by Mason Deaver
“Today?” I ask.
“If you’re okay with that. I’m not sure yet if we’ll need to go to your old school. They should be able to send over your records no problem.”
“Oh.”
“We don’t have to right now, but the sooner we do, the less you’ll miss.”
“No, I mean, that’s fine.” I glance down at my sweatpants. “Just, do you have anything else I can wear? I don’t think Hannah’s done with the laundry.”
Thomas chuckles and nods toward the stairs. “Come on.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting in Thomas’s car, wearing the still too-big shirt, jeans that are so long I have to roll them up three times, and socks that are slowly pooling around my ankles.
But it’s something at least. The hoodie Thomas gave me hides most of my discomfort, I think. And the shoes fit me, which must be some kind of miracle. Or maybe Thomas just has really small feet? He even says I can keep them.
“I can’t tell you the last time I wore them.”
“Thanks.” We pull out of the driveway and onto the road, and immediately everything is so awkward. What do I even say to this guy? What are we supposed to talk about? Would it be too awkward to ask him a bunch of questions? Eventually I spit out: “So why aren’t you at work today?”
Because that’s totally normal. Really hit it out of the park with that one, Ben.
“I called out when Hannah woke me up last night. Figured this was more important.”
“Oh.” I fiddle with the fraying hem of his hoodie. “What do you teach?”
“Chemistry.”
“That’s cool.” I wait a few seconds longer than I probably should. “I like chemistry.”
“It’s interesting, to say the least.” Thomas turns on his blinker. “I guess it’s weird that we’ve never really met.”
“Yeah.” I stare down at the shoes.
“Did your parents talk about your sister a lot? After she left?”
I shake my head. “They sort of had a no-talking-about-Hannah rule.” I pull another of the loose strings, balling it up in my fingers. “How long have you two been married?”
“Four years last September.”
“Oh, that’s great.”
“Yeah.” Thomas sighs. “Hannah talks about you a lot. She’s really missed you.”
Thomas’s words sit sort of heavy in the air, and for a few seconds, there isn’t a word between us. “Yeah, I missed her too,” I add quietly.
I don’t think Thomas fully realizes what he’s said, not that there’s really any reason for him to.
North Wake High is definitely nicer than Wayne.
Wayne High was built in the sixties, with only slight updates here and there when needed. North Wake is all new, with floor-to-ceiling windows, and slanted roofs, and chrome. Even the parking lot is filled with shiny, expensive-looking cars.
Everything looks so bright and new and put together. Like everything here has a place and that’s exactly where it belongs. And I’m the extra piece that doesn’t fit in. Thomas pulls into the parking lot, parking near the front entrance of the school. “Here we are.”
I stare at the front doors of the school. Unmoving.
“You know we don’t have to do this, right?”
“Might as well get it over with,” I say quietly.
“Are you sure? You don’t seem too thrilled. We can look at different schools, I just thought this would be easier.”
“I don’t want to tell them,” I blurt out. “That I’m nonbinary.”
Thomas’s hands drop from the wheel. “Are you sure? You know that means everyone’s going to call you by the wrong pronouns?”
Like that wasn’t obvious. “I don’t care.” I’m used to it by now.
“And you’re sure about this?”
“One hundred percent certain.” And I am. I don’t think I can handle actually being out right now. Not unless I absolutely have to be.
“Okay. We’ll have to lie and say it was something else. This sounds harsh, but if Principal Smith knows you were kicked out, that’ll help.”
I shrug. “Whatever.”
“All right.”
Thomas leads me through the huge glass doors at the front of the school. There’s a group of kids hanging out near the front, and each of them waves to Thomas as he passes by. I guess their Christmas break is already over. Back home we still had another week left to go.
“Thought you were sick today, Mr. Waller?” one of them says.
Thomas waves back at them. “Nope, just had some stuff to handle.”
I try to follow far enough behind Thomas so maybe the other students won’t make a connection between us, but the way their eyes drop from him to me tells me that they already have. He leads me through another set of glass doors into the front office, waving at the secretary behind the desk. “Hey, Kev.”
“Hey, Thomas. Principal Smith’s already waiting for you,” he says.
“Thanks.” Thomas turns to me. “You wait out here for a second. I’m going to explain the situation to her.”
“Okay.” I take a seat in one of the plush armchairs up against the glass dividers of the office. “Don’t tell her. Please?” I say under my breath.
“I swear,” he assures me, and something about the way he says this tells me to believe him.
I watch Thomas as he vanishes around the corner, waiting to pull my phone out of my pocket, before I remember it isn’t there. I’ll need to talk to Hannah about getting a replacement, though I’m not really sure how I’m going to pay for it. Maybe I can get a job somewhere, start saving up too. I don’t really know what Hannah’s offered. If she’s only planning on letting me stay until graduation, or as long as I need to.
Then there’s college, and the letters that’ll decide my entire future. Letters that’ll be delivered to Mom and Dad’s house because that was the address I put on all those applications. I wonder if there’s anyone I can talk to at the schools, ask to be sent another letter. Or maybe I’ll have to apply all over again.
