Divisions (Dev and Lee) by Kyell Gold

to follow him, but she’s looking for something specific that I guess she wants me to see, so I wait a moment.
    She digs out a newspaper, the Lakeside Gazette, and folds it around to a picture of me they must still have on file from high school, under the headline, “Local UFL Star Comes Out.” She looks at the picture, then at me, and grins. “It is you!”
    “That’s me.”
    The ermine scans the headline and then looks at Lee. “So this guy’s your boyfriend?”
    “Yeah.” Lee’s ears are down, his tail tip flicking restlessly. He forces a smile, though. “And we’re looking for my father. Sorry, but we do have to get going.”
    “Could you just sign this?” She holds the paper out to me and gives me one of the credit card signing pens by the register.
    I wish the picture wasn’t under the big “COMES OUT” headline. “Sure,” I say, and scrawl my signature and “#57” across the bottom of the picture.
    “Awesome.” She gazes fondly at the paper. “I’m gonna frame this up on the wall, if that’s okay.”
    It occurs to me that if she does, people will think I buy booze at this store. “Um—”
    “Dev, please.”
    Right. We’ve got things to do. “Sure, fine.” I raise a paw. “Thanks for the help.”
    It’s been a while since I went to the White Pine, but it’s not like there’s a lot of roads out here. Lee’s even more fidgety as I turn onto County Road 8. “It’s two miles,” I say. “Just relax.”
    There aren’t many buildings. The only light out here is the circle of headlights along the road, showing gravel at the side, and that’s bright enough that I can barely see the outlines of trees in what little moonlight and starlight there is. We pass the Greasy Gary’s gas station and the Pine Mart convenience store, both dark and empty under the single street light. Then we plunge back into dark, empty country roads. “I hope he’s there,” Lee says. “Because if he went there to drink and then tried to drive back…”
    “Your dad wouldn’t do anything that stupid.” Stupid being a relative term; I did it a couple times in high school, but I know the roads and I was never all
that
drunk. That I remember.
    “Not sober,” Lee says.
    “Have you ever seen him drunk?”
    “No.” Lee leans against the door. “He’s always been responsible.”
    Which is funny, considering Lee himself isn’t always the most responsible guy in the world. I wonder how much of him comes from his mother, that passion and the willingness to go haring off on crusades. “Well, I’m sure he didn’t get trashed and go driving around Lake Handerson. Anyway, we’ve passed like three cops just since we’ve been out. They’d pull him over if he was driving funny.”
    “Great.” Lee’s laugh is harsh. “Maybe I’ll get to bail
him
out of jail. Chaz probably remembers me.”
    “It’s only been two weeks. And that was pretty memorable.”
    He doesn’t answer, just sits up staring ahead at the bar trying to see the cars. I slow and turn, but again, by the time I park, it’s clear Lee’s car isn’t here.
    We get out again, go in and talk to the bartender, but he says no other fox has been in, certainly not in the last hour. He recognizes me too, but not from the coming-out article, and I escape without signing anything or having Lee identified as my boyfriend.
    In the car, Lee tries calling again, and again his father doesn’t answer. He stares at his phone and then pulls up another number and stares at it for a solid minute. “Who else are you calling?” I ask. “Police? You got Chaz’s number on speed dial?”
    He shakes his head, and then taps the Call button and picks it up. “It’s Wiley,” he says, in a low, guarded tone I’ve rarely heard him use, ever. “I know it’s late. I’m sorry. It’s Father. I just wanted to know if he’d called.”
    I don’t need to hear the female voice on the other end to know he’s talking to his mother. His tone gets sharper. “Because