Full Disclosure

by Camryn Garrett

  “Then it’s not whatever she wants,” Jack points out. “And you hate everything.”

  “Not everything.”

  Oh God. I might puke.

  Ralph has the decency to stand away from the bed. He just looks so pitiful, standing in the corner all by himself. I sigh, patting the spot next to me. Sure, he’s an annoying jerk, but he came here and hasn’t gloated about anything. It’s more than I would’ve expected from him.

  For once, I’m all musical-ed out, so I tell Brie to put on A Different World.

  “What is that?” Jack asks, peering over Brie’s shoulder.

  “I don’t know.” She swats at him. “And I don’t care, as long as it’s good.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” I say, holding up a hand. “Are you guys telling me that you haven’t seen A Different World? The classic television show that is available for streaming in its entirety, easily accessible to watch?”

  “You can’t expect everyone to know about your retro interests,” Ralph says, shrugging.

  I fix him with a glare. That shuts him up.

  “I can’t believe this,” I say, tossing my head back. “I need more black friends.”

  “Come on, Simone. It was on before we were all born.” Brie rolls her eyes, pulling the show up on her screen. “Sadly, we don’t all have your extensive knowledge of eighties culture.”

  “It’s the nineties!” I smack my hands against my lap. “And it’s a black classic. I’m sure all of you have seen at least one black classic, probably Fresh Prince or something.”

  “Fresh Prince is different,” Ralph says. “It was syndicated.”

  A Different World was syndicated, too. Probably.

  “I mean.” Jack nervously glances at Brie. “If it’s a black thing, that would explain why none of us—”

  “Oh my God.” I toss my head back. “It’s just a general classic. I’m sure you guys have seen Friends, and that was on before we were born.”

  “That’s not fair,” Jack says. “Friends is always on.”

  “And it started, like, a few years before we were born,” Brie says. “So it doesn’t really count.”

  Ralph nods. “It’s a false equivalency.”

  “Friends sucks ass,” I say, crossing my arms. “How did they live in New York for all of those years and only meet one black person? It was probably the whitest show on TV. Annnnnnd Ross was such a jerk. Rachel should’ve ended up with Joey. He was actually nice to her.”

  Silence. Ralph has this look—raised eyebrows and a frown—but he doesn’t argue with me. Jack’s eyes are wide.

  “Well,” Brie says, pointing a finger at me. “You’re not wrong there.”

  “We’re not saying we won’t watch your show,” Jack says, reaching for the Doritos. “We just don’t know what it is.”

  “It’s a spin-off of The Cosby Show,” I say. “So it’s like Cosby’s daughter goes off to an HBCU, Hillman, but it was Lisa Bonet, and she got pregnant with Zoë Kravitz and they got rid of Lisa and focused on Dwayne and Whitley and—”

  “Wait, Cosby?” Brie wrinkles her nose. “He’s horrible and—”

  “I know, I know,” I sigh. “But he’s not in the show and all our faves are problematic.”

  Ralph raises a brow. “He’s your fave?”

  “No, no.” I shake my head. “This show is my fave, but there are obviously things wrong with it. There’s something wrong with everything. Come on, put on the first episode.”

  We hover around the computer screen, passing snacks. Ralph complains about the lack of napkins, and Brie fawns over Lisa Bonet (same, obviously). Around the third episode, my phone starts buzzing. Most people have stopped calling by now, so I grab it, frowning at the caller ID. Lydia.

  I drop the phone next to my knee as Jack glances over.

  “Everything okay?” he whispers. I nod, grabbing at the Oreos. It took this long for me to get my mind off things, or at least push them to the back of my brain. I’m not letting Lydia ruin that.

  The thing is, Lydia makes it her mission to wear me down. I kid you not; she calls me almost twenty times. I stare down at the stupid screen. It goes dark for a moment before it lights up again. Even seeing her contact picture makes my heart clench. Part of me wants to talk to her, but the other part can only think of her silence when Claudia yelled at me.

