“That was your own choice,” Calvin said. He walked around so he could see Mel’s face, and the other two followed him. Jacky was snarling; any pretense at being cool had vanished. The animal was showing through.

“There isn’t anyone else in Hotshot like me. I would have been alone.”

Jason looked blank. “There are lots of guys in Hotshot like you,” he said.

“No, Jason,” I said. “Mel’s gay.”

“We’re not okay with that?” my brother asked Calvin. Jason hadn’t yet gotten the party line on a few issues, apparently.

“We’re okay with people doing what they want to do in bed after they’ve done their duty to the clan,” Calvin said. “Purebred males have to father a young ’un, no matter what.”

“I couldn’t do it,” Mel said. “I just plain couldn’t do it.”

“But you were married once,” I said, and wished I hadn’t spoken. This was a matter for the clan now. I hadn’t called Bud Dearborn; I’d called Calvin. My word was good enough for Calvin, not for court.

“Our marriage didn’t work in that department,” Mel said. His voice sounded almost normal. “Which was okay with her. She had her own fish to fry. We never had . . . conventional sex.”

If I found this distressing, I could only imagine how hard it had been for Mel. But when I remembered what Crystal had looked like up on that cross, all my sympathy drained away in a hurry.

“Why did you do that to Crystal?” I asked. I could tell from the rage building in the brains around me that the time for talking was almost over.