Full Disclosure

by Camryn Garrett

  I’ve never been good at acting.

  “Hey.” Mr. Palumbo squeezes my shoulder. “You okay, champ?”

  “Yeah,” I say, unfolding my arms. “It’s just an off day.”

  It’s the understatement of the year, but if he thinks so, he doesn’t say it. I’ve never been so glad that Ms. Klein left early.

  “Come on, guys,” I call, tucking my clipboard under my arm. Some of the kids onstage look over at me, but not all of them. “We’re going to run the whole first act, with the sets and everything. Make sure that the crew is ready. I want to get notes for you so that we have them on Saturday.”

  Mr. Palumbo smiles at me. “That’s the Simone I know.”

  “She didn’t exactly run away.”

  Jesse comes out from behind the curtain, a pair of headphones resting around his neck. He has short, bushy brown hair and light brown skin. He has a habit of wearing all black at every rehearsal just to set an example for the other crew members. That’s our crew chief: always taking this more seriously than everyone else combined.

  Miles steps out next to him and I freeze. He glances at me, our eyes locking for a moment. I can’t read his expression. I don’t need to. He’s probably telling Jesse all about what happened. I whirl around so I don’t have to see the look on his face. I actually like working with Jesse. If he heard about this, there’s no way he’d take me seriously.

  Come on, Simone, think. I could tell Miles I had a mild allergic reaction to the trail mix in the vending machine. Or I could blame it on my period, but that’s, like, breaking the rules of feminism. I think.

  “Hey, Simone.”

  I tense, turning my head slightly. It’s just Jesse walking up behind me—thank God. Miles is nowhere in sight.

  “Hey,” I say, exhaling. I’m glad he’s here, since thinking about the play is what I should be doing. “I don’t know if you heard, but we’re gonna run the whole first act. If you have your script, you might want to mark it up.”

  He nods, but his eyes linger on my face.

  I cross my arms. “What?”

  “Oh, nothing,” he says, but there’s a little smile on his face. “You just seem a bit stressed out.”

  Fuck. Miles told him. I hesitate for a moment before waving wildly toward the stage. Even though I just made an announcement, people are still lingering, like there’s nothing to do. I like to leave the yelling to Ms. Klein, but watching them drag their heels makes me understand why she does it.

  “Good point.” He stares at my hands. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else—boy trouble?”

  My cheeks heat up again. Jesse is nice and everything, but we don’t talk about anything besides the play. This seems like an awkward time to suddenly start being friends.

  “Ugh,” I groan, running a hand through my hair. “Did he tell you about it? Already? Look, it’s not as bad as it sounds—”

  “Tell me about what?” He shakes his head. “Miles just said you were having a rough day. You have that look about you—the boy-trouble look. I know I see it in the mirror all the time.”

  “Oh.” Miles didn’t tell him. I find myself smiling. “Boys suck, don’t they?”

  “Agreed,” Jesse says. “And, for some reason, we still like them. It’s the way of the world.”

  I might be wrong, but his eyes seem to linger on Rocco a little longer than they should. It’s not like Rocco is a bad guy. It’s just—they don’t seem to go together. Then again, I don’t think I match up with Miles, either. He’s popular and good at talking to people, while I could make a career out of acting like a fool. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one who’s bad at this whole crush thing.

  “We’re gonna be eighty by the time this is finished,” Jesse says, shifting his attention to the stage. “I think the other kids get worse every year. When I was a freshman, everything got done way ahead of time.”

  Most of the scenery is painted dark gray with a little bit of colorful graffiti spray painted on the sides. There’s still a lot to do, but it doesn’t look completely horrible.

  “Oh, come on.” I nudge his shoulder and he raises a brow. “It doesn’t look that bad, dude. I’m sure you’ll pull it together.”

  “Let’s hope so.” He folds his arms. “Otherwise, we’re screwed.”

