Clearclay Park

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Cody muddled through school on Thursday by smiling when Coach Gorski looked his way, not even attempting to stop Zack Jenner from scoring on the field, and reassuring Hayden Gearhart that he could take care of his floppy brown hair. He kept his head down in study hall, answered one question in math, and nearly raised his hand in science.

In the afternoon, Hayden led Cody to his yellow school bus and they rode for several minutes in silence with screaming kids and aloof upperclassmen until Hayden signaled that they reached his stop. Cody followed his new friend past the dispassionate stares of peers off the bus and into the suburban streets. Cody hoped the walk would be short; the sun blazed down on him and he found little shade in the sparse palm trees they passed. He was used to shade and comfort in Michigan, but this almost tropical weather was too much for him.

Hayden walked steadily for several minutes, turned down a side road, and then made an abrupt beeline for one of the ranch-style homes on the street. Cody trailed the silent tour guide, passing the well-maintained yard on his way into the house. If he lived with elderly grandparents, the house was probably maintained by Hayden. Maybe he didn’t have friends because he took his chores seriously. Or maybe he was just a freak.

Inside, Cody found the old-fashioned decorations of an elderly couple, complete with doilies and flower-print on the walls. Everything was in pastel colors and the box TV set up looked like it was manufactured in the ‘80s. Cody felt a pang of thankfulness to his parents for being so modern.

“The bathroom is in here,” Hayden said, gesturing toward a narrow hallway.

“Uh, can I have a soda or something first?” Cody asked. He didn’t quite feel comfortable getting squished into a small bathroom with a stranger expecting him to perform some superb feat.

“I guess so. I have some Coke or something in the refrigerator.” Hayden paused for a moment and then darted out of the room.

Cody sat on the futon and glanced at the clunky TV remote control on the stained coffee table. It was the type of remote people used to call a “clicker.” Cody fought the urge to test it out, telling himself that he needed to be a good guest. He wondered where Hayden’s grandparents where, but he didn’t want to pry. Maybe they were active senior citizens.

Hayden returned with two glasses of soda, saying, “Here you go, we’re out of ice.”

“It’s cool.” Cody took a sip and waited for Hayden to do something. He didn’t.

They sat in silence for two minutes before Cody heard a high-pitched squeal from another room.

“What’s that?”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Hayden quickly replied. “Do you want to see my turtles? I have two, I’m very fond of them.”

“Do they snap?”

“Only at each other,” Hayden replied with a side grin. “I should get the clippers.”

“All right.” Cody drummed his fingers on the old couch, watching Hayden leave the room again. The squealing continued for a moment until Hayden slammed a door in the hallway. Cody wondered if he should press it or not. He was curious, but he didn’t want to scare Hayden off. Maybe he had a pet pig in addition to the turtles? Or had strange European porn playing on his laptop.

Hayden reappeared, scissors in hand, and asked, “You sure you don’t want to see the turtles? They’re big and slow.”

“I think I’m in the hair cutting mood now,” Cody said. “You know how we gays get.” Cody had no idea what that meant, but he hoped Hayden’s naiveté about gays would pay off.

“Oh yeah. Come on.”

Cody followed Hayden into a small white bathroom with fish painted on the walls and seashells printed on the shower curtain. Hayden quickly pulled his shirt up over his head and folded it. He set it on the toilet seat and faced the mirror. Cody tried not to survey his naked chest, but his eyes had a mind of their own. He hadn’t even seen Adam shirtless yet, and there he was within inches of this strange guy. Hayden was skinny; the curves in his ribs showed through his lean torso. A tuft of brown hair lay in the center of his chest. His hips were bony and Cody felt ashamed for eying him like that, or enjoying the sharp V of his hips that dipped into his khakis.

“I like it relatively short on the sides, slightly longer on top. Think reverse mullet. Shorter you go, the less often I cut it. Um, but you can use your own judgment or whatever you think is best.”

“Thanks.” Cody slid his thumb and forefinger in the loops of the scissors and sliced through the air twice. “And you said you wanted your ears intact this time?”

“Eh, whatever’s fine as long as you’re prepared to stitch the wound free of charge,” Hayden joked.

It took Cody twenty minutes before he was happy with the haircut. His subject had fine hair that needed careful scrutiny, but it looked cute when he finished. Hayden took one look in the mirror and shrugged. He took his wallet out from his pants but Cody stopped him.

“It’s cool, you don’t need to pay me.”

“My instincts tell me to cheer, but I feel like I should honor the arrangement,” Hayden said, squinting his hazel eyes.

“Friends do each other favors,” Cody said.

“So I owe you a favor now?” Hayden asked. “Because I’m not really in the position to help people. I have a lot on my hands with the turtles. And the dishwasher broke. I’m doing the dishes by hand now, but I found a book in the library that I’m using to teach myself to fix it. I’ll get it eventually.”

“Your grandparents rely on you a lot, huh?” Cody asked. He couldn’t picture his own grandparents asking him to do anything handy around the house. They pretty much just gave him hard candy and asked about school.

“I guess so. Houses need taking care of. So do people. Do you have any favors you want done?”

“I’ll let you know if I think of anything,” Cody said.

“How about I make you toothpaste?” Hayden asked. “It doesn’t taste very good, but I make it in bulk and it’s cheap and effective. Toothpaste, huh?”

“I’ll pass, thanks.” Cody couldn’t wait to tell Adam about that proposition. He awkwardly said goodbye to Hayden and walked to the nearest bus stop, which took him back to the hotel after a thirty minute wait.

His parents weren’t back yet and he was sick of the swimming pool. The Florida sun had given his skin a tan that most people would love but he hated. He hoped that if he could stay inside and avoid the sun that his pallor would return. He picked up the hefty copy of Les Misérables he’d borrowed from Dominic, the leader of the Demonic Survivors, and made it through another five pages before he set it down.

He wondered what life would be like if his parents moved him to this Clearclay Park place. The hotel felt as much like home as any other place had. The carpets were red and the maids kept the place clean and tidy. There would be no room service in Clearclay Park, or vaguely recognizable door men to greet him with friendly nods. He didn’t care about school districts before, but now he worried that the new house could make him switch schools.

Suddenly Cody felt queasy. He stood up, but immediately sat back down, a dizzy feeling washing over him. He brushed his dark bangs away and felt his forehead, but it wasn’t warm. He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. He wondered what he ate that could have caused him to feel so bad, and then felt a bubbling in his gut.

Cody rushed to the bathroom and couldn’t make the toilet. He threw up in the sink.

“What the hell?” Cody asked, looking at the silver key that had come out of his mouth.

He immediately felt better, although he didn’t want to think about the strange key. He turned the hot water on as high as it could go and washed the sink and the key. When his vomit was taken care of, he picked up the hot key and looked at it carefully. It was four inches long, and the handle looked hand crafted. He prayed his throat and intestines weren’t cut up from expelling it from his body.

Where on earth had this silver key come from? And what could it possibly open?