  Screw it. I accept the call, holding the phone to my ear.

  “Simone?” There’s noise in the background, like she’s in a cafeteria or restaurant. “Simone, are you okay?”

  The sound of her voice brings tears to my eyes. I missed her, but I didn’t realize I would start crying before I even saw her again. I’ve missed her voice and her hugs and her worried eyebrows. Everything that’s happened is already so close to spilling out of me, but I hold it in, hurrying into the bathroom and locking the door.

  “Yeah, I’m okay.” My voice is wobbly when I hold the phone back to my ear. “I just—a lot of stuff has happened.”

  That’s the understatement of the year.

  “I hope you’re all right. We’ve been so worried. Claudia—” She stops, clearing her throat. “Can you meet us somewhere? So we can talk?”

  “Oh.” I bite my lip. I’m actually having something close to fun with my Group friends. Who knew that could happen? “I’m actually hanging out with a couple people, so I can’t. But that’s the whole problem, right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We started fighting because I was always ditching you guys,” I say, running a hand through my curls. “And I made it worse by accusing you. I’m sorry for being such a bitch.”

  “You’re not a bitch,” she says. I can tell that she means it. “Listen, we were all upset with each other. We thought you were ignoring us because of Miles, but you were dealing with so much. You still are dealing with a lot, and I don’t wanna stomp on your feelings. It just…It hurt that you thought we could be the ones leaving those notes.”

  “I know,” I say, leaning against the sink. “It’s just, when Sarah told last time, I never would’ve thought—” I swallow, tears clogging my throat.

  “You trusted her,” she says, voice soft. “She was your first.”

  “Yeah. She was.” I swallow. “I guess I just…I figured that if she could do something like that, maybe you guys would. I don’t know. It’s…”

  “It’s a lot,” she says, quiet. “I get it.”

  “Yeah.” I nod once, forgetting that she can’t see me. “But you’re right. We should talk about it. You can come over, if you want.”

  “Can I bring Claudia?”

  I pause. All I can think about is Claudia accusing me of faking.

  “She really wants to apologize,” Lydia says, like she’s reading my mind. “But I can come by myself, if you want.”

  “No, it’s okay,” I say. My entire family is here, along with Brie and Jack, still absorbed in the show. I guess Ralph counts, too. If Claudia has something negative to say, I can turn to the rest of them. “You should both come.”

  “Oh? Okay. That’s good!” I can hear her smiling through the speaker. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” My voice cracks. “I’ll open the door for you.”

  I’m expecting both of them to be out on the porch when the bell rings fifteen minutes later, but I open the door to see Claudia standing alone. Her eyes lock on me. She swallows. Even I’m nervous, wiping sweaty hands on my jeans. She glances back toward her car, probably at Lydia, before turning back to me.

  “Why’d you let me come?” she asks, shoving her hands in her pockets. “I didn’t think you would.”

  My eyes are focused on her hair. It’s shorter, almost like Anne Hathaway’s in Les Mis. She must’ve cut it recently. I’m sure her parents gave her hell once they saw. There’s a pang in my chest at the thought, bu
t I force myself not to look away.

  “I honestly don’t know,” I say, shrugging. “I’m surprised you came.”

  She stares at me for a long minute. If she’s expecting me to say anything else, she’s out of luck.

  “I really missed you,” she finally croaks. “And I can’t believe that I was so messed up to you when you were trying to tell me something important. I know how hard it can be when you come out for the first time. I shouldn’t have jumped on you like that. It was such bullshit and I don’t expect you to forgive me. I…I’m sorry.”

  Worry creases her forehead. At least it means she’s been thinking about this, about me, as much as I’ve been thinking about her. I open the door wider, stepping outside with her.

  “I wanted to tell you sooner,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek. “But I sort of figured—”

  “That I’d act like that.” She sighs, grabbing at her hair. “I suck.”

  My face softens.

