed driving and wished he had his own car. After adjusting the mirrors, he puled out of the campsite. As he drove past the basketbal court, he glanced at Nelson in the rearview. "Hey, why wouldn't you shoot hoops with me?"

"I told you," Nelson snapped. "I don't play."

"But why not?"

"You realy want to know?"

"Yeah." Jason nodded.

"Because it reminds me how much I hate ignoranus jocks."

Kyle shifted in his seat. "It's ignor amus, not ignoranus."

"No," Nelson insisted. "I mean ignor anus. They're not only ignorant, they're also assholes." Jason felt his body tense. Was Nelson sideswiping him?

"Al through school," Nelson continued, "whenever teams got chosen for some stupid game, I was always, always, always picked last. The jocks would say, 'I don't want him. You take him. He plays like a girl.' And after someone finaly had to take me, they caled me homo and faggot the entire game. And do you think any teachers ever stood up for me?" He smirked into the rearview at Jason. "I've got so many cheery memories of sports. Does that answer your question?"

"Yeah," Jason said quietly.

"I'm going to sleep," Nelson announced, laying down in the backseat. "Wake me when we get somewhere." As they puled onto I-81, Jason thought about what Nelson had said. He felt a little guilty recaling the many times in his own gym classes when he'd been elected team captain and picked teams. Naturaly, he'd dreaded picking the Nelson-types. After al, wasn't the object of the game to win? Who wanted someone on the team who'd only help them lose? Jason remembered the name-caling, but didn't every boy get caled names? Even he had. In his case it had made him work harder to prove he wasn't gay. Now as he looked back, it al seemed so confusing.

"You okay?" Kyle asked from across the car seat.

"Yeah," Jason replied. He laid his palm next to Kyle and Kyle rested his own hand in it. As he tenderly stroked Kyle's fingers, Jason breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank God high school was over.

A couple of hours later they approached the Tennessee border. Nelson sat up, wiping his eyes. "Where are we?" He yawned.

"About to cross into Tennessee."

"Woo-hoo!" Nelson reached forward across Jason and tooted the horn as they crossed the state line. Then he started searching the backseat. "Hey, do you guys see my cel phone up there?"

"No," Kyle replied. "Where did you put it?"

"I'm not sure." Nelson's brow furrowed. "This morning I took it to the bathhouse and caled my mom...."

"Did you bring it back?" Kyle asked.

"Oh my God!" Nelson pressed a hand to his forehead. "I think it's in the pocket of my sweatshirt. I must've left it hanging on the toilet stal door."

"Nelson!" Kyle exclaimed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes! I feel so stupid." Nelson banged his head against the back of Kyle's seat. "I can't believe I did that." Jason glowered into the rearview at Nelson. "Dude, we've driven two hours already."

"Crap," Nelson muttered, shaking a cigarette from his pack.

"Wel," Kyle grumbled. "We've got to go back for it."

Jason flicked the blinker on and turned around at the next exit, no longer feeling so guilty for the times he hadn't picked any pain-in-the-ass Nelsons for his teams.

During the return drive Nelson kept amazingly quiet in the backseat, probably because he realized Jason and Kyle were too annoyed to talk to him. Two wasted hours later, they arrived at the campground.

Jason parked beside the bathhouse and Nelson raced inside. A moment later he returned empty-handed. No red sweatshirt. No phone. Only a peeved look on his face.

"Someone must've taken it. They're probably having a long-distance free-for-al."

"Let's ask at the office," Kyle suggested. "Maybe someone turned it in."

But at the registration desk, no one had turned in a red hooded sweatshirt or a cel phone.

"Are you sure that's where you left it?" Jason asked.

"You know," Kyle said, "we should check the trunk."

Jason opened the trunk. In a corner, wedged between Nelson's sleeping bag and duffle, was his sweatshirt, and inside the pocket, his cel.

Nelson clenched his teeth into a false grin. "Oops."

Jason gritted his teeth in turn. "That'l be four hours we wasted."

"Sorry?" Nelson whispered, slinking into the backseat. Once again Jason puled out of the campground.

In order not to waste any more time, they opted for a McDonald's drive-through for lunch. Then they continued down I-81 to I-4O, past fireworks stands, stores seling coon-skin caps, and mountains blanketed with kudzu.

Kyle read a book caled On the Road by Jack Kerouac while Jason played CDs he'd brought (mostly hip-hop) and let his mind wander. That was part of what he loved about highway driving: letting his mind run free as the countryside drifted past.