  “Your positivity is blinding.” I shake my head, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Hey, we should talk more sometime. Maybe during lunch? You’re really the only other student in, like, a leadership role.”

  “Sure. We can go over your notes,” he says, pressing his lips together in a smile. “But it might take more than a lunch period to get through all of them.”

  “I don’t mean to have so many,” I say. God, I hope I’m not blushing. “Palumbo just said to do what feels right, so I write down everything I’m thinking, and then I end up with pages and pages of notes. But I don’t always expect Palumbo to agree with them. I keep thinking he’ll tell me to shut up one of these days.”

  “Simone, it’s fine.” Jesse laughs, hands resting on his headphones. “I’m just teasing you.”

  Maybe he is, but it doesn’t feel it. I’m sure Jesse isn’t the only one who’s noticed I’m new to this job.

  “Hey, guys!”

  Jesse and I turn at the voice. I almost jump backward when I see Miles standing at the door. My hands tense at my sides.

  “What’s up?” Jesse asks. I can’t make my lips move.

  “Principal Decker wants to see Simone.” He glances at me for the briefest second. “She said right away. I think it’s important.”

  Jesse turns to me expectantly. I just shrug. I’ve met the principal only once, and it was the day before I started here. She’s nice enough. I can’t think of any reason why she’d want to see me.

  “Palumbo, I’ll be right back,” I call, jogging toward the doors. “Jesse, do me a favor and get the set for the next scene ready while I’m gone?”

  I let the door slam behind me.

  “Did she tell you what she wanted?” I ask Miles, switching my clipboard to my other hand. “Because, if it’s something that’ll take a while, I need to tell Palumbo—”

  “Simone.” There’s a smile in his voice, and I snap my eyes back to him. He bites his lip for a moment, something so quick I’m not sure I actually saw it. “The principal didn’t actually need to talk to you. I just wanted to tell you something.”

  “What?” The flutters are back in my stomach again. I could handle the principal, but Miles alone? That’s an entirely different beast. “What is it?”

  He takes a step forward, and I press my back against the wall. I might be crushing someone’s art project. He makes a noise, something like a soft snort. “You ran away.”

  I swallow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I know exactly what he’s talking about. I’ve only been replaying each excruciating detail over in my mind since it happened.

  “You asked me a question,” he says, lifting up my chin. “You left before I could answer.”

  He’s touching my chin. His fingers are touching my chin, like in the movies I make fun of with my friends. I’m definitely not laughing now. They’re soft, like he doesn’t spend all his free time building sets and swinging lacrosse sticks. My heart is thumping.

  “Really?” I say. Somehow, my voice is still working. “I figured—I don’t know—that you wouldn’t want to.”

  “How could you—” He stops himself, swallowing. “I want to. I definitely want to.”

  I’m either dreaming or high. Maybe both.

  I wrap my arm around his neck, pulling him closer to me. He presses his lips against mine.

  If I didn’t have the wall for support, I’d be on the ground.

  CHAPTER 5

  Miles kissed me yesterday. Miles told me he wanted to go out with me yesterday, a
nd then kissed me again. Miles kissed me, told me he wanted to go out with me, kissed me again, and now we’re walking down the hallway together. I don’t think this is real life. This must’ve been how Tracy from Hairspray felt when she finally got the guy. It’s unreal.

  Sure, we aren’t holding hands or anything, but we’re close enough that our shoulders are touching. And maybe people can’t tell we kissed, but it doesn’t really matter. I can’t stop smiling. We’re not even talking—I’m not sure what I can say without smiling like a creep—but I don’t care. Being next to him is enough.

  “I have to go to English,” I say, slowing down my steps. “And that’s upstairs.”

  He scowls like a little kid. I’m sure I look like a freaky clown who can’t wipe off a smile.

  “Don’t worry,” I say, patting his shoulder. God, who pats shoulders? Who do I think I am—Dr. Phil? “I’ll see you at rehearsal later, right?”

