I wrote a message to my parents. Just so you know, I’m going to study at Meeples with a friend. I wasn’t asking for permission, exactly, but I knew it would fly better if I looped them in. Me not coming home after school would result in ever-escalating texts and phone calls if I didn’t check in. Better to send off prior warning.
Malik replied right after I sent the text to my parents.
I can crash it?
I sent him a thumbs-up emoji. Then I watched him look at his phone, and I have to admit, it was sort of fun to watch him react to the little ping sound and know I was the one who sent it. Although it wasn’t a ping. It was some sort of riff of notes that I’d never heard before. It was borderline metal. I imagined the little message bubble popping up from “Bullet” with that noise, and I had never felt cooler.
He smiled at his phone, finished his goodbyes with his friends, and typed again.
See you there.
I grabbed my stuff, and if I was moving faster than I had before, it was because I intended to master derivatives and ace my exams.
Totally.
* * *
Candice brought me my hot chocolate and my lemon bar, and I’d finished half of both before the little bell on the door turned out to be Malik. He did this nod-and-smile thing in my direction, and I waved my fingers at him in this totally casual way that would have been so much more effective if I hadn’t knocked my fork off my plate in the process.
By the time I got over being mortified and got my cutlery back under control, he was sitting down across from me. He put down his backpack and pulled out a binder and his textbook.
“How are you at world history?” He sounded hopeful.
“Nope.” I shook my head. “Sorry. I left history behind as soon as I could.”
He sighed. “Smart. What are you doing?”
“Mostly? I’m trying to remember why I thought calculus was a good idea.”
He grimaced. “Ugh. You can have it. I’ll stick to history.”
“Right?”
Candice came over. “Study night?”
“Exams soon,” I said. “This is Malik.”
“You were here the other night,” Candice said. “I remember. Did you like the lemon bar?”
“It was epic,” he said. “But Cole said I should try the date square. And may I have a mocha, please?”
“Coming right up,” Candice said. “You still good, Cole?”
“Yes, thanks.”
Malik was quiet for a second, then he reached out and tapped my bullet journal. “So, is this the gun book?”
I could feel my face getting hot. My bullet journal wasn’t like some of the ones I’d seen online. I didn’t go crazy with washi tape or anything, but it was still a bullet journal. “Yeah.” And then, because it felt kind of like I should, I flipped it open to the bookmark of the latest to-do page I was working through. “Behold me in all my nerdy glory.”
He looked. “So, it’s mostly to-do lists?”
“Sort of. It’s a system. It’s streamlined. You don’t start over every day so much as you keep going. There’s eighteen lines, so until you need to turn a page you don’t rewrite anything. I’m at the bottom of the page now with this one, so tomorrow, if I add another, it’s like starting fresh.”
The more I spoke, the less cool I sounded. I let it drop. Candice came back with his square and his mocha, and winked at me. I had no idea what that meant, but since Malik was still looking at my journal and I’m just that much of a geek, I explained how the index worked, the calendar pages, the various lists I kept track of favorites and stuff I wanted to remember. I tried not to stutter while he flipped the book around to face him—I hadn’t expected him to really look.
He lifted his gaze. “Check in with Sportsball Star?”
Oops. Right. I shrugged. “Like I said, I’m a nerd.”
He looked back down at the list again. I reached over and turned the pages back until…There. “See? The Louvre.” My top five lists page. Places I’d been. Places I wanted to go. Favorite books. Favorite movies. “Behold my sad glory.”
“Hey, did you draw this?” Malik said, turning the journal back around. It was just a sketch I’d drawn of the glass pyramid in front of the Louvre, and it had turned out pretty well. I’d copied it off a picture I’d found online.
“Sort of,” I said. “I had a photo I was looking at.”
“You can draw,” he said.
“I like to draw. I had art last semester.” I shrugged. “But I can only draw stuff I’m looking at. I can’t do it from memory or anything.”
“I can’t even do stick figures.”
“Yeah, but you can put the sportsball into the point-scoring areas.”