A lot of Jason's thoughts focused on Kyle. It felt great to be with him and sleep beside him, though Jason wished he could've done more than just lie with his arm around him. They'd better find some way to be alone together during this trip or the sexual tension was going to drive him crazy.

Their goal for that evening was some weird mountain place that Nelson had insisted on during the final days of plotting their route.

"I e-mailed them and they said we could camp for just ten bucks," he'd told Kyle and Jason. "It's like a sanctuary for gay and lesbian people." Jason didn't know what Nelson meant by "sanctuary," but it sounded weird.

They would've made it there wel before dusk, if not for Nelson's cel-phone-in-trunk delay. Instead they were stil an hour away when it started getting dark. As Jason turned on the car lights, he glanced down at the gas gauge and realized he hadn't been paying attention. It was nearly at E.

He immediately began watching for a green exit sign. Fortunately, one soon appeared on the horizon and Jason flicked his blinker on.

"Where are you going?" Kyle asked, closing his book.

"We need gas." Jason slowed to a stop as they reached the end of the exit ramp, where a two-lane road stretched toward hils in both directions.

"I don't see any station," Nelson said. "Maybe we should try the next exit. Aren't we almost near the sanctuary turnoff?"

"We don't have enough gas," Jason informed them.

Kyle looked over his shoulder at the gauge. "It's empty."

"That's what I said," Jason told him. "That's why we need to look for a station."

"But there's nothing out here," Nelson complained, lighting up a cigarette.

Jason glared at him and roled down his window, turning left onto the narrow road. "There's got to be one nearby." They drove past tobacco fields and trailers, rusting cars and winding creeks, but found no gas station. Meanwhile, the sky grew darker as night fel.

"Jason?" Kyle rested a hand on his shoulder. "I think we should go back to the highway." Jason glanced down at the gas gauge, now wel below the E mark. "I don't think we have enough gas."

"Wel, there's plenty of gas out here," Nelson said sarcasticaly.

Around the next bend, the headlights iluminated an old bearded man standing beside a roadside mailbox, holding what looked like a shotgun.

"Jason?" Kyle squeezed his shoulder more insistently. "Can we go back? Please? "

"Oh my God!" Nelson said, exhaling a stream of smoke. "I saw a movie like this once, where people lay on the road and when you stopped to help them, they got up and ate you."

Jason grimaced into the rearview and noticed a pair of headlights approaching from behind.

"Oh my God!" Nelson exclaimed again, turning to folow Jason's gaze. "It's a pickup truck. What if they're rednecks? Or zombies?"

"Would you shut up?" Jason said as the truck loomed closer and began blaring its horn.

"You'd better let them pass," Kyle urged.

Jason gripped the steering wheel. "They've got room."

"Then why are they beeping at us?" Nelson asked as the truck drew nearer.

"Probably," Jason snapped, "because of your stupid rainbow flag."

"Jason, can you just pul over?" Kyle insisted. "Please? "

"You crazy?" Jason argued. "I'm not stopping."

But as he spoke, the car coughed and sputtered. The gas pedal gave out beneath his foot, and he had no choice but to turn the wheel toward the road shoulder.

"That's it. We're out of gas."

The car bounced and coasted to a stop, the pickup puling up behind them.

Nelson stared out the back window at the headlights. "Oh my God!" he screamed and grinned. "We're al going to die! We're going to die!"

"That's not funny," Kyle told him. "Lock your doors."

But Jason popped open his lock. "I'l handle this."

"No, don't!" Kyle reached for his arm but Jason stepped outside. Nelson climbed out after him.

Jason shielded his eyes from the headlight beams and braced himself for a confrontation. But as two figures emerged from the truck cab into the headlights, Jason tried to make sense of what he saw.

One guy looked to be in his early twenties. He was tal, good-looking, with a brown goatee, and ... were those goat horns sticking out of his head? He reminded Jason of some mythological goat boy, with a pelt skirt, leather sandals, and a panpipe dangling from his neck.

The guy smiling beside him was equaly young, but shorter, a little plump, and ... dressed as a bug? Wire antennae with Styrofoam bals at the ends were sticking out of his head. He wore black polka-dot boxers with combat boots and a T-shirt that read: QUEEN OF THE UNIVERSE.

This is totally bizarre, Jason thought. Who the heck were these freaks? And what were they doing out here?