Rainbow Road (7 page)

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?

“We saw your rainbow flag,” Goat Guy said, and Bug Dude smiled even wider. “You guys headed to the sanctuary?”
chapter 15

Nelson had first learned about the Radical Faerie sanctuary while surfing the Web one weekend. He immediately felt drawn to the images of guys living in the forest and wearing zany outfits: cheerleader skirts and military boots, women’s wigs and cowboy chaps, or … barely anything at al.

And he identified with one description of the loosely knit group: “an anti-mainstream radical fringe of free-spirited queers.” How like Nelson was
that
?

“You must be Faeries!” he now yeled excitedly at the guys who’d emerged from the pickup truck along this backwoods road.

“Yeah.” The realy cute one in the pelt gave Nelson a sexy smile. “This is Lady-Bugger and I’m Horn-Boy.” He raised the panpipe dangling from his neck and blew a few notes while Lady-Bugger danced in the headlight beams, his cape flaring behind him.

The Faerie guys seemed exactly like Nelson had fantasized: crazy, wild, and cute. Lady-Bugger reached his arm out to swing Nelson, and he gladly joined in. “Hey, I’m Nelson and this is …”

He turned to see Jason staring warily, like the proverbial deer frozen in headlights. “This is Jason. We ran out of gas. Are you guys from the sanctuary?”

“Yeah, that’s where we’re headed,” Horn-Boy said, ending his panpipe tune. “We’ve got gas. Out here we always carry a ful can in the truck.”

“Oh look, there’s a third one!” Lady-Bugger waved and caled “Yoo-hoo!” as Kyle emerged from the car, stepping up behind Jason.

“This is Kyle,” Nelson said, and told Kyle, “These guys are from the sanctuary.”

“Um, hi.” Kyle extended his hand a little nervously.

Why is he nervous?
Nelson wondered. These guys were awesome, especialy supercute Horn-Boy.

After shaking hands with Kyle, the two Faeries searched the truck for the gas can.

Jason puled Nelson over into a huddle with him and Kyle.

“Dude,” he whispered to Nelson. “These guys are freaks. I’m not going to that place.” Kyle nodded in agreement. “Maybe we should go on to Nashvile instead.”

“They’re not freaks,” Nelson whispered back. “They’re just gay people like us.”

Jason roled his eyes. “Like
you
, maybe. I’m not going with them.”

“Here you are.” Horn-Boy brought the gas can to Jason.

While they poured it in, Nelson puled Kyle aside. “Would you chil your boyfriend, please? I want to see this place.” Kyle glanced over at Lady-Bugger flapping his cape mothlike in front of the headlights. “Are you sure these guys are safe?”

“Kyle, they’re
Faeries
. What’s the worst that can happen? They tie us up and perm our hair?” Kyle didn’t laugh. His eyes shifted among Horn-Boy, Lady-Bugger, Jason, and back to Nelson before he finaly said, “Okay, I’l talk to him.” Nelson decided not to take any chances. When Jason finished pouring the gas and Horn-Boy said, “So, are you guys going to folow us?” Nelson told him, “Yeah, but can I ride with you?”

“Dude!” Jason hissed, but Nelson was already climbing into the truck cab, teling Horn-Boy, “Those horns are so cool.” He took a seat between the two guys and watched to make sure Kyle and Jason folowed behind. As the pickup roled down moonlit valeys and wound around blue hils, Lady-Bugger and Horn-Boy explained how Faeries existed al over the world, some in live-in communities like the sanctuary. Nelson listened eagerly, imagining a place where no one hassled you for being crazily queer, a place where you could be totaly yourself.

After a while Lady-Bugger turned down a dirt road. Each time the truck bounced, Horn-Boy’s leg gently bumped Nelson’s knee and Nelson let it stay there. The touch was the biggest thril Nelson had gotten since Jeremy. In fact, Horn-Boy’s little goatee reminded him of Jeremy’s and how the hairs had tickled when they kissed.

“So … like … are you two a couple?” Nelson asked.

Horn-Boy and Lady-Bugger gazed across Nelson at each other. Then Lady-Bugger winked at Nelson. “Mostly.” Horn-Boy folowed with a mischievous grin, which looked even more impish with the horns atop his head. “We have an open relationship.”

“Wow,” Nelson said. He realized he sounded like a kid, but he’d never met anyone in an open relationship.

