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Travis always hates these cook-out things. There's a special kind of hatred in his heart for any kind of event that takes place outside, in fact - for the way the outdoor light aggravates his eye, but also for the way the heat always makes his makeup drip.
Still, it's been so long since his mom has smiled… It's been stressful running from his father. He can see it in the shadows under her eyes, the tense line of her shoulders.
Now, seeing her beam like that, laughing and holding on to her friend, Travis can't even pretend to throw a fit. If it means her having a good time, he'll do his best to have a good time too.
Ugh.
The blonde woman hugging his mother - Diane? - turns to him and grins. Her smile has a calming quality to it, her dark eyes sparkling with motherly affection, and he lets it relax him. Or more accurately, it relaxes him entirely without his permission.
It's been a while since anyone who wasn't his mother looked at him fondly. Being the new kid is a lonely life. Not that it wasn't before.
"You must be Travis!" Diane says. She puts a hand over her mouth, her pink-painted nails shiny in the sun. "I haven't seen you since you were the size of a lemon!"
"Uh, yeah. Now I just have the hair color of one."
That makes the adults laugh, which is very awkward but probably a score, if his mom's big smile is anything to go by. He smiles too, even as his face grows hot.
"I like your hair," Mom says, reaching up to ruffle it gently. He fights not to make a face. "It's very bright. Just like my baby, hm?"
"Oh, geez. Mom!"
She turns back to her friends, looking smug. "Travis is very counterculture. Alternative . Super cool."
"Mom! Seriously." He laughs, feeling his face grow red hot. "I don't think saying my kid's a punk is going to impress anybody."
The man standing next to Diane smiles and gestures to his own bright blue hair. His roots aren't dark, so it must be a recent development.
"You'd be surprised," he says. "Around here, we think going against the status quo is very groovy. " Travis snorts behind his sleeve. "Actually, our son Sal is around here somewhere. I think you two might get along."
"Yeah?"
"Yep. He's alternative too."
Getting along… Now that would be surprising. Travis doesn't get along with much of anybody. As soon as they see his bubblegum pink and lilac purple clothes, they tend to turn the opposite way. They don't even get close enough to see the spikes - or his super cool eyepatch. It's probably the only good thing to come from this stupid injury. From his stupid father.
As if reading his mind, his mom pulls his light pink eyepatch out of her pocket. Her back pocket.
"Ew!"
"Wha-" She looks at where she pulled the patch from. "Oh, hush. It's not like pinkeye can make it any worse."
He giggles, gingerly taking the patch out of her hand. "Oh, jeez, it's warm."
"I am a very warm lady. Just be glad I haven't worked up a sweat yet." She's so much shorter than him in his platforms that she has to lean up to kiss his cheek. "Now put it on so you'll stop squinting. You look like a snooty old lady."
Sighing, he does as she says, no longer complaining. Anything to get this stupid sunlight out of his eye. "Ugh. I spent way too long on my eyeliner for this to be legal."
"I know, baby. Hopefully I'll have money for the surgery soon."
Diane looks shocked at that, her own eyes wide with worry. "Surgery?"
"Yeah," Travis sighs. "Or, yes ma'am. My eye is damaged really badly, so they have to remove it. It's super expensive to do that though."
"Hence the patch," Mom helpfully supplies.
"I like that it's pink," says Diane's husband. That makes Travis smile.
"Thanks. Other than purple, it's like my favorite color."
Diane winks and flashes her nails. "Mine too. It's actually Sal's as well, which you'll see as soon as he comes down…" She turns and looks through the trees in the direction of the big brick building, hands on her hips as she squints. "I told that boy to hurry! I don't like him being alone..."
"He probably got busy with Larry," Mr. Diane says, running a hand through his hair. He looks nervous, Travis thinks, but he keeps a brave face for his wife. "You know how they are."
Diane sighs, but smiles. "I certainly do."
They seem pretty protective of this kid. Weird… Travis wonders what happened to make them so worried. Is it like his eye? Did someone hurt Sal?
Finally the two turn back to Mom, who smiles warmly at them. "Is Larry a friend of Sal's?" He can practically feel her swallowing her own curiosity for sake of politeness.
