“How can they get away with so much? It’s just overwhelming.”
“You haven’t seen Hannah’s sweater. She’s a literal walking Christmas tree.”
“But she can pull it off. I don’t know. I just don’t do the holidays at all.”
“Even with your mom?” Julian asked, remembering Magda’s Jewish traditions he sometimes got to witness when he was younger. “Are you guys doing anything?”
“Typical stuff. Menorah. Dinner. Movies. You know.” Aiden shrugged, then finally took his hands out of his pockets. “I actually have a present for you.”
“You do? I don’t….”
“It’s okay. You didn’t know I was coming. I didn’t even think I’d come until Maria messaged me on Facebook.”
“Oh no. What did she say?”
Aiden waved his hand in the air, brushing the question aside. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small red gift that was maybe about the size of a paperback book. How he managed to fit it inside his pants pocket was a mystery to Julian, though he supposed that boys’ pants pockets were bigger than girls’. He’d get to know that on a more visceral level as soon as he could.
“Here.” Aiden extended the gift to him. In Julian’s hands, it was definitely a book. He could feel the sharp corners of a hardback and the thickness of pages. He tore open the paper with his fingers nearly numb from the cold. A worn copy of Around the World in Eighty Days stared back at him, complete with a hot-air balloon on the cover. It had the musty smell of a used book, and when Julian opened the cover he saw the publication date with wide eyes.
“I think this is a first edition,” Aiden said. “But I really don’t know about these things.”
“It is. Oh my goodness, Aiden. I can’t take this. It’s too much.”
“No, it’s not. It’s yours. When am I going to reread this? I’m not the reading type. You, on the other hand, are perfectly suited for this. Maybe quite literally, Julian.” Aiden emphasized his name with a laugh. “You really are a nerd. Taking a dead sci-fi author as your name.”
“I am not a nerd.”
Julian nudged Aiden playfully in the arm. Aiden nudged him back, laughing under his breath. When their bodies touched, Julian felt the same charged atmosphere between them. The sparks. Knowing they were made of the same thing. And in Aiden’s eyes, he saw it too. Only now, he didn’t run away. He didn’t look afraid.
“I wanted to get you something else,” Aiden said. “Like razors or a tie or something like that. But I figured this was more appropriate. Maybe next Christmas?”
“Yeah. Maybe by then I’ll have something.” Julian touched his chin where he hoped something would grow one day. A beard—he wanted that, to try it out, at least once. But that would require testosterone, and that would require parental permission. There was the therapist on the twenty-ninth of December, and seeing Mr. Fisher again the same day. There was still a lot of time—almost too much—until that first hair would show through.
“Sounds good, then. I’m glad we have a deal.”
“Yeah, but I hope I’ll see you before next Christmas,” Julian commented. “It would kind of suck seeing you once a year like that.”
“I know.” Aiden was quiet again, attempting to be stoic.
Julian sighed. “You can hang out with us, you know. I’m starting to think we’re a regular Breakfast Club at this point. Even though none of us are ever really there on time enough to eat breakfast at the school.”
“That’s not what that movie is about,” Aiden said, laughing. “Oh, wow. You haven’t seen it, have you?”
Julian blushed, then shook his head. “I should too, because I’m pretty sure it’s Maria’s favorite.”
“Oh, man. You really do need to see it now. Bad boyfriend if you don’t.”
“Right, I suppose I would be,” Julian said, beaming at the term “boyfriend.” From Aiden of all people. Julian placed a hand over his chest, as if to quiet his heart. “Aiden. Not to worry you, but I can’t feel my fingers.”
“Good, because I can’t feel my ears. Should we go inside now? Or at least the stairwell?”
Julian nodded, though he wanted to stay out a bit longer. He wanted to see more Christmas lights get strung up in people’s apartment windows and hear more stories from Aiden. He wanted to ask him about his band and encourage him to keep playing music. But at least there’s the promise of the future, Julian thought. They hadn’t had that in a long time. And what’s the point of science fiction, if you can’t think about the future?
