by Sandy Hall
“Yes.”
His phone buzzes again. “Shit.”
“What is it?” I ask.
He opens his mouth and shakes his head.
“You know you can talk to me anytime too, right?” I say.
He pinches the bridge between his eyes. “I know.”
“So maybe soon we’ll both just…” I trail off, rolling my eyes at the thought. But then I continue. “We’ll both decide to trust each other again.”
“Maybe,” he says quietly, before backing out of the room.
Kyle
I take a few deep breaths before walking inside my house. The text from my mom said I needed to come home right now because there was a problem.
I go through a list of things that could be wrong. Things like one of my grandparents getting sick, my sisters getting hurt, or maybe my parents are getting a divorce. Maybe I jinxed the divorce thing by asking Gideon about his parents.
I go around in circles with worst-case scenarios for the sixty seconds it takes to get from Gideon’s house to my back door.
My parents are sitting in the kitchen waiting for me when I walk in, and I realize how stupid I am. This is about school. How could it be about anything besides school?
It makes me wonder if you can actually lose IQ points. Maybe that time I walked into a stop sign in seventh grade a few of them fell out of my head.
“Kyle,” my dad says as I walk in.
“I swear I’ll try harder!” I blurt out, interrupting, my anxiety about everything getting the better of me.
“Oh, sweetheart,” my mom says. “Have a seat.”
I sit.
“I got a call from your English teacher today,” my mom says.
I nod, gulping a little for air that seems to have left the kitchen. “I just want to say that I’ve worked really hard lately in English and I don’t know what the problem is, and I think it’s probably that Ms. Gupta is out to get me.”
“Kyle,” she says, her voice containing a note of unexpected warmth and sympathy even as I try to paint my perfectly nice English teacher as a villain. “Ms. Gupta thinks you might have an undiagnosed learning disability.”
“She does?” My stomach drops. “I thought I wasn’t applying myself or something. I didn’t think—I didn’t think that.”
“She called to discuss options with me. We’re going to have a meeting next week with Ms. Gupta, your guidance counselor, and a reading specialist. After that you’ll have to take some tests to figure out what’s going on. Those tests should be able to provide a clear picture of what kind of problems you might be having.”
I’m not as shocked as I would have expected. I think somewhere deep down inside, I’ve always known that I might be a little bit broken. I just never expected anyone else to notice.
Unfortunately, that thought doesn’t help the bubbling anxiety in my stomach as I think about taking these tests.
“But I’m doing okay,” I say. “I’m fine.”
“Oh, champ,” my dad says, calling me champ for the first time since I was about eight years old. “Of course you’re fine. But maybe if we figure out what kind of obstacles you have, you can find new ways to get past them, rather than banging your head against them over and over.”
“Did you ever suspect that something was wrong with me? How has this never come up before?” I feel a little panicked at the thought of what my new reality might look like.
“First of all, nothing is wrong with you,” my mom says. “But for the record, I never suspected you had any kind of learning disability, and no one’s ever said anything. You always needed a little extra push, but I figured it was because you were a firstborn. You didn’t have any brothers or sisters to model yourself after. But nothing’s wrong, Kyle. You’re not wrong.”
“Okay,” I say after taking a few more deep breaths.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” my dad says.
“We’re gonna figure this out,” my mom promises, patting my hand.
“But you’re definitely going to have to come directly home after school and work on your homework. I don’t want to see your grades slip any further,” my dad adds, before I can feel too good about the conversation. “You still have basketball camp this summer, and I don’t want you to jeopardize it.”
“So I’m being punished for possibly having a learning disability?” I ask, hearing the whine in my voice and hating it.
“You know that’s not what we’re doing,” my mom says.
They dismiss me after that, probably to talk about me further without me around. But I have to admit that I do feel a little lighter now that things are out in the open. Maybe everything is about to get a little bit easier.
twelve
Gideon
Playing with fire in chem class on a Friday afternoon should never be this boring. I’m not entirely sure why Mrs. Arnold even bothered bringing out the Bunsen burners. There was one thing that needed to be heated up. She could have done it herself and consolidated the flames.
And fine, maybe I’m a little bit scared of fire, but only because my classmates are all obviously morons. I don’t know why I decided to take AP Chemistry at the same time as AP Physics. I could have cut way down on my chances of being burned alive. But I just can’t help myself. I’m an overachiever.
I spend most of the period sitting alone at the lab table, because my partner is absent. I focus all my energy on thinking about Kyle. It’s really helping to distract me from worrying about the school catching on fire.
I still can’t stop thinking about my birthday, which feels like a million years ago even though it was just last weekend. And then I go back to Ruby. And Kyle’s face when he was in my room yesterday. And then I finish the circle by going back to thinking about my birthday.
What if Kyle likes me, too? He was making almost as much intense eye contact as I was. And it’s not like he’s homophobic. I don’t think that makes sense, to be bisexual and homophobic, but I guess anything is possible.
