“What’s wrong with my house?”
“Your dads are always lurking somewhere,” she says. “They want to talk and interact, and sometimes I just want to have girl time.”
I can’t blame her. When my parents get home, I’ll have to stay in my room if I want to avoid an interrogation. I hate that they can always tell when something is wrong. I hate Eric for putting me in this situation.
“You’re such a freak, Claude,” Lydia says. “They aren’t even that bad. My parents would give you the twenty-questions treatment if they weren’t so busy with Matt. I swear, you’d think he could handle himself.”
“He’s six,” Claudia says. “Have a heart.”
That’s it. Ignoring it isn’t helping. I need them to fix this.
“Guys,” I say, voice cracking. “There was another note in my locker. I think Eric left it.”
“What the fuck?”
“Oh my God. The asshole from Drama?”
Both of their voices screech through the phone at once. It’s on speaker, but I still have to push it away. The knots in my stomach unravel a little bit now that it’s out in the open.
“Did you tell your parents?” Lydia asks. “If you know who did it, then maybe you should tell.”
“No way. They’ll flip the fuck out. I’m not telling them anything.”
“Who does this kid think he is?” Claudia snaps. “I’m telling you, some people think they can get away with the worst shit. If he hacked into your school records or something—”
“I seriously don’t know. Maybe he saw me at the hospital?” I say. I don’t think I’m going to cry, but I’m pissed. “I don’t think he could find it in my school records. He’d have to find my medical records.”
“But why?” Lydia asks. “Who has the time for that?”
“Maybe he’s trying to play a stupid prank?” Claudia suggests. “Boys get crazy when it comes to that shit.”
“It just doesn’t add up,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “I know he doesn’t like me because I always have notes for him, but I don’t know. I can’t…I don’t know how he can hate me enough to do something like this.”
Sure, I’m definitely a pain in his ass, but why would Eric care so much about my relationship with Miles? He did seem, I don’t know, repulsed when he talked about us kissing earlier. I guess if he somehow found out I was positive, this could be his twisted idea of protecting Miles.
“I’ll kick his ass,” Claudia says. “Just give me his last name.”
“You can’t kill him, Claudia. I already told you that,” I say, pressing a hand against my forehead. “Just give me a second. I need to figure this out.”
“Figure what out?” she asks. “We know he’s a creep and you aren’t going to tell your parents. I’ll just wait outside the auditorium and beat him up.”
“I guess I could help,” Lydia says. “But I’m not good at fights. I’d be the first one to get hit.”
I open my mouth to say something else, but my phone flashes with a new text. It’s an unknown number. My eyes widen and my spine goes straight. I’m barely even breathing.
Hey, Simone. This is Jesse from the crew. Just wanted to check in about sets! I know you wanted to change the cue for the apartment set. When in the scene should it come out?
For a second, I wonder why he has my number. Then I remember the directory we made at the beginning of rehearsals and let out a sigh. This stupid note is making me paranoid as hell.
“Simone?”
“I don’t know, guys,” I say. “I don’t know. I think I’ll ask him about it.”
“He’s not going to admit it,” Lydia says.
“Well, what am I going to do?” I snap. “I’m not going to let you guys get suspended for beating a guy up, and I don’t want my parents to flip out, either.”
Not only would Pops and Dad tear the principal apart, but they’d also want me to transfer again. If I can stop this without telling them, I will.
“You could tell Principal Decker,” Lydia offers. “Or literally any other adult.”
“And they’ll tell my parents, which brings us back to the drawing board.” I groan, dropping my head between my legs. “I just…I don’t want everyone to find out. I don’t want Miles to hear this from a random person I don’t even know.”
There’s silence on the other lines. My chest feels heavy, but I’m not going to cry. I’m not.
“So don’t let him take your chance away,” Claudia finally says. “Tell Miles before Eric can.”
CHAPTER 18
Wednesday is the first time I’m actually looking forward to feedback from Group. Pops is right: the kids here understand things that no one else does. If I’m going to tell Miles that I’m positive, Group is the best place to go for advice.
“So, I like a boy,” I say, trying to focus on a spot at the back of the room. It feels like everyone’s eyes are on me. “But he doesn’t have HIV—at least, I don’t think so—and I’m not sure how to talk to him about…well, any of this. It’s freaking me out.”
Julie sits in the center of the circle, nodding like I’m an episode of a soap opera. Maybe she’s surprised that I know how to speak.
“Does anyone have any advice for Simone?” she asks, turning to the rest of the group. “It’s very important that couples talk about differences in HIV status, and I’m glad she brought it up. Even if some of you aren’t worried about it now, it’s something you’ll all eventually deal with.”
I chew at my lip. My hands are still shaking—have been shaking ever since yesterday. I’ve been ignoring Miles since I skipped the game, even though I saw him in the hallway and in history class. We definitely aren’t kissing against lockers right now. All because of this stupid note.
Maybe it’s not fair to ignore him, but I’m still trying to figure shit out. If I get used to acting like his girlfriend and then I tell him I have HIV, it’ll be even worse if he reacts badly.
