by Foxglove Lee
Mila laughed so hard she couldn’t even attempt to blow out the little dancing flames. Wiping tears from her eyes, she said, “You’ve given me a night to remember, that’s for sure.”
“It wasn’t too terrible?”
“No, it was terrible -- too terrible to ever forget.”
“Well, thank you very much,” Laura snorted.
“Sorry. I just mean… it’s one of those stories people tell their grandkids -- our first birthday together, when we burned the meat and lost the cat…”
“Oh, blow out your candles!” Laura said, chuckling.
She did. She blew them all out, all in one go. “Look! No boyfriends.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“When I was a little kid, every time you blew out candles on a cake, you’d have one boyfriend for every candle you missed. If you blew out all the candles, no boyfriends. That was the goal. Didn’t you do that with your friends?”
“Nope. It’s cute, though.” Laura turned her around and kissed her -- a sweet happy birthday kiss Mila hoped would never end.
But when it did end, four words slipped from Mila’s lips, out of the blue. “I love you, Laura.”
“I love you too.” Laura hugged her close.
“I’m sorry I was hiding you from the neighbors and everything. Only, my aunt specified no visitors while she was away, and especially no boys.”
“And you didn’t tell her, ‘I’m not interested in boys, Aunt Qeisha. I have a girlfriend, and I love her to pieces.’ You let her think exactly what your dad thinks -- that we’re just good friends.”
“It’s easier that way. My family’s had enough to worry about since mom died.” Tears welled in Mila’s eyes, and she set her head on Laura’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Laura said, with a smile in her voice. “Anyway, I’m one to talk, right? My family’s totally oblivious.”
“Do you think you’ll ever tell them about us?” Mila raised her head from Laura’s shoulder. Laura’s eyes shimmered. They were gorgeous, like jewels.
“Maybe one day.” Laura kissed Mila’s nose and smiled. “But we don’t have to worry about that now. We’ve got an entire chocolate cake to eat.”
Laughter bubbled up in Mila’s belly. “Come on, then. Let’s get started!”
Dress Like A Dude
Mila couldn’t stop glancing at Laura’s hand as they walked back from The Goof. She’d saved five dollars from her allowance just to afford Thursday’s almond beef special, but totally worth it. Even if The Good Food Café couldn’t afford to fix their burnt-out neon sign, they sure made delicious stir-fries.
Now her belly was full—almost too full, actually—and all she could think about was hooking her pinky around Laura’s pinky. Her girlfriend’s pinky. Nobody would notice. Jaden probably wouldn’t even notice as he walked on Laura’s far side, on the sunbaked September grass.
Not that it would matter if he saw. Jaden knew about them. Nobody else did, really, but they trusted him. Jaden was gay too, so who was he to judge?
It was sort of weird, coming back to the structure of school after a summer of lolling around. Not that Mila didn’t work—she did, she worked as a junior camp counsellor for the world’s most adorably annoying kids—but at four o’clock her day was done. No homework. No papers. No projects. Just free time spent with Laura, kissing on the couch when her dad wasn’t home, being together and feeling like an actual couple. Like a real couple.
And then September rolled around. The moment they walked through those green double doors they were right back where they left off in June. Secretive, closeted. Nobody could know.
But maybe that’s the way Mila wanted it. She really wasn’t sure. Was she ready to deal with the repercussions of coming out at school? Coming out to more than just Jaden? Because if she did, even if it went okay, one of her teachers might mention it at parents’ night and then what? She’d have to talk to her father about being a lesbian. The thought sent a chill right through her.
Look at Laura’s fingers!
Look at the way she sort of curled them as her hand swung with every step. Laura had such pretty fingers—oval nails, no polish, unbitten. Long white fingers, like a model’s. Mila’s were short, stubby, brown with a tint of pink in the creases. She’d painted her nails with White-Out for no reason in particular. In class, she’d coated the shiny surface with highlighters and then drew flowers and checkerboard patterns on top in pen. Her hands were so ugly that even when she tried to make them look better they only ended up looking worse.
Laura’s fingers were so pretty…
Just as Mila swung her hand close enough to hook her pinky around her secret girlfriend’s pinky, Laura stopped in her tracks.
“Sorry,” Mila said, but Laura was obviously listening to Jaden and not her.
He pointed up ahead, pointed at the school and said, “What’s going on over there?”
Oh yeah… everyone was out on the lawn. Usually it was just the dance girls and the smokers, although the smokers were supposed to stand across the street because they weren’t allowed to smoke on school property.
“Maybe there was a fire drill,” Mila said.
