by Kevin Craig
I hate my life.
Chapter 3 — Troy Sinclair
When I woke up this morning, I couldn’t even. I mean, Spain. I’m going to Spain. Like, in five hours I will be on the plane. On it. Going to Spain. Madrid, to be exact. Wow. This is a dream come true. I can’t even breathe, I’m so excited!
The only thing that would be better is if Robbie Tremont suddenly came out of the closet and asked me to prom. What? It could happen. If wishes were kisses… well, he’d be covered in them by now. It’ll never happen. He’s as straight as a board.
The Camino de Santiago will have to do. Who knew when I pulled off that phenomenally stupid meltdown that my punishment would be a walk on the Camino? The Way? I only watched that movie a dozen times, imagining myself hiking the amazing pilgrimage route each time. If I had known this diversion program existed, I would have begun my accidental life of crime a lot sooner. Blowing a gasket certainly paid off this time.
“Troy.” Dad comes to my door and waits for me to invite him in. My parents are all about boundaries. “Mind if I have a little talk with you while you finish packing?”
“Veuillez entrer, mon père,” I say.
“Shouldn’t you be honing your Spanish and Galician?” He sits on the bed. “French, Troy? Really?”
“Mi error. Introduzca.”
“Better.” Everything is a teaching moment with my parents.
“I’m so excited, I can hardly breathe.”
“I know, sweetie. Remember, though, this is a punishment. Keep that in mind. Your mother and I want you to have the time of your life. We really do. But it’s a little difficult seeing you treat this as a reward. Bad actions aren’t rewarded, no matter the logic or reasoning behind them. This trip is a great opportunity for you. I hope you use it to reflect upon what you’ve done. You can’t allow other people to influence you into bad choices, Troy.”
“I know. And I will.” I feel the blush enter my cheeks. It’s true. I have been a bad boy. Very bad. “Almost ready. Where’s Mom?”
“She’s just walking Winston,” he says. He’s squirming a bit, and I get a bad feeling. He has something to say to me and he’s finding it difficult to begin. I sense a lecture coming on. “I wanted some time alone with you, anyway. I wanted to go over a few ground rules.”
“Dad,” I say. Really!? He’s going to attempt to micromanage me from across the Atlantic. “I made one mistake. You know I’m not stupid. I’m not gonna rob any banks while I’m there or beat up any old ladies.”
“Ha. No, no. I have every faith in you, Troy. Seriously, I do. And in all honesty, I can’t even be all that angry with you for what you did do to get to this place. I just… I wanted to talk to you about, you know… other stuff.”
My own father attempts to kill me with embarrassment. Out of nowhere, he pulls out a stack of condoms. It’s an eerie and offensive display of magic. He allows the strip to unfold until it dangles a good three feet from his hand. Not just a couple of condoms for this guy. No, no. Troy Sinclair, in fact, needs a truckload of them. Oh. My. God. I have to put up with this sort of thing every day. My parents are off the charts and out of their trees.
“Dad,” I say, in my shrieky I can’t believe you’re doing this to me voice. “Oh my God. Please put those away.”
“No. Your mother and I had a talk. We think it’s only right that you pack protection for this trip. You never know what’s going to happen and you don’t want to be caught without protection.”
They were bad enough in the before I came out days. Now, they’re unbearable. All they talk about is safe sex and the fact that homosexuals can adopt. Talk about focus. Can’t I have normal don’t want to talk about it parents like other gays?
“Dad,” I begin, shoving my first aid kit into a side pocket in my backpack. “I promise you; I will not need those. I refuse to take them.”
“Can you please humor an old man? I’ve been there. Young and foolish and on a road trip. It gets wild in Europe. Just take them. You don’t have to use them. Just have them on you. It will make both your mother and I happy. You’ll actually be saving me. Because you have no idea how happy it would make her to know that you’re holding.”
“Holding? Really? How very drug culture of you.”
I shake my head and sigh, a sure sign of defeat. Gah. Dad holds out the condoms, then folds them into a single pile before attempting to hand them to me.