  “Yeah, I’m looking forward to the musical of the day.” He bends down, pressing a kiss against my cheek. I have to go, but he takes his sweet time. Kissing him on the mouth is better, but I like the way my cheek tingles once he moves away. “I’ll see you later, Simone.”

  I may or may not be staring at his ass while he walks down the hall. I watch until he fades into the crowd before finally turning toward the stairs. There are only a few minutes left until the bell.

  Back at my old school, I couldn’t walk down the hall without noticing at least five familiar faces. Here, it’s pretty rare that I see someone I know. But today Eric is standing by the stairs, talking to someone. He glances up as I walk by, and I give him a big wave. The kid frowns so hard it looks like a sneer.

  I blink, forcing myself up the stairs. Eric must really hate my notes.

  * * *

  “Oh my God, Simone, I have to know everything. Is he a good kisser? He just took you in the middle of the hallway and started making out with you? Just like that?”

  Lydia is practically squealing as we walk down the hallway at the end of the day. Claudia rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anything. I duck my head to hide my smile. It happened yesterday, but I can still feel the imprint of his lips on mine.

  “Well, he called me out of rehearsal to see the principal,” I say. This is the most cliché thing ever—me and my best friends squealing over a boy—but I don’t care. “I swear to Cate Blanchett I thought I was going to melt right then and there.”

  “You are such a dramatic person,” Claudia says, leaning against the wall of lockers. “I can’t even handle you, or that boy. Why don’t you date someone who actively avoids lacrosse, like a normal person? I think my brother is single.”

  My locker is in the same hall as Claudia’s, which is probably the only reason why I was able to find it my first few weeks at Sacred Heart.

  “You sound like a commercial,” I say. “And anyway, isn’t Julio, like, five years older than us?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be looking for your welcome packet?” she mimics. “How did you forget who your guidance counselor is?”

  “I don’t know.” How do I open the locker again? I spin to the left, right, and left again. It pops open on the first try. Claudia doesn’t seem impressed. “My old school had us assigned according to last name. It’s all messed up over here.”

  “It’s not that complicated,” Claudia says. “Here, let me do it.”

  “Don’t listen to her.” Lydia huffs. “Tell me what else happened!”

  “He actually freaked me out a little bit with the principal thing,” I say, tossing a pile of notes into the garbage. I’ve only been here a couple of months, but it’s already a mess in here. “I thought something happened, like my parents needed me or something.”

  “Did you let him know he freaked you out?” Claudia asks, folding her arms. “Because I would’ve.”

  “I did,” I say, but I feel like laughing. The kiss lasted maybe a minute or two, and here I am, still thinking about it. “But it was really good, Lydia. You were right—it’s different when it’s with someone you like. It’s better. But listen, you have to promise not to talk about this at dinner Saturday night. My dads will never let it go.”

  “Say it isn’t so,” Claudia gasps. “You aren’t telling us just to force your heteronormative agenda on us?

  “I’m not,” I protest, looking under a textbook. “I just—I try not to be so straight all the time.”

  I’ve only ever spoken to them about my crush on Miles. It would be weird to talk about Sarah now, like I’m backtracking, trying to present myself as a completely different person. Besides, Claudia likes making fun of me too much. Our whole relationship is built around making fun of each other. If she made fun of the way I used to feel about Sarah, I don’t know if I could just brush it off.

  “Oh, Mony. You sound so sad. I like boys, too,” Lydia says. “Maybe you should consider the rest of your options.”

  I bite my lip. She’s had multiple crushes on both girls and boys. It’s not like that for me. I think girls—or people who look like girls—are pretty, but that doesn’t always mean I have a crush. Besides, most of the people I’m attracted to are celebrities, and like Claudia said, those don’t count.

  The only person I was completely sure about was Sarah. It just doesn’t feel like enough to make me think I’m bisexual like Lydia.