“Or a bomb threat!” Laura covered her mouth with both hands and gasped. Oh, those pretty fingers! Moving her hands to her cheeks, she asked, “Do you think there was some kind of… you know… something bad? Something really bad?”
“Like a shooter?” Jaden asked. “Nah, there’d be police cars and SWAT teams and stuff. And look—those guys have signs. Maybe it’s a protest.”
“A protest?” Laura’s hands slid down the clean white straps of her backpack. “I hope afternoon classes are cancelled. Mr. Lin’s been giving pop quizzes every day. It’s so annoying.”
“What are they protesting?” Mila asked. “I can’t see what those signs say.” They were written with Sharpie on broken-down cardboard boxes. Not very creative.
“If it’s political stuff, who cares?” Jaden asked. “Let’s just go home.”
Laura grabbed his arm before he could leave. “No, I want to find out. Maybe it’s about the cafeteria raising the price of fries. Sandy and all her people were really mad about that.”
“It’s not Sandy and the humanitarians this time.” Mila didn’t recognize the kids putting on the protest. “Minor niners? Look how young they are. And it’s mainly all guys. That’s weird.”
“Maybe Coach Kinney’s been supervising showers after gym class,” Jaden joked.
Laura said, “Maybe Coach Kinney’s jumping in the showers after gym class!”
Jaden laughed along, but Mila was too intrigued by the strange scene to really pay attention. Ninth graders making a spectacle of themselves? That didn’t usually happen, and definitely not at the start of the school year. They should all be hiding in fear of whatever imaginary threats were lurking behind every corner of their active imaginations.
Mila crept onto the patch of grass that divided school property from the neighbouring houses—an island between the driveway and a chain link fence. She wandered far enough to see what was going on without running the risk of becoming part of it.
Dress Like A Dude!
Guys Shouldn’t Wear Girl Clothes!
You’re A Boy So Act Like A Boy!
Ducking under a tall pine, Mila checked to make sure Jaden and Laura had followed. When she spotted them just behind her, she said, “I wonder what that’s about.”
From behind the aging pine, a young man’s voice crackled, “If you’re so curious I can tell you.”
Mila nearly jumped out of her canvas running shoes when she spotted the surly-looking guy seated against the fence. He was dressed in black from head to toe and sitting with his back somewhat hunched, his forearms resting on his arched knees. His skin gleamed like polished bronze and he had a mop of black curls that shone even though he was cast in shade.
“Sorry,” Mila said. “I didn’t realize anyone was over here.”
He st
ared at her with eyes rimmed in black liner. Something about him made her feel awkward. When she looked away, she caught herself focusing on his silver rings: skulls and bones and gory gloomy things.
The way he fixated on her felt so threatening she didn’t know what to say. So she simply said, “Sorry, I missed that.”
“I can tell you what they’re all worked up about,” the boy replied. “Because they’re all worked up about me.”
“You?” Laura asked over Mila’s shoulder. “Why? What did you do?”
“They feel threatened because I don’t conform to arbitrary gender norms.” The young boy folded his knees down to sit cross-legged, and as he did Mila realized that his black pants were actually an ankle-length skirt made of long, flowing fabric. “I wear what I feel like, and I don’t care what they think. Look at them all in their matching jeans and T-shirts—uniform of the masses. What a bunch of sheep.”
Mila felt like she was in a dream. This was really odd. The boy’s voice sounded so young, but he was incredibly well-spoken. He sounded smarter than most of their teachers.
“What’s wrong with jeans and a T-shirt?” Jaden asked. That’s what he was wearing. So was Laura, for that matter. Only Mila was dressed a little differently, in threadbare cords and a tank top she’d made out of canvas tote bag. She’d thrown one of her dad’s old work shirts overtop to complete the ensemble.
“Gee, I’m so sorry.” The guy in black tilted his head sarcastically. “Sounds like you don’t want people critiquing your fashion choices. Now you know how I feel.”
Jaden looked taken aback. “All those kids are just wearing normal clothes. There’s nothing wrong with dressing like a normal person.”
“But there is something wrong with dressing like a freak, right?” The boy in black grinned. “Wouldn’t want to be different. Wouldn’t want to challenge the status quo, because then we might have to ask why… and once we start asking why, it’s like pulling a thread. All of white North American society falls apart right before your eyes.”
Laura looked quickly at the ground, and Jaden took one angry step forward. Mila knew exactly why. It was just one word: white. Neither Laura nor Jaden was all that comfortable talking about the impact a person’s skin color had on every little part of their life. It was easier to buy into all that “post-racial society” nonsense. Easier not to think about it.
The young man stood slowly, giving them the full effect of his unusual outfit. He didn’t just have on a long black skirt, but also a long, tailored jacket. His look reminded Mila of The Matrix. He looked really… good!
