Already changed, but just on the surface—could still be reversed, washed off, undone. Once I’ve eaten out of a trash can, though, something inside will be changed forever.

A real boy. Me. The me who knows where the Rio de La Paz runs. No need for strings. No need to cheat. No need to fear.

Reach in, not with the cool of taking a snack from the fridge, but not a guy sticking his paw into a nest of snakes either. Seems a long reach, like the trash can is getting deeper or the leftovers are shrinking back from my hand. Then fingers close around the cup—straw still poking through the plastic lid. Jolt of pure joy: It’s half full and the ice hasn’t melted.

Decide not to look—just discover by taste. Coke, Dr Pepper, Fanta, anything’ll be okay. Take a long pull. Second jolt of happiness: It’s lemonade. That’s what I woulda ordered if I had the choice.

Yes!

I’m free. Shards of fear at my feet. They just look like broken glass.

Ruby

So the bass player’s name is Ryan and he is really, really, I mean really, nice.

He asks me if I have, like, a boyfriend or something, and I go, “I did until yesterday when he was caught cheating.”

And Ryan’s all, “Guy’s out of his bean to cheat on a girl like you.”

So I crack up and go, like, “Not that kind of cheating! He cheated on a midterm—like, in school!”

I can tell that Ryan doesn’t absolutely for sure see why a person has to, like, break up with another person for cheating on a test. But then he thinks about it for a while and he goes, “Wow! You’re strict!” Like he likes that!

And I’m all, “Cheating is gross. And it was, like, geology or geography or something—not worth taking, let alone totally not worth getting in trouble over, or whatever. Plus, how can you, like, trust a cheater?”

Anyway, I don’t mind Ryan thinking I’m all, like, super-honest or anything.

He’s really good on bass. I mean way good.

And there are hordes of other boys here who are paying me, like, all kinds of attention. Older guys. My brother-in-law-to-be’s friends. I’m dancing with absolutely, like, everyone. So ask me if I miss Danny for even one tiny second.

The answer: Danny who?

Rob

No roadblock, cliff, wild river without a bridge. Nothin’ to stop me from moving on. I’m just ready to stop.

I turn around, head back, knowing I’m the guy who knows where the Rio de la Paz is because I’m the guy who lives my life. Good or bad, I’m the guy who has my old man as a father. Getting the Rio de la Paz answer wrong would have been like erasing myself.