"Oh, yeah." Diane grin, shaking her head fondly. "Thick as thieves, those two. Larry should be going over to another friend's house, otherwise we'd invite him. At this point, he's like our second son!"
Travis fights not to wrinkle his nose. Secretly, he's glad it's only the one guy. Having two dudes around to treat him like shit for being girly is overkill, but he can handle the one. Especially if it makes Mom happy.
While the adults chat more about how Sal's adjusting to blah blah, new school, new friends, blah blah, Travis finally takes a minute to look around.
It's easier with the eyepatch on to appreciate how pretty everything is. They may have moved to the town over, but he's still a Nockfell native, born and raised. One would think he should be used to the bright sunshine by now - and he is, to a point, but not to the way it paints the grass a brilliant shade of green or the way it shines golden in lines through the trees surrounding them. The forest is foreboding, but he feels oddly safe in the circle of its arms.
Maybe it's the tree house that helps the most. It's not very big, but it's tall, sat comfortably in one of the few trees left in the little clearing around Addison Apartments.
It makes the place feel less like a creepy, run-down building and more like a home. Somebody grew up here and the proof is right up there in that tree.
There's also a large folding table out here, obviously brought out here recently for the get together they're having, and a grill beside it. Travis isn't one for the fancy stuff like steaks, but he hopes there'll be hotdogs. He could go for a hotdog.
It's as he's peering backwards towards the table, squinting to see what food they've brought, that he hears a door open and close.
He realizes what the sound means at the same time Diane is saying, "Sal! There you are!"
He turns and immediately has to fight not to let his jaw drop.
That's Sal Fisher?!
He's dressed edgy, his pants those classic dark tripp pants Travis is always wishing came in pastel, straps designed to look like caution tape hanging off the belt. His shirt is a tee for some band Travis has never heard of, but the sleeves have been cut off, revealing dark shoulders. His hair is done up in pigtails, dyed a bright blue just like his father's, and his face is-
Well, it looks like ceramic. And it's completely pink.
Sal trudges forward, his converse kind of flopping beneath the hems of his flared pant legs in a way that suggests they're a friend's shoes, before stopping beside his mother and father.
"Hey," he says, his voice way deeper than Travis would have guessed. "Sorry for being late. Todd needed some help with something."
His father smiles. "Oh, that Todd. How are his folks?"
"Hiiiigh as a kite." Sal laughs, the sound muffled behind his mask, before turning to face the boy in front of him. "You must be Travis. It's good to meet you."
"And you're Sal," Travis manages to choke out. "Cool mask. I like the color."
The eyes behind the mask crinkle at the corners. "It's a prosthetic." He doesn't sound offended - if anything, he sounds pleasantly surprised.
"Oh! I have to get one of those soon. But for my eye."
"I have a prosthetic eye too!" He taps the side of his prosthetic face, his black-painted nail tapping against the pink material. "The sunlight probably makes it hard to see the colors, but I'm wearing a red one."
"A red glass eye? That's so fucking cool!"
Mom gasps a laugh. "Travis!"
"Shit, sorry- I mean shoot. Crap." He winces again, putting a hand over his good eye to hide. "Oops."
Everybody laughs, but it's good-natured, which is way more than he'd hoped for when Mom said they were meeting new people, so he laughs too.
"Sorry," he tries again. "I've been wondering what kind of glass eye I would want. I'm definitely considering one of the Naruto eyes. Sharingan?"
Diane turns to Mom and mouths Naruto? but Sal laughs. "Dude, yes! Well, if you're a dude, I mean. I don't mean to assume. Either way, I like your skirt."
Travis grin is so wide it almost makes his eyepatch fall off. "Thank you! It was a black lolita skirt I found at that second hand shop that sells all the platforms."
"9 Inch Thrift?" He gestures to his shirt, a dark grey faded tee with a large sword printed on it, the band's name written in blood on the blade. "I got this retro Oden's Blood tee there! I love that place!"
"Me too! I got these shoes first time I went." He lifts his knee to show the chunky black boots. "I'm hoping to dye them once I know more about how to do that without destroying the shoe."
"Is that how you got the skirt that cool cotton candy pattern?" Mr. Fisher suddenly asks.
Travis grins at him. "Kind of! I had to bleach it first, which was a total mess, but then I did a kind-of tie-dye using pastel paints."
