Full Disclosure

by Camryn Garrett

“Do you have any more questions?”

  I shake my head, and she pats my hand.

  “Lean back for me, sweetie. We’re going to start your breast exam.”

  CHAPTER 2

  My parents gave up on driving me to school ages ago, most likely because I wait until the last possible moment to wake up and get ready. Today’s different. Waking up late would mean letting Lydia down.

  It’s weird to hear Dad pulling out of the driveway as he heads for the hospital. Pops is in the kitchen, making coffee. I guess there’s a lot I miss while I’m asleep.

  “You’re up early.” Pops stirs his coffee. He always takes it black. “Are the girls up to something?”

  I swallow, sliding past him and the kitchen island. I can tell Pops anything, but the line blurs when it comes to things that are happening to my friends. If Lydia doesn’t want her parents to know where we’re going, I doubt she’d want my parents to know.

  “We have to run an errand,” I say instead, reaching for a mug in the cupboard. “And we can’t go after school, because I have play rehearsal.”

  “You all need to go together to run this errand?”

  I shrug, stealing the coffeepot and pouring a liberal amount into my cup. There’s sleep in my eyes, but I can still see his De La Soul shirt clearly—which he wears all the time even though the only students who understand the reference are black, like us. Sometimes I wish I went to the public school where he works, but it’s thirty minutes away. Sacred Heart is closer, not as conservative as my old school, and doesn’t require uniforms. Even better, no one knows me at Sacred Heart, not the way they did at my old school.

  Our Lady of Lourdes had only a hundred girls, and we all lived in the same dorm. It meant we were closer than normal classmates. I never minded—until they found out I was positive.

  “Simone,” Pops says, placing his coffee on the counter. “If something were going on, you’d tell me. Right?”

  I sigh. “It’s something Lydia doesn’t want to tell her parents about. Not now, anyway. We just have to make a stop.”

  He stares at me for an extra beat.

  “I swear,” I say, resting my hand on his. “If she were in trouble, I’d tell you.”

  He grunts into his cup. I turn toward our medicine cabinet, satisfied. In order to keep my viral load down, I have to take a gigantic pill every morning. The alarm on my phone is probably going off, but I don’t need it most days. Taking my meds is like clockwork at this point.

  I feel Pops’s eyes on me as I toss back the pill. He and Dad used to give me stickers for every day I remembered to take it all by myself. If I went a month without missing, they’d get me a prize. I guess my prize is my health now. Definitely not as fun as going to Chuck E. Cheese’s.

  The doorbell rings, and I jump, almost spilling my coffee. Lydia’s on the porch, dark hair tucked behind her ears and face clear of makeup.

  “Hey,” she says as I open the door. “You ready to go? Claudia’s waiting in the car.”

  “Right.” I pause, looking her up and down. She looks paler than usual. “She made you come get me?”

  “No, no. I wanted to.”

  I squint at her.

  “You’re my friend, Simone,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m allowed to want to see you.”

  “But you’re nervous,” I say, guessing. “Otherwise, you would’ve just waited outside.”

  “A little,” she says. “But it’s better because of you guys.”

  As if to prove it, she wraps her arms around me in a hug.

  “Aw, Lydia,” I say, face in her shoulder. “You’re too much.”

  Really, though, I love her.

  “I just have to get my bag,” I say, pulling back after a minute. “You should come in.”

  She nods, following me. Her bag is decorated with different pins—our school logo, characters from The Lego Movie, and I Love Taiwan pins from her trip to visit family last summer.

  “Hi, Lydia,” Pops says as I grab my bag off the counter. “How are you?”

  “I’m good, thanks.” She flashes a smile. “Ready to get to school.”

  I snort into my arm. Lydia actually likes school, something I’ll never understand.

  “And your parents?”

  “They’re fine.” She rocks back on her heels. “Busy, as usual.”

  Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Wu, want her to get good grades, but they aren’t annoying about it the way Claudia’s parents are. They never painted multiplication tables on her bedroom wall or forced her to go to math camp, but they do check her progress reports as soon as they’re sent home. The most my parents have ever done is ask if I need help from a tutor, and that’s when I still went to boarding school. I can’t picture them monitoring my computer time or peering over my shoulder every few minutes, but hey, different strokes.

  Pops gives me a quick peck on the cheek, waving at Lydia as she drags me toward the door.

  “Good luck today, girls,” he calls. “Text me once you get to school.”

  The door slams behind us.

  Claudia drives an old blue Ford Bronco, but I never sit in the front. I’m still not sure how Lydia is brave enough to do it, especially today. Whenever I get in the car with her, Claudia alternates between driving like she’s in The Fast and the Furious and driving like she has a flat tire.

  “I’m surprised you still have your license,” I say, sliding into the center of the back seat. “Don’t you have a ton of tickets?”

  “Oh, shut up,” she says, hands resting on the wheel. “If you think I’m so horrible, you can drive. Believe me, it’s not as easy as I make it look. Go take your driver’s test and find out.”

  I could think of a witty comment to throw back at her, but I won’t. She’s being nicer than usual to Lydia today, which means all her snark needs to end up somewhere. I’m sure it’ll even out once we get this over with.

  The car starts moving right after we buckle up. The gentle movement pulls at my eyelids. I’m so close to sleep, despite the coffee. The silence doesn’t do much to help.

  “You’re just going to get some pills,” Claudia says, turning to Lydia. “Come on, it’s no big deal.”

  I blink my eyes open. I can see Claudia’s face—full of concern, unusually soft—but I can’t see Lydia’s. I don’t get why she’s so nervous.

  “I just feel like a liar,” she says. “You should’ve seen my mom the other day. She wanted to talk about feelings and changes, and I told her I’m not having sex. Now I’m going to get birth control without telling her. Does that make me horrible?”

  “I don’t think so,” I say, shrugging. “Do you want to talk to her about banging Ian Waters?”

  “First of all, ew.” Claudia glances up at me in the mirror. “And second, no one says bang anymore.”

  “I do.”

  She snorts.

  The clinic is about fifteen minutes away, and we spend the rest of the ride in silence. Lydia’s parents both work in finance, so she doesn’t have to worry about seeing any family friends working there. All she has to do is go in, pay for the pills, and come back out.

  Claudia pulls into a parking space. There are about six other cars here, even though it’s early in the morning. The faded pink lettering near the heavy metal doors seems like something out of a movie.

  I click off my seat belt, leaning forward so that I can see Lydia’s face.

  “Do you want us to come in with you?” I ask. It’s so odd to see her without her signature smoky eye on. “Because we will, if you want us to. We can all walk in together.”

  Lydia shakes her head, taking off her seat belt.

  “No. People might not recognize me, but they’ll recognize us if we’re together.”

  It’s more like they’ll recognize Claudia and Lydia. They’ve been friends for ages, going to
the same school and playdates at each other’s houses.

  “There are confidentiality laws,” Claudia says, killing the engine.

  “Yeah,” I say. “The nurses and the doctors can’t tell anyone without your permission. It’s going to be fine.”

  “What if we’re late to class?”

  Claudia and I scoff, the sounds overlapping.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say. “If anything, we can tell your parents that you were helping me with something family-related. You can tell them that I got sick, if you want.”

  It would be weird to lie to Mrs. Wu. I’ve only been to her house once, for a sleepover back in September, and she made pancakes for breakfast when we woke up. But I wouldn’t mind doing it for Lydia.

  “Ugh,” Lydia says, rubbing her arms. “All the lies.”

  “I feel like that’s a vital part of the whole teen-rebellion thing,” Claudia offers. “And, like…Eventually, your parents will just assume you’re on birth control, so you won’t have to have some big discussion. It’s not like they’re my parents, you know?”

  “I know,” Lydia says. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

  She pushes herself out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her. I guess I could move to the front passenger seat, but I stay in the back, pulling my legs to my chest.