Furthermore, he’s the one who said at the beginning of the marathon that Elijah Wood was cute and then later told me that I remind him of Elijah Wood. If that’s not a pickup line, then I have no idea what a pickup line is.
On the other hand, why would he use a pickup line on me?
I have completely lost control over my life. The only thing I can control anymore is the low flame on my Bunsen burner.
I know I need to do something. I need to stop acting like Ruby has some big control over my life, when I know that she doesn’t. If I come out to Kyle and tell him I like him, then Ruby has no power over me.
Why does she want power over my life anyway? It’s not like I have so much going on. She should concentrate on her own life.
I close my eyes for the briefest of seconds and tell myself that I just need a sign. That something will happen that will set all this in motion. And if I don’t get a sign before June, I will definitely tell him over the summer. Or when he gets home from basketball camp. Or definitely before school starts next fall.
Maybe when Ruby leaves for college would be a good time.
Yes. Barring an act of God, I will wait until Ruby is safely installed at college before telling Kyle that I am gay, and in very deep like with him. This news will keep until then.
I happen to open my eyes at the very moment that this girl in my class, Bonnie, passes her lab papers improperly over the flames, and they get singed. She’s too dumb to realize they’re not actually on fire, so she drops them directly on the burner. Had she simply just thrown them to the side, everything would be fine.
Bonnie’s screaming her head off and Mrs. Arnold is running for the classroom emergency gas shutoff and I’m just sitting here stunned, considering that not three minutes ago I was thinking about this very scenario. Perhaps if I’ve really ruined my life, I can move into a new career as a psychic. I’m already living a fraudulent existence by not coming out of the closet; I could continue the pattern and take people’s money in exchange
for bogus fortunes.
Mike Maxwell puts the fire out by beating it with Bonnie’s backpack, and Bonnie just continues to sit there screaming her head off.
“I saw my whole life flash before my eyes!” she wails. “It was so boring!”
Her friend rubs her back, making cooing noises and trying to get her to calm down.
The next thing I know, Mrs. Arnold is yelling that she can’t get the gas off and all the burners flare up higher. I have the distinct feeling that my eyebrows are about to get singed off. I can’t stop myself from blocking them with my hands. As if my hands are really going to protect anything during a major gas fire.
The whole class seems to be holding their breath. Even Bonnie finally stopped crying.
“This isn’t good,” Mrs. Arnold mutters. She runs around to each individual hookup, stopping at mine and trying to turn the connector off. It doesn’t seem to have any effect on the flame.
After determining that something is legitimately wrong, she turns to look at us, white-faced. I feel like she’s about to apologize or something. It’s a very weird moment.
Then she pulls the fire alarm. It starts blaring and we all look at one another, unmoving, as if we still can’t believe this is happening.
I’m so scared I can barely move a muscle. Maybe that’s what everyone else is feeling, too.
“I’m not kidding, people!” she yells. “We need to get out of here.”
Mrs. Arnold grabs her cell phone and calls someone, explaining what just happened while ushering students out of the classroom and into the hallway, where a crowd is building to make their way out of the school.
I think I have my act of God.
I was not expecting that.
Kyle
When the fire alarm goes off during my English class, I’m more than a little relieved. Now I won’t get pulled aside by Ms. Gupta at the end of the day. I can look forward to a nice, long Gupta-less weekend. I really didn’t want to share my feelings about the testing she set up for me on Monday. Though she’d already gotten in a few sympathetic smiles before the alarm went off.
During the plodding walk out of the building, it becomes obvious that there are some crazy rumors flying around about why the fire alarm went off. There are a lot of people saying that this isn’t just a drill, but it’s hard to tell who really knows something and who’s just pissing in the wind.
“I heard there were huge flames coming from the science wing,” a sophomore in front of me says.
“I heard there was, like, a ball of fire,” the kid next to him chimes in.
“Something happened with a gas leak,” a girl says, completely separate from the two guys ahead of me.
I’m personally doubtful until a minute later when fire trucks roll onto the street and the teachers start ushering us toward the football field and away from the building.
“That’s a first,” I mumble. The sophomore turns around and gives me a confused look.
I find Ruby lounging near one of the goalposts with Lauren and Lilah.
“All I’m saying is that we need to find something to do tonight,” Lauren says.
“I agree. I can’t sit around my house again. I think my parents are starting to feel bad for me. Last Saturday night they asked me to play cards with them. And I did!” Lilah says.
When I sit down next to Ruby, she leans over to kiss my cheek but then jumps back into the conversation.
“I don’t have to babysit tonight for once,” she says.
“Awesome. All you do lately is babysit,” Lauren says.
“Can you hang out tonight?” Ruby asks me.
I nod. “Definitely.”
While I’m technically grounded on school nights because of my English grade, Friday is not considered a school night. At least I hope not. I don’t know why my parents would make me stay home on Friday night to do my homework when Sunday night is a perfectly reasonable time to get it done.
The girls continue to toss ideas around for what to do that night, and after a few minutes, more of our friends gather in this spot. It seems like everyone is getting comfortable, including the teachers, who are leaning against the fence, watching the fire department activity.