“Just stick them in that pocket there, would you? If I don’t have to touch them, it’ll be less painful.”
“Oh, Troy, you’re like an old woman sometimes. I swear. They’re just rubbers.”
“Daaaad.”
He laughs, stashes the condoms in the pocket I pointed to, and leaves me alone to feel the weight of my extreme shame. As if I’m gonna traipse across Spain having sex with every Pablo, Sergio, and Carlos I come across. Are those Spanish names?
From downstairs, I hear Mom return with Winston. Before she even has the door closed, I hear Winston crash full-tilt-boogie up the stairs. I’m gonna miss him. I told Avery he better give him extra love while I’m gone. As usual, I only got a few whatevers and a couple yeahs during that whole conversation. And one big NO when I asked Avery to sleep in my bed with Winston because it would make Winston less sad. The no came with a “You must think you’re pretty special. Winston won’t give a crap, bro.”
This is what I live with: hysterically politically correct parents who are grooming me to be the vehicle for their impending grandparenthood, and a total douchenozzle brother. I’m sometimes ashamed to share a face with him.
Winston barrels into my room and bolts onto my bed. Nobody tells Winston he can’t get up on the furniture. He’s a golden retriever lapdog. I scoot in beside him and give him a big body hug. Winston is my people. He gets me. He kept my secret back when I still thought I had a secret to keep and a need to keep it.
“I’m gonna miss you, boy,” I whisper into his ear as I squeeze harder and inhale his damp earthy Backyard-Winston smell. I love him.
“Troyboy,” Mom calls from the front hall. “Time to go. Avery, come get ready to say goodbye to your brother. You’re coming to the airport with us.”
“Coming.” I hear Avery in his bedroom next door. He doesn’t even sound annoyed, which is pretty miraculous. Then he stops at my door before heading downstairs. “Hey, douche. Don’t forget your nightlight. How you gonna hide the fact you’re afraid of the dark from everyone? That’s gonna be a tricky one in a hostel.”
“Do me a favor and shut it,” I say. Great comeback. I throw my pillow at him, but he’s already gone.
Well, this is it. I’m leaving for frigging Spain. I get off the bed, pick up my backpack, and strap it over one shoulder. I look around the room in a panic. But if I forgot anything, too bad. I’m only gone for a week and a half.
“Come on, boy,” I say to Winston. He jumps down, and together we make the long walk to the front door. He already knows I’m leaving him. He’s been weird for a couple of days now. Dogs know. Poor Winston has already formed a hate relationship with my backpack. I’m sure I’ll agree with his judgment once I carry it across Spain, but right now I’m too excited.
At the door, I break down and cry for the first time. Kissing Winston’s furry face, I try to regain my composure before I have to sit beside my judge and jury in the backseat. Avery thinks everyone should show the same amount of emotion he shows: exactly zero. If he notices I’ve been crying, he’ll call me out on it.
“Bye, boy,” I say one last time. “Be good. Okay. Avery’s a jerk, but if you need a hug, I’m sure he’ll give it to you. Love you, my good boy.”
I swear to God, Winston moans. And in the moan, I hear, “How can you leave me here alone with these people?”
Chapter 4 — Diego Nelson
Moms. She totally lost it when I had to go through the gate and leave her behind. For som
eone who said she wasn’t going to lose it, she had an epic meltdown. She acted like I was seven and I wouldn’t be able to go through security on my own.
I kind of wish my abuelita was able to make it today. I felt awful leaving Moms standing there all alone. Abuelita would have known the right words to comfort her. She always does.
Moms didn’t like that Gilbert wasn’t waiting, ready to hold my hand and walk me through the rest of the airport. I don’t know what she thought was going to happen, like the dude would walk me through big, bad customs or something.
She nearly killed me when she hugged me too. It felt good, though, despite the fact everybody in the entire airport turned to look at us when she began to wail.
Turns out Customs is kinda scary. Would have been nice to go through with someone else. They made me feel like a thug. Freaky being pulled aside with everyone else looking as they walked on through. I had to stand in a body scan machine. Terminator shit.