Mom shakes her head, her dark waves of hair brushing her shoulders. "It's going to be a disaster when you wash that thing."
"It was fabric paint!" He objects. "It'll be fine. Hopefully."
Sal laughs again, less amusement and more happiness. "I think it's awesome you do DIY. I tried to DIY some acid-wash jeans once and thought it would kill me."
"Bleach fumes are a bi- er. A bit strong."
"Nice save," compliments Diane.
"Thanks," he laughs, face growing warm - and not just from embarrassment. Sal is super cool! Plus, his arms look really good in the sun...
Mom, Diane, and Mr. Fisher exchange a look that has Travis blushing even harder before Mr. Fisher smiles at them and says, "Why don't you two go hang while your mothers catch up? I'm gonna run in and grab the ice chest I forgot."
Sal snorts. "I was just inside! Why didn't you text me?"
"I… keep forgetting I can do that."
They giggle at Mr. Fisher as they all split up, the man going back towards the house as the moms go towards the picnic table and the teens go the direction of the tree house.
Travis blinks at it as they approach, his footsteps accompanied by the crunching of grass under Sal's converse. "Is this your tree house? It looks cool."
"Nah, it's Larry's. He said I could take you up there if you were cool though."
That makes heat bloom across Travis' face. His ears burn. "You think I'm cool?"
"Definitely. If you want to keep hanging out, I think he and my other friends would agree."
Travis blinks down at his moving feet, a smile on his face. Friends? That would be cool. His only pal is his childhood acquaintance Dawn, but now that they don't have school together, it's hard to talk. Ze has those apps that delete hir messages, but ze's stuck deep in the closet for hir own safety. It makes spending time together impossible, even just playing Minecraft. It's miserable.
Travis is miserable. He doesn't want to admit it, but he's lonely. For all his grumblings, he was looking forward to meeting new people just as much as he was afraid.
"Do you think they'd like me even though I'm, y'know…" He gestures to his skirt with a curtsy, his violet thumbnail dark against the cloudy pink and blue. "Your local girly boy?"
"Hm? Oh! Yeah, I wear skirts a lot too and everybody's cool about it. We're actually thinking about crashing prom and I already have this cool retro-looking yellow dress picked out." He sounds like he's smiling. "My friend Neil helped me pick it out. He's really into yellow."
"That's awesome!" Maybe not about the yellow part, but Travis can be open-minded too. "I'll bet prom will be fun… Where do you go to school?"
Sal stops before the tree, looking up the not-quite ladder that's been nailed into the tree trunk. "Here in Nockfell. I thought it would be harder to find friends, since we just moved here at the start of the semester, but people at Nockfell High are pretty cool."
"I'm glad." He can't say the same for the kids at his school, but the GNCC (Gender Non-Conforming Club) at least gives him a space to be. "Do you ever get… hurt?"
Thoughts of being spat at, slapped, even kicked in the legs as he walks down the hall come to mind. Not to mention the things people will say. He can't stand to stay too late after school, terrified that someone will follow him out into the dark as he walks to he and Mom's apartment.
Sal gestures to the ladder and Travis goes up.
"Don't look up my skirt," he jokes. Or maybe flirts. He might be flirting.
Beneath him, Sal laughs, but it sounds high and embarrassed. "Don't worry! I'm not that kind of guy."
Not creepy or not into dudes in skirts? Travis puts his disappointment to the side for when he's more certain. In the immortal words of Beyoncé, a winner don't quit on themselves.
When he makes it to the opening of the tree house, he peers in, clutching tightly at the rim. He expected it to be messier, being a tree house and all. It's pretty tidy up here, though. There's even furniture up here, which feels crazy. How did they get this chest up here, let alone this big ass cabinet?
The beanbags in the corner makes more sense to him. There's a blue one, a green one, a purple one, and an orange one. Finally climbing inside, he crawls over and sits down in the purple one like a crow takes smug residence in its nest, careful to smooth his skirt under his legs to keep the skin from sticking to the slick material of the chair.
Sal follows, plopping down in the beanbag next to his. "Um, to answer your question... Sometimes people can be… not great. I'm already the weirdo goth kid, not to mention the freak in the mask. If I wear a skirt, it just makes things worse. Most people are cool, but there's still some assholes. Always will be."