God, I don’t want to even imagine having to pay for it. I can’t ask Hannah to do that; I don’t want Hannah to do that for me. Maybe that’s some kind of blessing in disguise, Mom and Dad were definitely more excited about me going to college than I was.
Maybe now I don’t have to worry about it anymore.
I guess we still have a lot to discuss, but how am I supposed to basically ask my sister when she’s planning on kicking me out?
I’m getting antsy, and now isn’t the time to think about this stuff, but I can’t get my mind to focus on anything else. Every time I glance up at the clock above the door, it’s like time slows down, which is only adding to the torture.
And then the door swings open, and a boy walks in.
He’s tall—much taller than me, tall enough that his legs are the first things I notice—with a skinny frame and dark brown skin, black hair buzzed shorter on the sides so the top sticks out a little more.
“Hi, Kev,” he says with a smile.
“Hey, Nathan.” The secretary behind the desk smiles back. “Not in any trouble, are we?”
“I knew my street racing days would catch up with me.” This kid, Nathan, laughs like it’s his favorite thing in the world to do. “Principal Smith called for me.”
“You specifically?” Kev raises an eyebrow. “Must be some special occasion.”
“Maybe my status as a model student is finally getting recognized.”
“Hilarious.” Kev doesn’t laugh. “Well, she’s in a meeting right now, so just take a seat, shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“Cool.” Nathan takes the seat next to me, crossing one long leg over the other, and rests his hands in his lap. It takes just a few seconds for him to break the silence. “Are you new? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” He adjusts the way he’s sitting so he can sort of face me.
“Yeah, um, just moved here.” I shuffle my feet, my socks falling farther down the backs of my feet.
“Nice. I’m Nathan.” He sticks out a hand.
I take it slowly but don’t shake, and I don’t really know why. It’s like my brain is falling behind the rest of my body. “Ben.”
“So where are you from, Ben?”
“Here.” I answer before I realize what I’m really saying. “Or, not here, but I am from North Carolina,” I sputter. Dammit, I can’t even get this right. “Goldsboro, I’m from Goldsboro,” I finally say.
“Oh.” To his credit, he doesn’t laugh at how much of a walking disaster I am. “So not too far out?”
“Yeah.”
“Ben.” Thomas saves me from any further embarrassment. “Principal Smith’s ready to see you.”
“Hey, Mr. W!” Nathan perks up in his seat. “Thought you were out today?”
“Hey, Nathan, just helping Ben with something.” Thomas tucks his hands into his pockets. “What’re you doing here?”
“Principal Smith called me in.”
“Oh,” Thomas says, looking a little confused before he glances my way again. “Come on in, Ben, she’s waiting.”
“Good luck, Ben, hope to see you around.” Nathan grins at me.
“Thanks,” I say, giving him a quiet smile back before I follow Thomas down the hallway.
Principal Smith has a slow way of explaining things that I really appreciate, because all this information feels like it’s going in one ear and out the other.
There are about two dozen documents to read over and fill out. Forms to get me back into my classes, authorization for a school ID, cafeteria account information, classes to sign up for.
It’s all so confusing.
“Will Ben still be on track to graduate?” I can tell Thomas is watching his pronoun use, which I appreciate more than he probably realizes.
“We won’t know until we get his transcripts and grades, but I’m guessing he will be. Our school system operates similarly to his former one.”
His.
No, I can’t be angry, or upset. This was my choice, and that isn’t allowed, not right now.
“How soon could I start?” I ask.
“Tomorrow if you wanted, provided the papers are faxed over in a timely manner. Thankfully it’s the start of a new semester, so you won’t have too much trouble catching up in your classes.”
“Ben’s a smart kid.” Thomas pats my shoulder. I want to take the compliment, but we’ve known each other for all of about two hours in total now.
“So, what do you say, Ben? Would you be okay with that?” Principal Smith asks me.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Good.” She pulls out a manila folder and stuffs inside all the papers she’s laid out for me. “If you two want to review the documents real quick, fill them out, and just sign where each page tells you.”
“Come on, we’ll go to the teachers’ lounge, should be empty.” Thomas takes the folder.
“Oh and, Thomas? Can you send in Nathan, please?” Principal Smith asks.
“Sure thing.” Thomas holds the door to the office for me. “Nathan, Mrs. Smith is ready for you now.” Nathan’s typing away on his phone when Thomas calls for him.
He gives Thomas a mock salute and jumps out of his seat, giving me a smirk and a wink as we cross paths. Yep. He’s definitely taller than me, at least a full head, and maybe more. I try to smile back, but I’m sure it comes off as creepy more than anything else. I follow Thomas down the hall to a door just outside what looks like an empty cafeteria. He types a code into this keypad, and there’s a distinct click before he pushes it open.
A hell of a lot fancier than Wayne.
Filling out paperwork is even more tedious than it sounds. There are questions I don’t know the answers to, some that make me feel totally useless, some I’m worried I’m answering in the wrong way because the wording is confusing. If Thomas wasn’t here to help, I would be up a creek. But forty-five minutes later, we finish and march right back to Principal Smith’s office.
