Fancy White Trash by Marjetta Geerling Read Free Book Online Page A

up. She’s swinging an enormous Victoria’s Secret bag between them, the bright pink stripes glinting in the fluorescent lighting. The Guitar Player has one pretzel in his hand and Mom is taking bites out of it as he feeds it to her. God, give it a rest already. That bag better be filled with scented hand creams and body sprays, because the idea of her and him and smutty underwear is too much for me today.

Chapter 5
    Only the second day of school and already it’s started. Cody and I are walking from our lockers to home-room on Tuesday when someone rams us from behind and slams Cody against a trash can.
    â€œWatch it!” I yell, even though I can’t see who it was.
    Cody wipes trash juice from the side of the can off his new boot-cut jeans. His face shows more than distaste for the gross. He is afraid.
    I hand him a tissue out of my backpack. I’m pretty sure it’s clean. “Don’t worry. It was just an accident.”
    He nods but doesn’t look at me. The tissue turns a splotchy brown, and he throws it away. “It’s not the only thing.”
    â€œWhat else? Why didn’t you tell me?” I promised Cody this would stop, but really, I’d just hoped it would all go away.
    â€œDidn’t want you to worry.” He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a drawstring bag. “It was in my locker this morning.”
    I peek inside. “What’s Mr. Manly doing at school?”
    My sisters gave me a dildo for my fourteenth birthday. I still haven’t figured out if it was a joke, a girl-power thing, or just a statement on the sad state of teen sex in the new millennium. Whatever it was, Mr. Manly is still in his gift bag, hidden under my bed.
    Cody shakes his head like he can’t believe he wants to laugh. “It’s not Mr. Manly.” He urges me to lean in. “Look closer.”
    This dildo is definitely not Mr. Manly. This is Mr. Manly’s older, bigger, black brother. “Oh my God. Why would they give this to you?”
    He digs in his backpack. “It came with a card.”
    Maybe this will keep you at home.
    I give Cody a hug. “It’s just some jerk. Ignore them.”
    Cody’s body quivers. “I can’t do it again—not this year, not anymore. Abs, I’ve got to get out of this place.”
    â€œWe’ll tell someone. A teacher, or the principal. They’ll make it stop.”
    On soap operas, teens are only taunted for being uncool, which usually a makeover from a do-gooder character can cure. With Cody, it’s not that simple and I understand why he’s so afraid to come out. If this is how they treat him when they’re not sure, how much worse will it be when they know?
    â€œNo one can help me. I don’t even know who it is.”
    I have a hunch. When you’ve known someone your whole life, you pretty much know what they are capable of. Sean Evans and Craig Phelps are my two main suspects. They tortured the fetal pig in Bio last year, making it dance with its dissected insides hanging out. To Cody, I say, “We won’t know unless we try.”
    â€œNo.” He stands up straight, takes the drawstring bag, and stuffs it into his backpack. “It’s bad enough what they think. I won’t have my teachers looking at me weird, thinking I’m . . . you know.”
    But you are . I don’t say it, because just the word gay makes him wince. There are only three openly gay students at Union High, and they’re mostly left alone. I don’t know why Cody is singled out. Last year, he dealt with graffiti on his locker, and stupid shit like having his underwear stolen during PE and then returned the next day with a hole cut in the butt. The brush-bys in the hallways, the whispered hate. It escalated in the spring, but no matter how much I begged, he wouldn’t tell anyone but me.
    The bell rings. We’re late. And because Cody swears me to silence, I lie to