Tips on Having a Gay (ex) Boyfriend by Carrie Jones

out the window, but he’s still got his seat belt on like a good cop. He has crinkles by his eyes that make him look old, but other than that, he’s got the same look as Tom: strong, dark, healthy. “Pretty early for biking, Belle.”
    I nod. “It’s the only time I’m free.”
    “You cold?”
    “Yep.”
    He nods his head and says, “Get in the cruiser for a sec.”
    I walk my bike to the side of the road, brace it against a tree, and hop into the cruiser. Warm stuffy air blasts against my cheeks. It smells like sugar in here. I try to see if there’s any evidence of Dunkin Donuts. Yes! A coffee cup. No donuts, though.
    Tom’s dad notices me looking, waits a second, and says, “I gave up donuts.”
    I bite my lip, embarrassed, but he just laughs in such a good, friendly way that my nerves calm down just a little.
    “The whole stereotype of small-town cop/big-town gut was too much for me.” He pats his stomach, which is flat and lean like Tom’s. He takes a big breath and says, “Belle, I didn’t call you in here to talk about donuts.”
    “I didn’t think so,” I say, trying to keep my calm but I’m wondering why I’m in here. Is he going to arrest me? Yell at me about not dating Tom in eighth grade. I’m wearing my dorkiest bike helmet, pink with pictures of Minnie Mouse riding bikes with Mickey so I’m obviously not breaking that law. I sit on my hands to warm them up and keep them from shaking.
    He fiddles with the dial to his radio. I notice his gun on his waist. He’s got a police radio on the dashboard, a radar detector, handcuffs. There’s a lot of crazy stuff in here and it makes me nervous, even though I like Tom’s dad.
    He takes another big breath and says, “I heard about Dylan.”
    Ah, great. It’s my turn to take a deep breath. Dick McKenny drives by us and honks. He runs the county ambulance service. We all wave.
    “What about Dylan?” I say to buy time.
    Tom’s dad raises his eyebrows and gives me a look that says he’s used to the runaround and has no patience for it. “That he’s gay.”
    He just flat-out says it like that.
    “Do his parents know?” he asks me.
    “I don’t think so,” I say, gulping, but if he already knows, maybe everybody knows. I look away, out at the woods. The thick, overgrown, trees lean every which way, worried down from ice and wind. They make everything claustrophobic like the entire town is leaning in, listening. They block out the sky. Sometimes I long for a big sky and no more listening trees, for horizons and no more neighbors knowing your business.
    Tom’s dad says, “Belle, I know this is hard on you, so I’m going to cut to the chase. Okay?”
    I nod, bite at the side of my lip, unbuckle my helmet, and tuck some of my hair back into my ponytail. “Okay?”
    He locks me in with those charcoal eyes, just like Tom’s. Someone else honks but neither of us look to see who it is, we just raise our hands in an automatic wave. He sighs and says, “I wish you never went out with that boy, Belle. He’s a great kid, a smart boy, but not for you. We both know that now, right? When Tom told me what the two of them agreed to back in eighth grade.”
    “You mean the deal?” I say, smirking.
    He nods. “Stupid business. But what I want to say Belle is that they call Eastbrook a city, but with 6,000 people or so, it’s really just a town, a small town. You and I both know that.”
    He looks straight ahead, grabs his steering wheel, bites at the side of his cheek, and says, “You and I both know that some people in Eastbrook aren’t all that forward thinking. They might give Dylan trouble. I told Tom. He’s going to be on the lookout in case anything happens, but when I saw you riding your bike, I thought maybe I should tell you too.”
    “What kind of trouble?”
    “It was only twenty years ago when those boys dropped that gay guy off that bridge up in Bangor, you ever hear about that?”
    I nod. It was horrible. They chased him out of a