“Act the way you want him to react,” Brie says, startling me. Her bangs are pushed back, which is weird enough, because her hair is always in her face. She meets my eyes and doesn’t look away. “If you aren’t comfortable talking about it, he’s going to be weird about it. If you’re chill, he’ll be, too.”
“Yeah, don’t even make a big deal out of it,” says Jack, nodding his head. The two of them share a look. If I weren’t so worried about Miles, I’d spend more time analyzing it. “Don’t apologize, because it isn’t anything to be sorry about, and it’s not your fault. Just text him.”
“You can’t just text him something like that,” Ralph snaps. Normally, I’d ignore him out of principle, but he has a point. I hate that he has a point. “That’s—that’s a lot to take in. We live with it every day, but it’s a big deal to people who don’t.”
“So tell him over a candlelight dinner, whatever,” Brie says, rolling her eyes. It makes me want to hug her. “The point is that if he’s the type of person who would reject you because you’re positive, there’s nothing you can do to change that.”
“Yeah, it’s not like waiting longer is going to change anything,” Jack agrees. “Tricking him into staying with you isn’t going to do anything.”
“I’m not trying to trick him into anything,” I say, but my voice sounds weak, even to my own ears. “I’m just nervous talking about it. That’s why I’ve been putting it off.”
“That’s valid,” Julie says, her soothing voice breaking the tension. “That’s completely valid. But no matter how you decide to tell this person, it’s important that you’re honest. Honesty is the most important part of a relationship, and you don’t want to start something with lies.”
I lean back in my seat, ignoring her as she moves on to the next subject. Waiting to tell Miles doesn’t count as lying. At least, it shouldn’t.
I take the cable car ho
me alone, letting myself into our empty house. Pops has to stay after school to supervise detention, which means I’ll be alone for another hour, at least. Before I realize it, I’m gravitating toward my parents’ room. There are prints of paintings on the wall: a Frida Kahlo on one wall and a Basquiat painting on another. It looks like a bunch of scribbles to me, but Pops gets pissed whenever I tell him that.
I toss myself back on the bed. I haven’t slept with them since I was really little, around six or seven. But just being in here makes me feel connected to them. There’s even a tiny bit of me that feels connected to my bio mom. This is where my parents keep the adoption records: legal papers, letters, and even some photo albums. They’re all I have of her. It’s never bothered me before. I don’t know if it’s bothering me now, exactly. I just wish I could talk to her about this.
How did she feel when she found out she was positive? When she found out she was pregnant with me? I’ve never wondered until now. Did her boyfriend ignore her? Did her family leave her? Her friends? I’d like to imagine that she was surrounded by people who loved her; people who helped pull her out of a bad place. But I really don’t know.
Most of the time, I hate thinking about her. I hate the idea that I’m not just the daughter of my two fathers. Maybe that makes me horrible. I just hate the fact that I don’t feel anything for this person who created me, who probably wanted to get rid of me.
I bite my lip. People are supposed to be connected to their biological mothers, to feel something. There are stories about people tracking these women across countries, of them hugging and loving each other even if they don’t speak the same language.
There are two things that connect me to this woman: she had me, and she passed HIV down to me. I’ve never wanted to talk to her before, but for the first time, I wish she were here. This is the one thing she’d understand better than my parents do. Maybe she’d know what to do. Maybe, if she were here, I wouldn’t feel so alone.
I pull my legs close to my chest and start to cry.
CHAPTER 19
It takes me all of Thursday, but I finally manage to text Miles after rehearsal. That’s how we end up in Dolores Park again, sitting on a bench and staring at each other. It’s almost like the first time we came here together, but this time neither one of us is talking.
I normally don’t mind silence, but I hate it right now. Maybe because I know it’s my fault. I’m the one who hasn’t been talking to him lately. I’m the one who’s been ignoring him in the hallways. I’m the one who’s about to share something unexpected. God, I feel sick.
At least we’re in the park. There’s so much noise, between the dogs and the little kids and the strangers wrapped up in their own lives, that even awkward silences aren’t completely quiet. It’s not foggy, for once, so I should be enjoying the evening. I would be on any other day.
“Are you okay?” Miles asks. He isn’t sitting as close as he was last time. If he wanted to touch my shoulder, he’d have to lean over. “Because you look like you’re going to be sick.”
I swallow, fiddling with the note cards in my hands. I haven’t used these since we had to give presentations on our science projects all the way back in middle school. They’re numbered and everything, in case I forget where I’m going. It’s important that I don’t forget.
“Okay,” I say, putting my note cards on my lap in front of me. It feels weird to do this in a park, but at least no one here really knows me. This is one of my safe places. “I want to tell you some stuff.”
“Okay.”
“So, um, I’m adopted. But I feel like you could’ve guessed that already.”
“Yeah.” The corner of his mouth turns up. “Kinda.”
“My biological mom had HIV,” I say, hurrying to get the words out so there isn’t an awkward silence. “And I guess she didn’t know or there wasn’t medication for her or, if there was, she just couldn’t get it. I don’t know.”