As Aiden held the door for him, Julian glanced down at the book. “Thanks again for this. I really appreciate it.”
“Not at all.”
By the time they reached the conference room again, Julian was surprised to see Maria hanging out all by herself in front of the doorway. The snacks had been packed up, and no more music was playing.
“Is everything okay?” Julian asked.
Maria shrugged. “Yep. But we packed it in when a drunk person from a different party crashed ours. It’s getting late anyway. So,” she said, turning toward Aiden. “How are you two?”
“Good,” Julian said, then turned toward Aiden. “Right?”
“Right. But Maria, Julian hasn’t seen The Breakfast Club. Are you aware of this?”
“What?” Maria shrieked. She wrapped her arms around Julian and playfully shoved him. “This is just unacceptable. This is just….”
Julian squirmed under her touch, loving and hating every minute of it. Aiden was laughing, and that was what mattered. They both teased him for another couple of minutes, before Hannah appeared at the other end of the hallway.
“There you guys are! My brother’s waiting. Who needs rides?”
Everyone put up their hand. Even though Hannah rolled her eyes, she ushered everyone over. As they walked out the doorway, Maria tugged on Hannah’s sleeve.
“Were you aware that Julian has never seen The Breakfast Club?”
Hannah shrieked this time, then made a horrified face. “Well, this is just an excuse to fix this issue, then. We’ll have a movie night—I’m thinking 1980s classics—and watch some every weekend after the New Year.”
“Since when are you the party planner?” Maria asked.
“Fine. I’m the DJ, then. Oh, we have to watch Pretty In Pink. The songs are so good!”
Maria nodded, then squeezed her arm tighter around Julian. “Good. I like this plan. Now that the Christmas stuff is over, we have this to look forward to. Everyone’s invited.”
Julian didn’t mention that Christmas wasn’t exactly over. They’d still have to deal with it in four days, with their families or whatever else they had going on. Julian felt a preemptive pang that he wouldn’t get to spend as much time with Maria over the holiday, since her entire family did midnight Mass and were usually super busy. So Julian merely laughed along, not wanting to complicate anything that made Maria so happy.
“Are you in too, Aiden?” Hannah asked, just as her brother pulled around.
“Yeah,” Aiden said, looking from Julian to Maria. “I think so.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
WHEN JULIAN woke up on Christmas morning, he was greeted with a familiar dampness, and a pain in his abdomen.
Oh no. Not again. He rolled over on his side, using the blanket as a small fort for privacy, and pulled down his pajama pants to see if what he suspected was really there. When red stains stared up at him, he sighed. It had been a while—definitely longer than a month—since his last period. Inconsistency at the beginning of his cycle was to be expected, he had been told, but part of Julian had almost wondered if he’d managed to wish it away. But no such luck. After changing into different pajamas (since it was Christmas, and he was not getting dressed until at least 2:00 p.m.), he went to the bathroom to take some Tylenol from the medicine cabinet. His skin felt hot as he found his small stash of pads and fixed himself up. He hated this, he really did, and he also wished he didn’t.
When his parents
shuffled around in the next room, he glanced down at his phone he had tucked into his gigantic hoodie. Eight in the morning. His mother walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, while Julian caught his father in the hallway as he stepped out of the bathroom. His dad wore a gray T-shirt over plaid pajama pants and had a massive case of bed head. His dad held up a hand in a small wave as he half yawned a greeting.
“Merry Christmas,” Damien said, the sleep still thick in his throat.
“Yeah, you too.” Julian smiled, liking how utterly disheveled his dad looked. It had been such a rare occurrence the past few days, with his dad constantly in suits for council meetings, that Julian could almost ignore his minor humiliation this morning. Today’s Christmas. No one cares about anything right now, so why should you? Julian’s family wasn’t religious, but they took the time off work seriously, and even Sarah wasn’t going to be attempting to study. She’d probably stay in her pj’s, right alongside Damien and Julian, and read whatever books she had gotten under the tree. There was no Santa now, obviously, but Julian could almost allow the magic of the day to linger a little longer.