  “This is weird,” I say, piercing the silence. “I never thought I’d come here. I figured I wouldn’t have any reason to even think about sex.”

  “Please,” Claudia says. “You think about sex more than anyone I know. What are you talking about?”

  Ugh. Claudia and Lydia are the first—and best—friends I’ve made at Sacred Heart. Part of me, something deep in my stomach, feels like I should be able to tell them that I’m HIV positive.

  “I don’t know.” I push my hair back. “Just because I think about it doesn’t mean it’ll happen.” I leave my other thought unsaid: Just because I think about a particular guy all the time doesn’t mean anything will happen.

  She turns, raising a dark brow at me. Her hair is short, a bob cut that hasn’t grown an inch since the first day I met her, and she has the same tan skin as my dad.

  “Do you wanna tell me something, kid?”

  I scrunch my lips together. Claudia Perez is not the type of person I want to keep secrets from, but this is secret. The biggest one I’ve got. I don’t think she would tell, but I don’t actually know.

  “Simone,” Claudia presses. “What’s up?”

  “I just…” I look down. Study sheets litter the floor, and I crush them under my feet. “I just can’t picture anyone wanting to do it with me.”

  “Why not?” Her voice is sharp. “I’d have sex with you, if I were into it. You’re awesome.”

  I laugh, despite myself. “Do you know how weird you sound?”

  “Well, who cares?” She shifts again, giving me a half smile. “Why wouldn’t someone want to bang you?”

  I’m not sure what to say. Lydia opens the passenger door, sliding in. Her face is flushed, and there’s a small white bag in her hand. We wait in silence for her to say something.

  “She was the nicest lady ever,” Lydia finally says, heaving a sigh. “I don’t know why I was so worried. She was nice on the phone, too, and answered all my questions.”

  I squeeze her shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, babe.”

  “Yuppp.” Claudia smacks her hands against the steering wheel like it’s a drum. “Lydia’s the best.”

  I can’t tell if Lydia’s flushed or if she’s blushing. Claudia pulls out of the parking lot, heading toward our school.

  “I just took it,” Lydia says after a moment. “So I have to take it this time every day. I think it’ll be fine.”

  “How do you feel?” Claudia asks before I can. “Better?”

  “Definitely,” Lydia says, letting out another big breath. “Ian and I are starting to—you know, take more steps, so I’m glad I’m prepared. I thought I’d feel worse about lying to my parents, though.”

  “I think that’s normal,” I say, leaning back in my seat. Memories of my appointment with Dr. Walker make me wish I lied to my parents more often. “Sometimes you need your little secrets.”

  “You guys are great,” Lydia says. Claudia doesn’t take her eyes off the road, but I smile at her, even though she can’t see me. “And I love you lots. I know that you didn’t have to wake up so early before school—”

  “That was Simone’s problem,” Claudia interrupts. “Not mine. I’m always awake.”

  “Okay, but I already have an issue with waking up before nine,” I say. “It’s not my fault that I feel more awake at night. The American Academy of Pediatrics—”

  “—says that kids shouldn’t be up so early,” Lydia finishes, laughter in her voice. “We know. You only say it every single morning. I could probably recite the study in my sleep.”

  There are already a bunch of cars in the school parking lot. It’s a large brick building that could be a firehouse or a nunnery from the fifties, but just happens to be a center for learning. Claudia’s eighteen-year-old Bronco couldn’t look more different than the sleek silver cars beside it.

  “Come on, guys,” she says, pulling out her keys. “I still need to go to my locker. There’s a project I shoved in there. Lydia, you’re responsible and I love you. Tell Simone that she’ll have sex one day with the right person.”

  I flip my middle finger at her. She just flashes a smile. I try to follow her into the building, pushing past the cool burst of fall air outside, but Lydia immediately hooks arms with me.

  “What’s this about sex?” Up close, she doesn’t look as clammy as she did earlier. “It’s fun. You should try it.”

  “I thought you guys weren’t there yet?”

  “Well, there are different tiers.”