I switch to the next note card, not allowing myself to make eye contact with him. My hands are shaking. No matter how much I tell myself that I shouldn’t be scared, that this is all on him and how he decides to react, it’s still scary. I don’t want Miles to think HIV makes me dirty.
“When I was born, I was really sick. They tested me, and I have HIV, too. It’s not like I just found out—I’ve always known, since I was little. I’ve been on medication forever, and now I’m healthy and everything.”
I allow myself to look up, just briefly. He swallows slowly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He’s looking right at me, no way to pretend that he isn’t. I look away.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner and I’m sorry for ignoring you and I get it if you don’t want to talk to me again,” I say, my throat dry. “I was just really scared, because it’s always weird when I tell someone, so I really don’t tell anyone. Like, anyone. But I want you to know, because I really like you, so…”
I lick my lips. He hasn’t interrupted me once this entire time, like I was expecting. I glance back up, and he’s still staring.
I wait. I can hear the sound of squirrels throwing nuts to the ground, strollers moving past. The sun is setting, slowly, like it’s lingering to watch this mess. Now that I’ve told him, we won’t be able to act the way we did before, just having fun. I immediately wish I could take it back.
“Um,” he says. “Can I hug you?”
My brows shoot up. “You want to touch me?”
“Yeah,” he says, scrunching his brows together. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“A lot of people would be very concerned about now,” I say, eyeing him warily. “Do you…I don’t know, have any questions? You aren’t reacting. It makes me feel weird.”
“I mean, I’m thinking,” he says, biting his lip. “How does everyone else normally react?”
“Um, I don’t know. They ask a lot of questions,” I say. Lydia and Claudia sort of did. Sarah asked even more, but I can’t think about that right now. “I’m not sure how everyone reacts. It’s not like I go around telling people all the time. That would…I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
He nods, staring at his hands. I wish I could tell what he’s thinking.
“You’re not going to tell anyone.” It comes out more like a statement than a question. “Right?”
“No.” He shakes his head, glancing up. “Of course not.”
“Good.” I breathe out, my chest a little lighter. “Okay.”
“So it’s not going to be AIDS anytime soon?” he asks. There’s an uneasy look on his face. “That sounds stupid, but, like, are you okay? For good?”
“Yeah,” I say, voice soft. “I’m fine.”
“So you’re not going to die?”
“When I’m eighty, maybe,” I say, shrugging. “Eventually. But not now.”
“Are you mad at your mom?”
The question makes me pause. Honestly, I don’t usually think of her as my mother. Maybe, if she were still alive, she’d be like another aunt. She could answer questions about dating with HIV and how to disclose and when to keep it under wraps. But that feels too raw, too personal, to say out loud.
“I don’t think I can be mad at her,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “I have been, before, because she probably could’ve stopped me from getting the virus. But she was really young—I know that—and she had to deal with being sick and pregnant. I think she was probably alone, too. That must’ve been hard.”
I glance at Miles out of the corner of my eye. He’s nodding really big. I’m not sure what to make of it at all, honestly.
“Can I ask more?”
I nod, almost too quickly. My hands fumble to put the note cards back in my pocket. I don’t need them anymore.
“Do you take a lot of pills?”
“Just one a day.”
“Right,” he says, putting his hands in his lap.
“That’s good, right?”
I nod. I almost want to smile. He seems just as nervous as me.
“And…I’m not going to get it by hanging out with you?”
The harder question. I wish I had Dr. Khan here to answer all the questions calmly and professionally, but Miles will have to settle for my awkward answers. Strangely, I don’t feel so awkward anymore. Thinking about my parents makes me feel better. If they chose me, wanted me, other people will, too.
Miles bites his lip. “Was that a stupid question?”
“No, it’s…normal,” I say. “Transmitting HIV by touching is basically impossible, and you can inactivate it with soap if blood spills or anything. The only way you can transmit it is through bodily fluids, like blood or breast milk….”
“Or, like, sperm.”
Now I’m flustered again.
“Well, like, semen,” I say. “Or cum. I don’t know—like, whatever comes out.”
He snickers.
“What?” I say, leaning away from him. “It’s true.”
“You sound so much like a doctor—you have this whole time,” he says, shaking his head. “And then you just say cum. Completely changed the tone.”
“Well, that’s what it is.”
“Yeah,” he says, shrugging. “But it’s—you know.”
I don’t know, but I don’t think I want to find out. There’s too much going on for me to hear him talk about sex. It’s funny, the way I do it with Claudia and Lydia without it being a big deal. To hear him just say the word makes my skin flush. I hate being embarrassed about this.
“Anyway,” I say. “It can’t be transmitted if your viral load—like, the amount of virus they can find in your blood—is undetectable.”
“Is yours?”
“Yeah.” It comes out as a squeak. “It is. I found out on Monday. But my gynecologist says I should wait until it’s been this way for six months.”
I don’t let myself look at his face. There’s more silence now, even though birds are making their nighttime noises, and I can hear cable cars rushing past. It’s probably time for me to get home. I just wish things were more…I don’t know. Resolved. At least I did it. Now no one else can take that away.
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