“Well,” his dad said, slightly awkward at the top of the stairs. “I’ll see you in a sec. Maybe your mom will be making us pancakes?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sarah said, clearly overhearing Damien’s request. “I’ll get to it. But first, coffee.”
“Can I have some?” Julian asked, meaning the coffee. He followed his father down the stairs and into the kitchen. The tree was heavy with presents and baubles. Sarah must have also turned on the small lights, since they flickered in the morning sun.
“Really? You need coffee to stay up today?” Damien asked.
“Probably not. But… I want it.” Julian wanted to add I want to drink it with both of you, but he only shrugged instead. “Not like I have to rush to the presents anymore. There’s no Santa, so we can take our time.”
“Ah, good point,” Damien said, nodding. When Sarah handed Julian the first mug from the pot and directed him toward the sugar and milk, he smiled.
“Thanks.”
As Julian made his cup, he noticed his parents exchange worried glances. At first Julian’s heart rate climbed, wondering if he had somehow broken a rule. But they didn’t press, so Julian just chalked up their stiff backs and flashes of anxiety to whatever Christmas had in store.
While his parents chatted about what relatives to skype later that day, Julian took a long swallow of coffee. He anticipated that the contents of his stocking would be much the same as other years: a lot of lip glosses, bath stuff, and maybe a couple of nice gift cards. In the wrapped presents, there would be some clothing drawn from the girls’ section, with maybe a couple of T-shirts from bands Julian liked. He shook his head, not wanting to dwell on those things, especially when he was really lucky to begin with. He thought instead of the sci-fi novels he had gotten for his father and the Bath and Body Works set he would give to his mom. That was the positive side of gift-giving, right? What you got other people. Julian repeated this again and again, trying to remember.
“Should we start?” Sarah asked, after she had collected the plates, sticky with syrup and leftover pancakes.
“What do you think, J?” Damien asked, turning toward him.
“Sure,” Julian said. “May as well begin.”
Again, more worried exchanges between the two of them. Julian tried to ignore his own nerves as he walked over to the armchair by the tree and picked up the stocking with the J embroidered at the top. His father sat across from him on the sofa, Sarah taking up a spot right next to him. She handed out their stockings, then turned to Julian to begin.
Julian sighed, already seeing candy at the top of his.
“Oh, thank you!” he cried, trying to be genuine. He didn’t want to seem like an ungrateful person—he really didn’t—but it was so much easier to detach himself from the gifts than read too much into them and get disappointed. As he reached a hand in deeper, he found a pair of socks in dark blue. When he pulled them out, they looked like any other pair he’d seen before—then he noticed the sticker on the heel. Men’s. “Oh. Did I grab your stocking, Dad?”
Damien held up his own with a D embroidered on the top. “Nope, J. That’s definitely yours. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, yes,” Julian said, smiling. He placed the socks by the candy and wondered if he’d have to give them over at the end of the day anyway, since there was clearly a mistake. He imagined his dad pulling out purple women’s socks from his stocking and snickered before he kept going.
When another set of socks from the men’s section and a pair of boxers came out, he stopped again. Okay. Weird. Sometimes Sarah let him buy boxers from the men’s section so he could wear them in the summer as sleeping shorts instead of pajamas, but she used to always insist on the girl underwear because of their practicality with his eventual periods. Julian had to admit that she was right about that, but he still wasn’t sure what was going on here. When he looked up at his mother and all she did was smile, Julian dug through the stocking more, trying to get answers. When he pulled out a pack of razors—not for his legs, but the blue plastic kind at the drugstore that came for men’s faces—Julian dug to the bottom of his stocking in a hurry. The final item, wrapped around two clementines, was a gold tie. Silky and nice, Julian touched it with reverence, then dropped it as if he had touched fire.
“What is this? What’s going on?”
“Do you not like it?” Sarah asked, wincing slightly.