“Excellent.” Mrs. Smith takes the papers. “And I’ve contacted your old school, and they’re going to fax over the rest of your papers today. I’ll call you tonight if there are any problems, Thomas, but it looks like Ben is North Wake’s newest student.” Mrs. Smith sounds way too excited about this, but I guess I should be grateful she didn’t turn me down without question.
Thomas puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Oh, and I’ve assigned someone to help show you around. Nathan Allan. He said you two met in the waiting room?”
“Yeah. Sort of.”
“He’s going to meet you here in the office tomorrow morning, so get here a little earlier than you normally would.”
“Got it. We’ll be here bright and early.” Thomas moves toward the door. “Thank you, Diane.”
“No problem. And, Ben, welcome to North Wake.”
I don’t talk during the drive home. Thomas wants to, apparently, but he gets the message pretty quickly.
“You can take the bus, or you can ride with me if you want.”
Nothing.
He chuckles awkwardly. “You’ll have to wake up about an hour earlier if you want me to take you though.”
I don’t answer him. Really, I don’t mind either way, but I’d prefer riding with Thomas. Buses suck.
But I just don’t feel like talking. Not right now. Thomas probably thinks I’m some asshole. He takes me in, gets me into a new school the day after my parents kick me out, and here I am, ignoring him.
Maybe Hannah is right. Maybe I do need counseling. I just feel so … drained.
By the time we make it back to their house, Hannah is gone, her spot in the garage empty. “I’m going to work on some lesson plans. You can relax in the living room or do whatever. There’s food in the kitchen if you get hungry. Nothing’s off-limits, so don’t hesitate.” Thomas drops his keys in a bowl by the door.
I retrace my steps back into the living room and take the same seat on the couch as before, pulling out the laptop. A few seconds after booting it up, the notifications start going wild. It’s Mariam.
Mariam: Benji???? What’s up???
Mariam: Don’t go ignoring me kiddo, don’t tell me you got your phone taken away again???
Mariam: Helloooooooo?
Mariam: Is everything okay Benji?
Mariam: B E N J A M I N????
That’s Mariam for you.
Me: Hey
I figure out the time zones between North Carolina and California in my head; at three hours behind they’ll probably be getting out of bed by now. Mariam is a total night owl, which usually means they are up by ten at the earliest.
Mariam: How we doing today???
Me: Not good.
I consider lying to Mariam, no reason to make them worry. But they’d figure it out one way or the other. If not now, then the next time we FaceTime and they don’t recognize my new bedroom.
Mariam: Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?
Me: I came out to my mom and dad.
Mariam: Oh no…
Me: They kicked me out
Me: I’m with my sister now
Mariam: Fuck…
Mariam: The sister that your parents hate?
Me: The very one.
Mariam: Ben, I’m so sorry, I don’t even know what to say.
Mariam: So what’s the plan?
Me: I have no clue. I got enrolled in this other school, but other than that…
Me: Just trying to figure things out, get going again.
Mariam: Oh Ben… I feel so useless. I wish I knew what to say to you right now.
Me: It’s fine, there’s really nothing you can do.
Mariam: No, it’s not fine. I’m so… angry, sad.
Even trying to make a joke feels empty right now, but before I can stop myself, my fingers are typing it out automatically.
Me: I think they call that smad.
Mariam: Don’t make me laugh right now, please.
Mariam: Oh god, okay
Mariam: Listen I have to go get ready for a meeting. But I’ll message you the second I’m out. I love you Benji. So much. <3
Me: Love you too.
I close the laptop and tuck it away, ignoring the growl in my stomach. Thomas said to help myself to food, but I don’t think he realizes just how awkward that’ll be. I can wait.
If I have to.
I try to waste time flipping through the channels on the TV, but nothing’s catching my eye. After another hour, I check my messages again, but Mariam hasn’t responded, so I pull up their YouTube channel and pick a video at random, watching with the volume low since I don’t have my headphones. Doesn’t matter, they caption all their videos.
I feel myself relaxing. That weird weight on my chest feels a little lighter right now. Like I can actually breathe for the first time in hours. I found Mariam’s channel on a message board for trans and nonbinary teens after I’d started questioning my own identity and spent a whole night binging their videos and vlogs. Mariam talked about pretty much anything and everything. From immigrating to the United States from Bahrain, to coming out to their family, to dating as a nonbinary person.
Their videos are the reason I know what I identify as, and when I finally mustered the courage to come out to someone, it was Mariam. That was a super awkward night. In fact, I made a Twitter account just to talk to them. But they worked me through it, and we just kept talking until we realized we shared a mutual love for Steven Universe. Hell, they’re one of the few people who I let call me Benji.
I can hear the door swing open, and Hannah comes barreling through from the garage, plastic bags hanging from her fingers and wrists. “Ben? Thomas? Y’all back yet?”
“In here,” I say, but I don’t think she hears me.
From the sound of it, she’s moving down the hall right into the kitchen. I hear her grunt, and then something lands on the counter with a thud. What in the fresh hell? I slip past the still-swinging door, staring at everything Hannah’s laid out.
“What is all this?” I ask, staring at the bags sporting the big red Target logo.