A lantern appeared on the dark road ahead of them, iluminating someone in white face paint and a shimmering red kimono. The figure gave a silent bow, welcoming them into a parking area, and Lady-Bugger explained, “That’s Yoko Kim-Ono.” Jason parked Nelson’s car alongside the truck, while Nelson climbed from the cab to see a half-dozen guys, ranging in age from late teens to sixties, giggling and chattering.

“Wel, hey, cuties,” said one in a pink miniskirt and cowboy boots.

“Welcome to Faerie Land,” said another in overals and high heels.

Nelson’s skin tingled as if electrified. Ever since he was little, he’d loved to dress up, whether as a pirate, a sheik, or in his mom’s gowns and heels.

“Isn’t this place great?” He spun around excitedly to Kyle and Jason, only to find them pressed so nervously together they almost looked like conjoined twins.

“You guys want to find something to wear?” Horn-Boy asked, and led the boys past log cabin homes to a barn filed with dresses, skirts, and shoes. While Kyle and Jason watched, Horn-Boy held a black leather vest up to Nelson. “Take your shirt off and try this on.” Nelson hesitated to remove his shirt, confiding in a smal voice, “My chest is too skinny.”

“Naw!” Horn-Boy winked and smiled. “Skinny guys are cute.” He persuaded Nelson and puled him in front of a mirror. “See? You look great. Now how about a skirt?”

Nelson picked out a red pleated plaid skirt, monogrammed IMMACULATE CONCEPTION GIRLS’ SCHOOL, while Jason roled his eyes, crossed his arms, and mumbled something in Kyle’s ear.

“Stop being such goobers,” Nelson scolded them. “Have some fun! Pick something out.” He convinced Kyle to wear a ruffled blue tuxedo shirt (“Very sexy!”) but couldn’t budge Jason into anything, not even a little white sailor’s cap that would’ve looked adorable on his dark curly hair.

“You guys hungry?” Horn-Boy asked, casualy taking Nelson’s hand. “Let’s go eat.” That marked the first time a guy had held Nelson’s hand since Jeremy, though he tried not to show it. He didn’t want to seem too eager. Besides, he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the “open relationship” thing.

Horn-Boy guided them to a clapboard house emanating music, with a sign on the door: WORK-FREE DRUG PLACE.

Inside, the rooms glowed in candlelight. Faerie shadows danced across the wals, cast by a crowd of uniquely dressed guys and women. Jason’s eyes grew wide, as if in disbelief, whereas Kyle looked more curious.

At a buffet heaped with bowls of roasted tofu, summer squash, apple-raisin salad, and grapes, the boys piled their plates. Then Horn-Boy led them to a table where a bald guy wearing a bone through his nose introduced himself: “Hey, I’m Sonny Bone-Nose.” And a bearded man in a nun’s habit said, “I’m Sister Missionary Position.”

Kyle moved his food around his plate and asked, “Um, so, like, can you tel us more about the Faeries?”

“Wel,” the bearded nun explained, “the group started with Harry Hay.”

“The Harry Hay School!” Jason abruptly broke in. “That’s the name of the school where I’m speaking in L.A.!”

“Harry pioneered the gay movement,” Bone-Nose elaborated. “He believed that we as gay people see life through a different window. That’s why the mainstream is scared of us.”

Jason nodded as if trying to understand. It made Nelson feel glad for insisting on coming here.

After dinner and cleanup, the boys joined about a dozen Faeries on the rug of the living room for something caled a “Heart Circle.”

“Someone starts the circle,” Horn-Boy explained, “by raising the talking stick.” In the center of the room lay a foot-long knobby piece of wood, worn smooth and dangling with multicolored beads and feathers.

“When the stick comes around, you either pass or speak about what’s in your heart.” As the stick began going around, individuals talked about al sorts of life stuff. A guy with a Mohawk was scared because his sister had been diagnosed with breast cancer. A woman in a footbal jersey felt hurt because her girlfriend had moved back in with her parents. And an old white-haired guy was excited about going to trapeze school.

Nelson listened in amazement as people spoke so openly about their sorrows, dreams, and joys. When the stick reached him, Nelson rubbed his fingers along the smooth wood. “I think you guys are awesome,” he told the group. “It’s like
The Wizard of Oz
when you suddenly go from black-and-white to Technicolor. I haven’t felt this excited since Madonna kissed Britney.”