He laughed. He took a bite of his date square and made a little grunting noise.
“Do I lie,” I said. “Or is that an epic date square?”
He nodded, chewing.
I closed my bullet journal and leaned back in my chair. My binder was open, as was my textbook, but frankly the last thing I cared about at that moment was derivatives. Malik finished his date square and opened his own book. Not only had his hoodie returned, he shoved his hands into the pocket while he read, I noticed, only pulling one out to turn the page when he needed to.
Okay. Ignore the hoodie—also the cute boy in the hoodie—and get to work.
We studied for a while. I don’t know how much sank into my head, but I made it through my notes and did a couple of problems and achieved the correct answer, so I was calling it a win. After I checked one and saw I’d gotten the third correct answer in a row, I heard a little snort and looked up to see Malik staring at me. It looked like he was trying not to laugh.
“What?” I said.
“When you get one right, you cheer for yourself.”
With horror, I realized he was right. I’d been making little applause noises under my breath, like a cheering crowd, every time I got a problem right. This was why I didn’t study in public. I had no idea what to say or do. Maybe I could tip my chair over backward and knock myself out.
“Sorry. I’ll try to keep it down. Some of us aren’t routinely cheered on sportsball fields and have to make our own fans.”
He laughed. He actually laughed. If only Grayson were here to witness me telling a joke.
I took the last swallow of my not-even-a-little-bit-hot chocolate and glanced at my phone. Holy crap. We’d been here for an hour already. Time flew when you were bored to tears. I looked around and saw people playing games at a couple of the tables. I’d tuned them out, and even if Monday nights weren’t exactly super-happening at Meeples, Candice seemed to be moving around with purpose.
“Can I ask you something?” Malik said.
I nodded.
“Does it ever…bother you?” he said. “Being…” He didn’t finish the sentence.
I took a deep breath. I knew what he meant, of course. I wasn’t sure if there was a right answer. I was pretty sure I knew what Nat would say. If in doubt? Honesty. “Sometimes, yes.”
He looked surprised.
I shrugged. “Not in a ‘I wish I wasn’t gay’ way. Not that. Just…” I tried to find the right words. “It’s the little stuff, I guess. I mean, okay, also all the big stuff, but that’s obvious. The little stuff is more exhausting cause it’s all the time.”
He shook his head.
“Okay, examples. Last year? I went on a date with this guy. Louis. He was at Deaf camp with me, another counsellor. We could go into town on some of the weekends, kind of like a day off, and we organized one together after he found out I thought he was cute and he agreed that he was cute.”
Malik’s eyebrow slid up. “So, he was humble.”
“A world of no. But it was a good practice for a real date, I guess. At least, that’s what I tell myself. And we did have fun. Just a coffee shop and then a walk around the town. Nothing major, right?”
Malik nodded.
“Except when we were in the coffee shop, the barista was watchi
ng us sign. We’d drawn attention, I guess. I was laughing a lot. Louis was funny. Anyway, when we were bringing over the cups once we were done, she sort of looked right through him and asked me, ‘Are you guys brothers?’”
“Did he look like you?”
“Ha! No. I guess I wasn’t clear when I say he was cute.” I shrugged. “No, I don’t get how anyone would think we were related. He’s blond and tall and has these amazing pretty eyes. Basically the whole checklist for the cover of some magazine. I am none of those things. But she asked, and it was really, really awkward. Like, first off she’d done that audist thing where she talked right past Louis like he was some sort of broken puppy.”
Malik shook his head. “Sorry, audist?”
“Hearing people do all sorts of stuff that’s just rude and dismissive of Deaf people. That’s the word for it. Audist. Like racist, or sexist, or whatever.”
“Ah.”
“So, first there was that,” I said. “Louis had no idea she’d said anything, and I was standing there thinking, ‘Do I out us?’ Like, she asked if we were brothers, so I had a built-in option to just agree. I could say we were, because who cares, right? Except I do care. I mean, I’m not as vocal as Grayson, but I care. So I said, ‘No, we’re on a date.’”