Julian didn’t know how to respond to that. He stared at the socks, the underwear, and everything that he had wanted to get in his stocking, but never had before. Never thought he would before.
“What was it,” Damien said, speaking when Julian remained silent, “that you said about patterns? You know, from your science classes, Sarah?”
“One instance is an outlier, two is a common occurrence, but anything more than three is a pattern.”
“Yeah. I like that.” Damien paused. “There’s no mistake here, J. We bought these things for you because we realized you may appreciate them more. They were also a good addition to everything else.”
“But….” Julian eyed the boxes under the tree, large and bright and begging to be shaken so he could guess what was inside. His mind swarmed. His body reeled. And his eyes filled with tears. No way this is real. No way, no way. He touched his arm, pinching a large section of skin. Pain shot through him. He wanted to cry, because this was real, and it was happening to him.
“There’s more?” Julian asked. “More than the stocking? Of stuff like… this?”
“Of course,” Damien said, laughing. “What kind of parents do you take us for?”
Sarah laughed along with him, but her tone was a little more weak and thin. They glanced at one another again, their brows furrowed. They know, Julian realized. They know, and now they’re making up for lost time, or something equally foolish.
“How did… how did you find out?”
“About what?”
“That I wanted this stuff. That I’m….” Julian’s lip quivered. He could tell people so easily now—but people like Kent and Davis who he saw as equals. Telling his parents was still so, so scary. But they waited, quiet, for him to get the words out. They had made the leap of faith in buying him the guy stuff he had longed for and craved, but they wanted to hear it from his own mouth. They needed to confirm what they suspected, and Julian couldn’t be silent anymore. “That I’m trans. That I’m a boy. How did you know?”
“We didn’t. Not for sure,” Damien said, his eyes on the ground. He talked with his hands, gesturing like he sometimes did at meetings. “But we suspected.”
“But how? When?”
“Well, going into the boys’ bathroom tipped us off there. And not talking about it,” Sarah said. “As soon as we realized you weren’t attacked, we could start to think of other options or reasons why. But then I overheard you in your room one night. With one of your friends. One of you said
the word ‘transgender’ or something like that, and I realized I hadn’t thought of it before.”
“Me either. I knew what it was, but…,” Damien added, then stopped.
Julian blinked, feeling foolish. “God. I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize. Please. Don’t. I’m sorry I overheard and that you didn’t feel safe telling us,” Sarah said, her voice tinged with fear. “I should have been there for you. You could have told us.”
“Except that we didn’t know anything about this,” Damien added. “That’s what I meant before. I knew the word, but I had to spend hours reading about it online. So I understand why you didn’t say anything. We would have wanted you to, though.”
Julian nodded. Speaking was hard. Seeing was hard too, with the way his eyes kept watering. He blinked furiously, trying to keep his cool when confronted with all of this.
“I was going to tell you. I promise I was.”
“We believe you. It’s okay, J. Coming out is really hard, and it puts so much pressure on the person doing the speaking. I understand why it took you a while. The important thing is that we’re talking now. And talking is good.”
“Very good,” Sarah added, squeezing Damien’s hand. “We don’t like silence. We are so bad with silence.”
“Am I still in trouble?” Julian asked.
“No. You never were, not really. We were all just confused, J. It’s really…,” Sarah said, then added “hard” after a long space between her words.
Julian nodded along. The conversation felt like it was happening too fast and too slow at the same time. Their words were all jumbled, but Sarah was right. At least they were speaking again. They were talking. Julian had hated the silence that had fallen over the house after his suspension. It was the kind of quiet that meant bad things, like the cracking of eggshells. It was violent and awful, and he never wanted it to happen again.
“What we’re trying to say, J,” Damien went on, “is that there’s a lot we don’t know. There’s a lot of confusion, and we didn’t want to push you. But we’re glad that you’re telling us now. We’re glad that you like the presents. There’s more too. But I think I said that, right? I said that.” Damien let out a dry laugh, running his free hand through his hair.
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