Page 26 of Exchanged

Or maybe that jersey is Garrett’s version of a pride flag.

The thought sends a white-hot jolt of energy through my stomach. I’ve never met another gay guy in real life, and I wouldn’t know how to tell if I did, apart from asking him, which is exactly what Garrett did to me in our first five minutes alone together.

And then there was the comment he made about how, if they saw the people in Irontown, his friends would be worried about him being the victim of a hate crime. At the time, I wondered what a straight white boy had to worry about in a small town, but now it seems obvious: Garrett isn’t actually straight.

Later that week, Garrett, Emma, and I settle in for a video call with Garrett’s parents. GYA requires our two families to do these every so often to “foster open communication and understanding.” Aunt Liz joins us in place of Dad. He used a concurrent Chamber of Commerce meeting as an excuse, but I bet he’s avoiding Garrett’s parents because he’s ashamed of how he went off on them on the phone.

Garrett’s parents appear on the laptop screen, minimizing our own blinking faces to a small box in the corner. They introduce themselves as Brock and Gina, and I note the strong familial resemblance between them and their son. Brock has the same square jaw, the same rust-colored hair as Garrett, but his hairline is receding and his eyes are a dull brown. Gina has Garrett’s gray-blue eyes, with blond hair feathering away from her face in hair-sprayed layers, her skin too tan to be natural.

They ask the sort of pleasant, superficial questions that come from people who don’t expect to really get to know us—what grade Emma and I are in, what our hobbies are, what Aunt Liz does for work—and we answer them. Brock’s voice holds a stronger accent than Garrett’s, and he talks slowly, like a man who knows everyone will listen to him no matter how long he speaks. I’m reminded of a trombone solo no one wants to hear.

After a few minutes, Garrett interrupts the small talk. “Where are you guys?”

Gina and Brock sit in a bright room with tall ceilings and lace curtains. I’d assumed it was their bedroom.

“Church mission trip,” Brock says solemnly. “Jamaica. We’re right outside Kingston.”

“We’ve been helping build a new community center,” Gina says. “And I can’t tell you how difficult it is to see the conditions for the children here. Just heartbreaking. It’s been an honor getting to know them and understanding what their lives are like.”

“Where are you staying?” Garrett asks.

“A resort,” Brock says. “The church guesthouse doesn’t have air conditioning.”

“Sounds rough.” His tone is genuine enough to evoke a benevolent smile from his mother, yet salty enough to elicit a snort from Aunt Liz. I glance at him. He sits in a relaxed slouch, but his fists, held up near his armpits, give him away. His knuckles are white, as if each hand were holding on to shards of glass that he refused to let go of no matter how much pain they caused.

This is why he’s here, after all: so his parents can travel. They forced him to go through with his placement even when GYA couldn’t send him abroad because they’d wanted to live their own lives. Garrett has two brothers, seven and nine years older than him, and I find myself wondering about his position in his family—if his parents intended to have him or if he was an accident.

As the conversation nears its end, Brock holds up a paper. “Liz, I’ve got Garrett’s grades here. He’s at a B-plus in chemistry and an A-minus in calculus. That won’t fly. Would you mind making sure he gets those up?”

“I’m not great at either of those subjects myself,” Aunt Liz says diplomatically, “but I can try.”

“If not, we’d be happy to pay for extra tutoring,” Brock says. “His brothers never needed it, but if that’s what it takes to get his grades up, we can make it happen.”

Aunt Liz shifts in her chair. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“And we’re still waiting on Joe to give us a call about Garrett’s friends,” Brock says.

At Aunt Liz’s blank expression, Gina explains, “Garrett had a … rough year last year. Surrounded himself with a crowd that pressured him into bad situations. We’re hoping he’ll have more positive influences this year.”

Aunt Liz nods, and as the call ends, I glance at Garrett once more. His expression remains passive, but a red flush has crept into his cheeks, and I resolve to never bring up this conversation again. If I were him, I would hate to have my dad talk about me to people I barely know as if I weren’t in the room.

“They seem nice,” Emma says, closing the laptop.

Garrett nods and gives her a warm smile. “Yeah. They’re the greatest.”

While we hope that our Youth Ambassadors will have a vibrant, fulfilling social life during their year in the program, we strongly discourage dating and romantic relationships. We urge Ambassadors to invest their energy in making connections with their host family and friends, developing a circle of support that will benefit them during both the highs and lows of the year. It’s also important to remember that placements are temporary, and emotionally intense romantic bonds can be especially challenging to navigate when it’s time to say goodbye. Encourage your Ambassador to focus on fostering lifelong friendships instead!

—From The Global Youth Ambassadors Handbook,

Section 5: “Navigating Social Life”

EIGHT

On Friday night, I sit on metal bleachers, sandwiched between Katrina and Trevor. September hit cold and hard this year, and I’m thankful for my wool band uniform. We watch as the Irontown football team gets decimated in the second half of our home game, the players looking like ghosts under the harsh white lights. After we play our halftime field show, the job of the marching band is to sit in the stands and play pep music whenever Irontown scores. This hasn’t happened much tonight, so Mr. Campbell has started making us play during all the downtime. There’s a lot of that in football.

I halfheartedly bang my cymbals together on the second and fourth beat of every measure, having long ago abandoned the drumline two rows behind me.

Dad and Aunt Liz sit on the other side of the stands, watching the game intently—Dad because he cares about high school football, Aunt Liz because she cares about Garrett.