“Okay.”
I shook my head. “Not okay. She got all embarrassed. Like, she started stuttering out this half-ass apology. By then, Louis noticed something was going on, and he was asking me what she’d said, and I’m trying to sign some sort of précis of her verbal vomit, and she flips out all over again because she doesn’t know what I’m signing to him, and now she thinks I’m badmouthing her. ‘I don’t judge people, you can be anything and love anyone and that’s okay by me,’ and so on. She was so loud. The rest of the customers were staring.” I shook my head. “It was so awkward. We got out of there, and we took our walk, but the whole time I was thinking about it. It’s stuff like that that bugs me. Like, the constant assumption I’m not something different until I say so, which means I have to choose to say so, which means it’s all on me. Does that make sense?”
He nodded again. “Sounds familiar.”
“It does?”
“Where are you from?” Malik said, in a chipper voice that could have been mocking pretty much anyone. “If I say ‘Toronto,’ it’s like people think I’m lying. They’ll say, ‘No, I mean before.’”
“Ouch,” I said.
He shrugged. “It’s a thing. Sometimes I say Wakanda. People pretend to know it.”
I gaped. “You’re kidding.”
He shook his head. “Not even a little.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “My king.”
He laughed. Then he sighed. “I miss Toronto.”
“I don’t blame you. This place is small. But! We’re almost done with it, and you can go anywhere you want after. Toronto, even.”
“You have this bright-side outlook, you know that?”
“Relentless optimism. It’s my thing.”
“Really?”
I shook my head. “No. Not even a little bit. But it sounded better than ‘I can’t wait to get out of this town, either.’”
Another eyebrow. Between the brown eyes and the smile and the eyebrow thing, it took me a second to remember to breathe. It was so wrong to crush out on him when he was just kinda-sorta coming out. So wrong. But the eyebrow.
“Why do you want to leave?” he said.
“Mostly? Colenap. I’d like to be somewhere where nobody knows about Colenap.”
“Ah.”
“And to further answer your question, also I’d like to be somewhere where I can kiss a guy without checking over my shoulder first,” I said. “I mean, not that this place is bad, but self-defense classes or not, I’m no Black Panther. Or Captain America. I’m pretty sure I’m not even Bruce Banner.” I shook my head. “Honestly, I’m not sure there’s a real place like that. Yet. Anyway.”
“The Village,” Malik said. “Church, Yonge.”
“See? Toronto. It’s the place to be.”
“What about Louis?” Malik asked. “Any…kissing?”
Okay. He’d kind of stuttered there and it was awkward, but it was also adorable that he asked. I shook my head. “Not really. We just had that one date. I mean, yeah, there was a kiss, but…Meh? He has a girlfriend now.”
The eyebrow rose again.
“I keep telling you,” I said. “Boys and girls. It’s allowed.”
He bit his lip.
“What?” I said, readying more support for the existence of bisexuals. I’d done my homework. I didn’t have any sports-type heroes to suggest, but I had a whole list of actors and actresses. You get to feel how you feel, I thought. It’s allowed. You’re allowed.
Something happened. He looked up quickly, like I’d just said something, but I hadn’t. Goosebumps broke out across my skin.
I swallowed.
That…What was that?
Malik blinked, like he’d lost his train of thought, nodding at my journal. “It said to check on Alec and his date?”
“Oh. Yeah.” Conversational whiplash. Man. Maybe I shouldn’t have flashed my to-do lists at him. It struck me he hadn’t looked farther than my latest to-do list page, which was good. The flip side had my ongoing issues with teleportation list. That would have been problematic to explain. Also, I was glad I’d scribbled though my note to myself to give him a slap.
“I thought…” he said.
I shook my head. It wasn’t my place to out Alec’s asexuality, but I could definitely be clear that we weren’t dating. “No. He’s my best friend. Since we were kids.”
He nodded.
“Refills?” Candice said, coming by with perfect timing.
“Yes, please,” I said, and Malik echoed me. She took our cups away.