“I guess we’re going to be out here awhile,” Sawyer says.
“Yeah, something happened with a gas line?” Buster says, but he’s obviously not sure about that.
Gideon ambles up, taking a seat between Lilah and Sawyer, but he barely even says hello to anyone.
“Do you know what happened, Gid?” Maddie asks.
“Oh, uh, yeah. Actually, it happened in my chem class.”
Everyone grows quiet and all eyes are on Gideon. It gives me an excuse to really look at him for the first time in days. He seems kind of tired and pale. Not words that I’ve ever used to describe Gideon in the past.
“That’s so scary,” Lauren says when Gideon’s done with his story. “I had no idea that could happen.”
“I have a feeling it was a fluke,” he says.
The topic turns back to the evening’s activities.
“My parents are going to a wedding tonight,” Maddie says. “So I’m up for whatever. They won’t be home until after midnight.”
“Seriously?” Ruby asks. “Maybe we should all go hang out at your house.”
“I could probably convince my sister to get us some beer,” Buster says.
“This could be a lot of fun,” Sawyer says, squeezing Maddie’s hand.
“Listen to me,” Maddie starts, and she makes direct eye contact with everyone sitting in the group. “I will allow it. But none of you can tell anyone else. This is not a party. This is not about getting wasted. This is not a way for you guys to completely screw me over. It stays between the eight of us. I don’t mind having people over. It will probably be fun. But if any of you so much as breathes wrong on one of my mother’s Hummels or my dad’s ships in a bottle, I will cut you.”
I glance around the group, and everyone looks about as stunned as I feel.
“This will be an intimate gathering of friends,” Maddie says.
“A minute get-together,” Lilah says.
“A tiny shindig,” Ruby offers.
“So do you want us to take a blood oath?” Buster asks.
Thirty minutes later they finally start letting us back into the school. I feel bad about how quiet Gideon was during the whole fire drill.
I catch up to him as we walk through the front doors and squeeze his arm.
“You’re going to come tonight, right?” I ask. I feel like I need him there, but I don’t know why.
He looks from my hand to my face. “Yeah, of course. Wouldn’t want to miss out on this minuscule nonparty.”
“Good. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”
Ezra
“You look like you just ate a bug,” I say.
Gideon is lying on the couch in the family room after dinner, watching TV with a pinched look on his face.
“Why are you still here?” he asks, sitting up to face me.
“Um.” I can’t believe he asked me that straight out. Not even our parents have asked. No one has asked. Which, come to think of it, is really strange. It’s not like I can just tell him that I got evicted and didn’t have anywhere else to go.
“No, seriously,” he says. “Are you just going to stay here forever?”
“Aren’t you happy to have me around?” I ask.
“You’re so glib. Why are you so glib?”
“Why do you insist on using SAT words?”
“That’s, like, barely an SAT word,” he says, throwing himself back down on the couch cushions. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be a jerk.”
“Yeah, what’s your deal? You’re so tense lately. Like, way more than usual.”
“Everything just really sucks.”
“Are people giving you a hard time about the gay thing?” I ask, taking a seat in the chair across from him.
He covers his face with his arm. “No one is giving me a ha
rd time about the gay thing, because no one knows about the gay thing.”
“You haven’t told anyone?”
He shakes his head.
“I’m the only person who knows?”
He nods. “Essentially. You’re the only person I told.”
“Well,” I say, settling back and probably smiling too much. “I feel pretty special.”
“You always feel pretty special,” he mutters.
“So you want to tell people?”
He sits up and leans his elbows on his knees. “Yes. But I have this other problem that’s really embarrassing.”
“Like farting in class embarrassing or boner at the wrong time or…” I trail off, because there are so many levels of humiliation.
“Kind of worse than that.”
I wait.
“So I’m in love with Kyle.”
“Oh. Okay.” I steeple my fingers and pretend to be his shrink.
“And I want to tell him. But I also feel like maybe I should tell him I’m gay before I tell him I’m in love with him. You know, like one thing at a time.”
I nod knowingly, even though I don’t necessarily agree. Gideon just needs support right now.
“So go next door and tell him.”
“I love how you make it sound so easy.”
“I’m pretty sure it is that easy.”
“But what if—”
“No, forget what if,” I say, cutting him off. “He’s your best friend. He came out to you, you can come out to him.”
He takes a noticeably deep breath, like he’s trying to calm himself down.
“There’s a party tonight. What if I get really drunk and come out to everyone? Get it over with.”
I think that sounds like kind of a terrible idea, but I’m trying to be supportive. “Have you ever been drunk before?”
“Um, no.”
“It might not be the best idea.”
“But it’ll be like ripping off a Band-Aid,” he says. “And I can kill two birds with one stone. Coming out and getting drunk for the first time.”
“I see what you mean. If your life were a teen comedy, tonight would be your night. It would be the climax of your young life.”
“Exactly,” he says, getting into the idea.