Anyway, I’m walking toward my gate. You know how, when you try to look like you know what you’re doing and you don’t, you keep making these foolish moves that tell the entire world you’re new? Yeah, well… that. I almost died on the moving walkway. Long story.
I can see Gilbert before I get there. He looks like a total dork. No change there. He’s such a hippie. I don’t know how he convinced the authorities he could supervise children. He looks like he can’t even dress himself.
“Diego,” he says while I’m still about six miles away. He says it like we’re lifelong friends. His face breaks into this crazy, annoying smile. “You’re here. Good to see you. You must be so excited!”
His backpack is on the floor beside him, and he’s kind of on his tiptoes, bouncing around like he can’t wait for our adventure to begin. I can tell by the looks on the faces of the two kids sitting behind him that they’re fellow inmates. They look the way I feel.
“Hey,” I say as I finally reach Gilbert. He holds his hand out, and I take it. He practically shakes my hand right off my arm.
“We’re here,” he says. If he smiles like this for the rest of the trip, I may eventually pop him one. “Diego, meet two of your fellow peregrinos, Shania and Manfred. Guys, meet Diego.”
His enthusiasm is not infectious. At all.
“Ha. Like the Twain chick.” I can tell right away that was the worst thing I could have said. This girl is hot. But in a bad girl way: long blonde hair, too much makeup she doesn’t even need. She’s trying to be edgy, but she looks like one of those spoiled rich kids I see at the mall. I probably shouldn’t mess with her before I even know her.
“Um, no,” she says. She glances up from her phone screen, just long enough to sneer at me. “Not at all like the Twain chick. Nothing like the Twain chick, in fact.”
“Oops. Sorry. Hi, guys.” Too late. I can tell I already lost Twain. I mean Shania. “Hey, Manfred.”
I will not laugh at his name. I will not laugh at his name.
“Please. Call me Manny. Everybody does.” He stands and offers his hand. A much better name than Manfred. A slightly warmer greeting than hot angry girl’s. “Hey, Diego.”
I shake his hand, move to the free chair beside him, and plop myself down.
“Hey, man. We’re shaping up to be the most badass Breakfast Club ever.” I think, Latino hood, sport jock, and angry, white, poor little rich girl. I don’t say it out loud. Oh, and our overly-excited hipster sidekick who is nothing like the dweeb vice-principal in the movie. I wonder who else is going to show up. We’re still missing the trippy, messed-up girl and the mad genius computer nerd.
“What’s that?” Shania asks.
“What’s what?” I ask.
“The Breakfast Club?”
I look at her like she’s crazy, because, seriously, she must be. Just as I open my mouth to rip her a new one, Manny steps in.
“Wait.” He leans forward in his chair with a comically shocked expression. “You never heard of The Breakfast Club? What planet? That’s a sad life you’re living. Google is—”
“—your friend,” I say, finishing his sentence. “Best angsty teen movie ever.” We high-five. I’m gonna like this Manny guy.
“Whatever,” Shania says. She rolls her eyes.
“Only,” Manny says. His face lights up as he has an aha moment. “We’re the Camino Club.”
“Nice one.” That deserves another high five.
“Where’s the rest, though,” Manny says. “Because you don’t look like a jock, and I’m pretty sure you’re no genius.”
“Nice,” I say. But he’s laughing, just ribbing me. “I took you for the jock?”
“So, anyway,” Gilbert says. “We’re waiting for four more. Maybe you’ll find your genius among them. We’re on two flights. You three are with me. My lovely co-leader, Meagan, will have the other three kids.”
“Two cops for six juvenile delinquents? That sounds a bit dangerous. You sure you can handle us?”
“We’re not cops, Shania. We’re both highly trained. We’re stealth ninja warriors. But we are not cops. Nothing you can do can distract us from the focus of the mission. Don’t even try me.”
He says this all smiles and joking, but something tells me he’d tase our asses in a second if he had to. He’s not messing around.