Malik smiled again, and then he got back to his history textbook. I went back to calculus, though for a good long while I wasn’t even aware of derivatives. Truth be told, I was thinking about dates and kisses and what was fast becoming the world’s cutest eyebrow.
* * *
“Okay,” Candice said, coming over to wipe the table. “Dish.”
Malik had left. I’d waffled over asking him if he wanted company on the walk home and hadn’t offered, which I now regretted. He’d done this thing where he’d patted my shoulder as he left and now I was wondering if I was a complete idiot, or just shy of all the pieces.
“Sorry?” I said, snapping back.
“Boy is cute. Boy is sitting with you for two hours, and sneaking looks at you when you’re not looking at him. Dish.”
“What?” My voice did this squeaky thing. “No. He’s…I mean. Really? Are you sure?”
“Aw, honey.” Candice laughed at me.
“It’s just…He’s really cool,” I said, trying to explain. “He’s, like, one of the best athletes at school.” I couldn’t express this clearly enough. “When he throws balls, they go where he wants them to. I think schools are willing to give him money because he does it so well.”
“Wow,” Candice said. Her lips were kind of wiggling. I didn’t think she was treating this information with the correct level of respect. “I guess that makes him royalty, then?”
“He’s a friend,” I said. “Trust me.” But I could feel my skin getting hot. Who was I trying to convince here?
“Cole,” Candice said. “I couldn’t hear everything he was saying, but I heard some of it. Do me a favor. Ask yourself if you think he has those conversations with his other friends. Or if he’d hang out with them for a couple of hours in my shop. Doing homework.”
Then she patted my arm and was gone.
Yeah. So that just happened.
I packed up, paid up, and paused at the door long enough to wave. I had to concentrate hard on not going anywhere but outside. It worked, and I started the walk home.
This door thing was not getting better. This time it felt like little popping fireworks were on the other side of Meeples’s door. Go
d only knew what that meant, and I so didn’t want to find out. Also, had Candice really just suggested that Malik—?
A full-body shudder hit me so hard it made me stop walking. It wasn’t someone walking over my grave so much as it was someone leading a parade there. My heart jacked up to a hummingbird pace. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
I slid my hand into my pocket and grabbed my phone. As casually as I could, I pretended I’d just gotten a text or something, then pulled up the camera. I counted to five, skin still crawling, then turned around, lifted the phone, and took a bunch of pictures.
To his credit, the guy with the beard didn’t run away or anything. He just stood in front of Meeples, watching me take his photo.
When I finally lowered my phone, he turned and walked away in the other direction.
“Okay,” I said. “Officially freaking out.”
I looked at my phone. None of the shots were great, but if I zoomed in enough, at least I could tell he was the same man from at school. I turned off the phone and headed for home. This wasn’t Colenap Stranger Danger spidey-sense gone awry.
That man was following me.
To-Do
Bearded rando. Sub? Talk to principal?
Cole the Teenage Freak
X Concentrate at doors. All the doors. Every time. You got this!
Locked doors. One way?
X Blood sugar? Hungry? Definitely hungry.
CARRY YOUR PHONE.
Doors. Again. You don’t got this.
No door required for exit?
Pull getting stronger. Bad? Good?
Popping thing. Like fireworks.
Fifteen
I kept it to two snoozes and hopped into the shower more or less on time. I’d had a crappy night’s sleep, my head racing from one thing to another until I finally crashed out somewhere around two in the morning, and now I was feeling it. The shower helped, so I let the water beat on my face for a few minutes longer, then I turned it off and started drying myself.
I didn’t really know what to do about Beardy McBeardface. I mean, sure, he wigged me out, and last night he was one of the things I’d been overthinking. I’d come to the conclusion I didn’t exactly have a lot to go on. I mean, he looked at me. That wasn’t exactly a crime, right? But it was creepy. I thought about telling my parents for roughly a millisecond before common sense reminded me they were likely to overreact to the nth over any potential threat, so that was out.
Exit Plans for Teenage Freaks Page 11