Chapter 128

T-shirts, sweats, boxers, socks…tonsof socks, Mrs. T must think Ryan’s going to wear them out or something, she packed so many. Towels, like Ryan said, and pillowcases? Dante can’t imagine why. A laundry bag, that’s something he wouldn’t have thought of, a thin blanket, a camera, and a handful of film. Behind him, Dante hears the faint squee squeeof Ryan’s wheels, and he glances over his shoulder to see his boyfriend maneuvering his chair to a spot near the couch. Maybe he’ll watch TV, Dante hopes. Anything to take his mind off of Dietrich’s hateful words. Fucking queers—why does he make it sound like such a badthing that Dante loves another boy? That he can stare into Ryan’s eyes and see his own soul staring back? What’s it matter to Wil Dietrich, anyway? “I love you, baby,” Dante says, turning back to the suitcase.

He doesn’t expect a reply, given Ryan’s mood, but he hears a muffled response, “Love you, too,” and that’s enough for him.