“Not like we could do anything. What are we gonna do, asshole? Walk away?” She laughs when she says this, but it’s not a haha laugh. More like an I hate you laugh. This girl must have been born hostile.
It actually makes me a little sad when I see Gilbert deflate a bit. She doesn’t have to be so nasty. It’s not his fault.
“Just wanted to check.” Gilbert is doing his best to bring himself back to his previous level of excitement. Shania, it seems, might be really good at bursting balloons. “Did everyone get their peregrino packages? Peregrino means pilgrim. Your patches? Your guidebooks? Your credencials?”
“Yep,” I say. “I did.” I tap the patch on the back of my backpack, which sits at my feet. It has a scallop shell and a Canadian flag on it. My abuelita helped me to stitch it in place.
“What’s a credencial?” Shania says.
“Got it,” Manny says. He holds up his own credencial, which he’s been flipping through.
“Camino passport,” Gilbert says to Shania. “This little green booklet. For your stamps.”
“Oh, right. Yep. It’s in my bag. You’ll have to believe me, because I’m not digging it out.” She folds her arms and rests back against her seat.
“No problem,” Gil says. “As long as you all have them. You’ll need them for the journey. Now, on to a few ground rules. Phones away. I need your full attention.”
Shania moans and slumps in her seat.
“Sorry, princess,” Gil says. I snicker and look to Manny, who also smiles. “You all heard the drill, how important it is to pass this program. It’s the only way you get to walk away clean on the other side. The rules include daily journal entries, completing the walk all the way to Santiago de Compostela without breaking any laws, and, of course, one solid mandatory hour of check-in and discussion every day while we’re out there.”
“So much fun,” Shania says. “I can’t wait.”
“Attitude, I should remind you, is also important. Meagan and I don’t need any bad attitude during our group discussions. It’s unproductive.
“Now, these discussion periods will be different every day. Some days we’ll have them while we walk, some days at the breakfast table, and others we’ll have at the end of our walks at that day’s albergue. It will depend on us all being together and being able to find space to go off and be alone together.
“Because it’s also important that we have privacy. There’s going to be some pretty frank discussion happening. You’ve all been given an incredible opportunity to come away from this relatively unscathed. A new lease on life, if you will.
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br /> “But it requires your complete cooperation. Do you understand this part? How integral your cooperation is with every stage of this program?”
Gilbert asks this last question of all of us, but stops his gaze directly on Shania.
“Yes, sir,” Manny says. “Loud and clear.”
“Absolutely,” I say.
“You’re the boss-man,” Shania says. “Are we done here?”
“We’re just getting started, Shania,” Gilbert says. “I hope you don’t have any crazy ideas about testing us. That would be a bad move on your part.”
“Yes, sir. No, sir,” Shania says. She gives him a great big phony smile. This should be interesting.
We sit quietly. I watch the departure board and notice that our flight leaves in forty minutes. My first time flying. I wish I wasn’t so scared, but I am. I hope I sit next to Manny. He seems less insane than Shania.
“Your first time?” Manny asks. He sounds a bit shaky. “Because it’s my first. How do they even keep those things in the air? They’re big steel bullets with wings. Something that big ain’t supposed to leave the ground. I don’t get it, man.”
Okay, so maybe he’s a bit insane. At least he’s not grumpy.
“Yeah. First time. And I agree. It’s beyond freaky. At least someone knows what they’re doing, though, right?” It seems like I’m consoling him. Which kinda makes me feel better about it myself.
“Wait,” Shania butts in. She leans forward in her chair so she can look at both of us. “You mean neither of you girls have ever been on a plane before? Like, ever? What the fu—”
“Words!” Gilbert interrupts. “Same rules apply here as in school. No swearing. Like I said, you need to pass this program in order to avoid detention, Shania… not just show up. I’d step off the cursing if I were you.”
Yep. I knew he was badass. Mr. Nice Guy is gonna work us like a drill sergeant. I’m thinking Twain brings out the worst in him.