Travis sighs wistfully. "Yeah, I hear that. It makes me happy you have friends that support you, though."
"Do you?" He straightens then, hands in front of him in worry. His mismatched eyes are easier to see in the even lighting of the tree house, bright with compassionate worry. "If that isn't too personal, I mean…"
"Heh, no, you're okay. Um. I have this club I go to and the kids there are nice, but that's outside of school. I actually went to Nockfell Middle before moving with my mom." He scratches the side of his neck nervously. "I actually used to be one of those assholes… I was so cruel. My dad put the fear of God into me, so I had to put that fear into other people."
He shivers at the memory of who he used to be. He hates that boy. He hates that boy more than anything. Sal puts a hand on his shoulder, gentle and comforting, making Travis sigh, unable to stop himself from relaxing under his touch.
"Now I'm in an all new place and I'm exactly the kind of person I used to hurt," he laughs humorlessly. "I don't know. Maybe it's karma or something."
Sal slides his hand down Travis' arm to squeeze his hand, his palm soft against Travis' knuckles. "You don't deserve to be punished. I haven't heard a lot about why you moved, but my mom was telling me that you guys have been through a lot getting away from your dad. You both deserve to rest. And the support."
Heat prickles at Travis' neck and underarms, making him sweat. "That's very nice of you…" He meets Sal's eyes through the mask. One red, one brilliant blue. "I'm not sure I always agree, but it feels good to hear."
When Sal pulls away, Travis tries not to look too disappointed. He doesn't think he does a good job of it, because Sal's eyes find his again, this time looking knowingly through him. They share something like a smile, then look away.
"If you'd like, you're welcome to join me and my friends whenever you have the time." Travis blinks in surprise, but Sal only continues, "I really do think they'd like you."
Travis huffs a laugh. "I was a bully. I probably bullied them too."
"You could apologize. I'm sure they'll be understanding, especially if you come as you are. My friends are a good sort. They're very understanding."
Travis can't help but laugh more, just as sardonically as he ever has. It's a nice thought, but likely unrealistic. "Maybe we should change the subject…"
"Sure." He says it like it's easy, brushing his hair behind his pierced ear with a careful nonchalance. "Let's see, new subject… Oh, I know! I have a cat and his name is Gizmo."
Relaxing, Travis grins in relief. "I have a cat too! Her name is Stand Up and she's kind of the best cat ever. Like, no offense to Gizmo, but if it came to a battle of wills, wits, and whiskers, she would win."
Unoffended, Sal ducks his head and laughs. "That's probably true. Gizmo doesn't have much of that, except whiskers… He mostly just likes to watch T.V."
They giggle together, leaning towards each other. Sal is a warm presence, somehow not sweltering in the already significant heat of the sunny day. Travis likes it. A lot.
"He sounds like a good cat," Travis says, licking his bottom lip. "What's his favorite show?"
They talk about Gizmo's love of popcorn action flicks and bad horror films, then about Stand Up's more gentle appreciation for poetry and the kalimba, which leads them to talk more about the instruments they play and what kind of music they like. It's a good conversation - and it's so, so nice to feel close to somebody again.
Travis loves his mom, but God, he misses being around someone his own age. He goes to movies and lunch with the GNCC and it's really healing to go to those support groups with his mom, it just isn't the same as having a one-on-one friend. And Sal is definitely interested in being his friend.
Maybe more, if the brushing of their hands and shoulders means anything. Once, Sal adjusts his skirt over his knee, and Travis nearly faints right there.
"Boys!" Diane's voice suddenly calls. It sounds far away, carrying up the ladder with difficulty. "I think we're ready for lunch down here! You two hungry?"
Travis and Sal look at each other, laughing.
"You ready for lunch?" Sal asks.
Smiling, Travis nods. "I could eat."
Sal stands and goes to the opening, bracing his arm against the wall to keep from falling. It makes the faint musculature of his arm stand out, drawing Travis' gaze (and a secretive little smile).
Unaware of Travis checking him out, Sal yells down to the woman below, "Yeah, Mom, we'll be right there!"
When Sal turns back around, Travis bites his lip and looks away.
Maybe this cook-out won't suck so bad after all.