  “Boys suck,” Lydia continues. “And Ian doesn’t know how to do a ton of stuff, like—”

  “Damn,” Claudia says. “I was just kidding. Poor Ian. If it helps, I’m not very good at going down on Emma, but I try because I love her.”

  I raise my eyebrows. Lydia cocks her head to the side.

  “What?” Claudia says. “It’s not like I’m incapable of having sex. I just don’t get into it, but I don’t mind doing it if she wants— Look, it’s complicated, okay?”

  Sex comes after kissing, doesn’t it? I don’t know how any of this works, not really, since I haven’t done anything more than go on a date. With the way Lydia talks about it, I figure she and her boyfriends started doing sex stuff right away. Even Claudia and her girlfriend are doing things. I might be getting ahead of myself, but I know I want to kiss Miles again. He can’t get the virus from kissing, but I already know that I want more. What if he does, too?

  “Guys.” I grip my locker door, turning my body toward them. “What am I gonna do if we kiss again?”

  “Enjoy it?” Lydia says, brows furrowed. “I don’t understand. Didn’t you like kissing him?”

  “Yeah, of course,” I say, trying to hold back a sigh. This would be easier if they knew why I’m so freaked out. “But what if he wants to have sex?”

  Lydia cocks her head to the side. Claudia raises her brows. They both share a look.

  “You literally kissed once, Simone,” Claudia says slowly, like I might not understand. “It doesn’t mean you’re getting married.”

  “But what if—”

  “I know what you mean,” Lydia says carefully. “The kiss happened so fast, and now you’re worried about what’s gonna happen next. But sex is such a big step. I don’t think you should worry about it so much until you know for sure where you guys are going with this. Does that make sense?”

  That’s the solution? Don’t think about it? Maybe I am getting ahead of myself. Maybe nothing is going to happen after that kiss, even though I still feel wisps of it on my lips. A big part of me hopes there’s more after this—even if it means I’ll have to tell him the truth and risk the consequences.

  “God, look at her,” Claudia says, bringing me back to Earth. “She actually thinks they’re getting married.”

  “I don’t!”

  “Simone,” Lydia says. “You’re kinda acting like it.”

  “I can’t tell if you really like him or if you’re just really horny,” Claudia says. “Either way, you could use a good vibrator. We shoul
d all hit up a sex shop. I need to buy one for Emma, anyway.”

  “Don’t you need ID?” Lydia asks. “We aren’t old enough.”

  “We’ll fake them.” Claudia shrugs. “So, Saturday?”

  “Guys,” I moan. “You’re not helping.”

  “Trust me,” Claudia says, grinning. “A vibrator will do wonders.”

  I sigh, turning back to my locker. It’s still a mess of papers that looks dangerously close to toppling to the ground. On my first day, it felt like everyone had something to give me: schedules, supply lists, rules, class syllabi. It’s a mountain of white that makes me look like I just toss shit in here without a second glance. I scan the small space, keeping my eyes open for a blue folder. With this mess, I doubt there’s a chance of me finding anything I need. A few stray papers float to the floor, and I bend to pick them up.

  “Come on, Simone.” Claudia squats down, grabbing some papers. “We’re trying to help. I don’t mean to sound bitchy. It’s just—well, we know you don’t have a lot of experience with this.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I mutter, grabbing the remaining papers.

  “See you later,” Lydia says, touching my arm. “All right?”

  “Yeah,” I say. A folded piece of yellow paper sticks out of the stack. That’s weird.

  Lydia and Claudia walk down the hallway. I grab my welcome folder with one hand and unfold the note with the other.

  It takes a few seconds to read. I go back and read it again. The words swirl in my head once, twice, three times, but they still don’t register. I just hold the note in my shaking hands, blinking at the scribbled writing:

  I know you have HIV. You have until Thanksgiving to stop hanging out with Miles. Or everyone else will know, too.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Simone, you’ll get an infection if you keep biting your nails like that. I thought we talked about this, baby.”