  “Only a little,” I admit, hooking an arm around her shoulder. She blinks, surprised. “And anyway, I don’t really know if I count as bi.”

  “You do,” she says with authority. I raise a brow, and she pauses for a second. “I don’t…I know I was really shitty about it, but you definitely do, if that’s how you feel. Lydia had a lot of weird feelings when she first came out, too. Maybe you guys can talk about it.”

  It’s hard to imagine Lydia going through a sexuality crisis. She’s told me about other boys she’s dated—notably, some kid named Kevin freshman year, before I transferred over. She also talks about girls she’s crushing on all the time.

  Maybe it’s part of the reason why we became friends so quickly. Lydia and Claudia are here and queer and don’t think twice about it. They’re sort of like my dads in that way. Maybe, even before we started talking about bisexuality, I already knew we were alike.

  “I’m really sorry,” Claudia says again. “And I get it if you’re still pissed, but I’m glad you let me come over.”

  I knock my shoulder against hers. It’s the first time she’s apologized for anything, at least to me. I’ll take it.

  “Wanna go inside?” I ask, gesturing toward the door with my head. “If we keep talking like this, I might cry.”

  She laughs. I’m not joking.

  Claudia waves at the car, which Lydia promptly jumps out of. It doesn’t take long for her to run over or snake her arms around my neck. I hug her into my other side. If my throat weren’t full of tears, I’d tell them how much I missed them.

  * * *

  I’m sure Brie and Claudia would be married to each other by now if they were single. I barely got through introductions before they started giggling in the corner. Giggling. Brie and Claudia.

  “Wait, she made you watch A Different World?” Claudia shakes her head, chest shaking with laughter. “No way. I think I fell asleep when she first showed me. At least she didn’t make you watch that depressing French musical.”

  “Les Mis is a classic!”

  Brie raises a brow. “You sure do know a lot about classics.”

  “I didn’t know you liked musicals,” Jack says, turning to me. “That’s so cool!”

  “Likes them?” Claudia cackles. “That’s the understatement of the century.”

  “Simone is a director,” Lydia says, squeezing my shoulder. “Our school is doing Rent at the beginning of December. You should come.”

  I haven’t thought about the play in ages. Who even knows what’s gonna happen with that?

  “Well,” I start. “I don’t know about amazing—”

  “No, that’s so cool,” Brie says, head whipping toward me. “I love that movie.”

  The movie? Not the original, groundbreaking Broadway musical that started it all? Okay, girl…

  “We all should go,” Ralph says, his voice soft. “I know I would love to.”

  I almost groan. He’s not allowed to be nice to me. I can’t cry in front of Ralph.

  “Ugh, that shit stain who outed you is working on the play, right?” Claudia wrinkles her nose, grabbing the Doritos bag. “I hope the school administration rips him apart.”

  My stomach flips. I hadn’t even thought about how the administration would respond. It’s one of the things I’ve been shoving to the back of my brain.

  “Wait,” Lydia says, leaning into me. “I’m gonna need you to tell me every single thing that happened since Thursday.”

  “Oh yeah,” Brie says, glancing over. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

  Not particularly. Thinking about Twitter and everyone knowing—even if they think it’s just a rumor—makes me want to throw up. But with Claudia and Lydia on one side and my Group friends on the other, I feel safe enough to talk about it. I don’t feel like I have to handle it all on my own.

  I sigh, plopping on the bed.

  “Sure,” I say, anger rising in my throat. “Let me tell you guys all about that little fucker Jesse.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Between all the people arguing and moving around the house, I barely got any sleep Sunday night. Dad and Dave aren’t fighting anymore, but there are other fights: Dad and Pops arguing about me, Abuela and Abuelo chiming in, Tía Camila telling them all to be quiet. Still, even if my extended family weren’t in town, I probably wouldn’t have slept well anyway.

  Picking up my homework before our Monday meeting with the principal was my idea. I figured it would be easiest—staying at home and coming in after school is better than secretaries in the office gossiping as they gather my work for me. Obviously, I was wrong.