  “It’s not the issue of having sex,” Claudia says, stopping at her wide blue locker. I lean against the others as she fiddles with her combination. “She doesn’t think she could find anyone to do it with her.”

  “What?” Lydia glances at me. “Why not?”

  “You know, I don’t really think I need to use my locker,” I say, pulling at our interlocked arms. She doesn’t let go. “Seriously, I’m not kidding. I put all the important stuff in my bag. I think the only thing I left in there is my orientation packet.”

  “I used my locker, like, once before today,” Claudia offers, locker door swinging open. “But it’s different. You’ve only been here, what, two months? I’ve been here three years.”

  “Wait a minute,” Lydia says, holding up her hands. “Who cares about lockers? Simone, anyone would be lucky to have you. This is ridiculous.”

  This is the Lydia I know.

  I know they’re both speaking the truth—I am pretty awesome. Two months ago, I didn’t even care about finding a boyfriend or having sex or anything like that. I just wanted to focus on integrating into a new place. Now I’m student director of the school musical and know how to find at least half of my classes.

  “Maybe the patriarchy is killing my brain cells.” I thump my fingers against my thigh. “Because I sound like I have no self-confidence at all. I’m an awesome bitch.”

  “Obviously,” Lydia says. “It’s common knowledge.”

  “There’s no reason for anyone to be a dick to you, dude,” Claudia says, holding her poster board against her chest. “If anyone is, tell me so I can kick their ass.”

  “Then get your legs ready,” I say. “Because everyone is a dick. All guys our age, anyway.”

  “I resent that,” Lydia says. “Ian is cute and sweet.”

  Claudia and I give her a pointed look. Lydia folds her arms, huffing.

  “Well, no one is perfect. What about that kid from Drama you like?” Lydia says, wisely diverting attention from her boyfriend.

 
It doesn’t make any sense to compare Ian, president of the Mock Trial team, to Miles Austin. For one thing, I’m fairly certain that Miles is the only black lacrosse player in existence. Somehow, he manages to fit in with the other members of the team, with their clothes from J.Crew and Vineyard Vines. I’m sure the company he keeps says tons about him. None of it is attractive. But, for some reason, Miles still is.

  “Well, he’s not a jerk,” I say, counting on my fingers. “He can lift really heavy things like it’s no big deal. He’s fun to talk to. He has a nice ass.”

  “I’m so glad I’m not attracted to boys,” Claudia says, pulling her backpack onto her shoulders. I grab her rolled-up poster board, tucking it under my arm. “It sounds exhausting.”

  “Maybe you should actually do something about your crush.” The look Lydia gives me is dripping with pity. “If you like someone, you’re supposed to tell them, Simone.”

  I hold back a groan. Maybe I would say something if I were completely sure that Miles likes girls. Whenever I see him at rehearsal, he asks me about another musical. I’ve never met a straight guy who cares about musicals.

  I know that stuff like the way he dresses and how he talks doesn’t make him gay. But I still have this feeling. Maybe it’s the musicals. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s always nice to everyone. Maybe it’s because I’ve never seen him with a girl. Ugh. If only I’d gone to a coed boarding school, then I’d know how to deal with this shit.

  “It’s just not that simple,” I say, lowering my voice. “You guys make everything seem easy.”

  When I’m around Claudia and Lydia, I feel cool. But feeling cool isn’t enough. There’s no reason for Miles to say more than a few words to me. I’m mostly fine with it; I don’t care about chasing after a boy. It’s just that part of me aches when I see him. There’s a reason why everyone is drawn to him—during the rehearsals, in the halls—but I can’t exactly say what it is. He just exists, and that’s enough. I wish I could do that, too.

  CHAPTER 3

  After the last bell of the day rings, I head toward the auditorium for rehearsal. I can’t tell if I’m into theater because of Lin-Manuel Miranda, like everyone else, or because I actually like it. Probably a combination of both. If I didn’t enjoy it, I don’t think I’d be able to spend two hours after school every day working on this musical.