  It only takes a few minutes for me to walk into school, but that’s still enough time for a million eyes to land on me. The hallway goes silent as I pass through, Lydia and Claudia at my sides like bodyguards. Normally, no one looks at me. Normally, people are talking and laughing and interested in their own lives. This is anything but normal.

  “Maybe you don’t need to go to your locker,” Claudia says, sharing a look with Lydia. “There might just be more people there. We can get your stuff for you.”

  “No, it’s fine. I just want to get my shit and get out,” I say, shaking my head. I don’t want to come back after this. I’m sure there are already parents who wish I would leave. I’ll just be doing them a favor.

  My theory is confirmed when we reach my locker. There, in bright red marker, someone has scrawled the words NO SLUTS AT THIS SCHOOL. I don’t know if I should scream or cry, but neither option comes readily. I just blink. Honestly, I expected as much. It’s no different from what I saw on Twitter.

  “Simone,” Lydia starts. “Maybe—”

  I just shake my head, turning down the hallway. It was a stupid idea to show up. Maybe part of me believed it wouldn’t be as bad as I imagined, that people wouldn’t think it was such a big deal. Maybe I thought they’d all write it off as a hoax. Clearly, I was wrong.

  The auditorium doors are open as I walk past. In-school rehearsals—I forgot. The show is this weekend, after all. I peer inside. Ms. Klein is on the stage, in the middle of a speech. Mr. Palumbo stands behind her with his hands folded. I should be relieved that the crew isn’t here, but it doesn’t change the numbness in my chest. I walk in on autopilot, drawn by the cast onstage.

  Ms. Klein glances in my direction and stops abruptly, staring at me like I’m a ghost.

  “Simone,” she says, voice soft. “Can I speak with you privately?”

  At her words, heads turn and whispers start. I want to groan. If she hadn’t said anything, I could’ve walked out of here without being noticed.

  Ms. Klein walks offstage, heading toward the hallway. I hurry behind her. There are eyes on me during the entire walk of shame.

  “Look,” she says once we’re outside. “I know this is probably a really hard time for you. I want you to know that we took the tweets down and suspende
d the account.”

  “Oh,” I say. It doesn’t do much for me now, but it’s the nicest she’s been to me all year. “Thank you.”

  “You aren’t alone,” she says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “We’re all behind you.”

  I give her a closed-lip smile.

  “But,” she says, “you don’t have to think of this as a bad thing.”

  “What?” I can’t tell if I’m misunderstanding or if she’s trying to be deep. “I don’t even know how that would—”

  “I’m sure other people would feel bad if they knew what happened,” she says, lowering her voice even more, like she’s giving me a hint about a birthday present. “Especially some of the judges at the High School Theater Awards.”

  I blink. For a second, I’m speechless.

  “You know what?” I snap. “Screw you.”

  She has the nerve to look offended. “Simone—”

  “Ms. Klein,” thunders Mr. Palumbo. We both turn to look at him. He’s in front of us, blocking the door so no one else can see. He must’ve followed us out here. “I’m going to ask you to leave rehearsal for today. This is a safe space, and that rule applies to all students.”

  “You’re not my superior,” she says, red traveling up her neck and into her cheeks. “I still have so much to tend to here, and I don’t appreciate being spoken to like I’m one of the children.”

  “We can take it up with the principal, if you’d like,” Mr. Palumbo says. Some of the kids murmur ooooh. Even from over here, a swift look from him shuts them up. “I don’t mind cancelling the rest of the rehearsal.”

  “Fine, let’s go,” Ms. Klein says curtly, marching down the hall. He moves to follow her but then stops in front of me.

  “You’re very brave, Simone,” he says.

  I don’t get the chance to reply before he’s gone, leaving everyone to stare at me. I feel like a goldfish trapped in its bowl. But goldfish never have this many people watching them. Some kids jump offstage and walk closer. God, I almost feel like a Kardashian.