“I like your coat thing,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “That makes two of us.”
Was he flirting with her? A minor niner boy flirting with a tenth-grade girl? Now, that was unheard of! Even though she didn’t usually like it when guys came on to her, the novelty of the situation amused her.
“I think you look like an idiot,” Jaden said. “You’re just trying to get attention.”
“Jaden!” Laura smacked him.
“Have you never seen Middle Eastern men wearing thawbs—long robes that go all the way down to their feet?” The boy remained completely calm. “Do you think they look like idiots too?”
“Yes!” Jaden shot back.
Laura smacked him again, harder this time. “Jaden, shut your mouth! I mean it!”
“Ignore him,” Mila told the boy.
“I try, but they’re all like him.” He glanced over her shoulder, to the minor niners protesting his apparel. “They’re all the same—small-minded pricks.”
“Excuse me?” Jaden stepped forward, but Laura caught him by the arm and tugged him back.
“Do you wear this for cultural reasons?” Mila asked, trying to be sensitive.
The boy laughed. “No. Do I look Middle Eastern to you?”
He sort of did, but she wasn’t about to say so and risk sounding stupid.
“I wear what I feel like wearing. I don’t care what other people consider girl clothes and boy clothes. It’s all so stupid. They’re all so stupid. They call me faggot.”
Mila’s gaydar was spot-on, and this kid wasn’t sparking a reaction. “I don’t think you’re gay. I mean, I can tell you’re not.”
“And what’s wrong with being gay?” Jaden asked, spitefully, as Laura held him back. “You’re gay, Mila. Or had you forgotten that because you spend so much time in the closet?”
She breathed in sharply. Tears needled her eyes, though she wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t ashamed of being a lesbian, but as she glanced at Laura’s moon-like expression she realized she was ashamed of herself for another reason. She was ashamed of being so afraid of coming out. If only she could be more like this kid, who didn’t care what other people thought.
Just when the tears threatened to fall, something happened to scare them right out of her system. Another kid swaggered up the parking lot, walking like a little tough. A Nazi, neo-Nazi, whatever they were called. Just look at him, with that eerily shaven head, military fatigue cut-offs and a ratty sort of jacket-vest. Without any sleeves, it showed off a huge range of swastika tattoos. How was that allowed in school? How come the ninth graders were protesting one guy wearing a skirt when another looked like this?
“Hey, Trent!” the Nazi called out, raising his hand in a heil salute.
Oh God, he was going to kick the crap out of this boy in black, this boy named Trent. Maybe he’d beat them all up! Nazis weren’t so nice to gays and lesbians, were they? This swastika kid was short and slim, but he looked scrappy. He looked like a fighter. Oh God, oh God oh God…
Oh wait a minute… that wasn’t a Nazi salute. He was just waving. Just a normal wave.
Trent waved back. “Pawell!”
When the kid came closer, Trent put an arm around the guy’s shoulder. Mila realized those weren’t swastika tattoos up and down his arms. They weren’t tattoos at all. His skin was a field of tic-tac-toe games, drawn in pen. Mila glanced down at her fingernails, which she’d scrawled on during class, and she felt guilty for thinking such mean things about this guy, who was obviously a friend of Trent’s.
Pawell asked, “These kids hassling you?”
“Only that one.” Trent pointed to Jaden. “But it’s fine. When he can’t sleep tonight, he’ll realize he’s only being a jerk to me because he’s so uncomfortable with himself.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jaden piped up.
The punk kid, Pawell, said to Trent, “The Principal’s looking for you.”
Trent’s eyes widened, and for a brief moment he seemed overcome with a childlike brand of fear. That quickly dissipated, and his expression of snarky dismissiveness took hold. “What does she want?”
“Pfft!” Pawell nodded toward the group of protesters outside the front steps. “What do you think she wants?”
With a grumble, Trent let his friend lead him toward the side entrance. He didn’t say goodbye. Mila wasn’t sure why she thought he would, but as she watched his long skirt kicking around his feet she really wished he’d turn back and wave or something.
“What a freak,” Jaden grunted.
In a small, calm voice, Laura asked, “Why? Because he’s wearing a skirt? Who even cares?”
“All those kids over there care enough to make signs and protest at their new high school.” Jaden set his hands on his hips and stood with a self-righteous hip popped. “If you ask me, that takes guts.”
“No it doesn’t.” Mila couldn’t stand his smug reproaches. “So what? A bunch of white males upholding the status quo. Whoop-de-doo! So revolutionary!”
“They’re not all white.” Laura’s voice grew so small it receded into her before she’d even crossed her t and dotted her i.
“I just think he’s making people look bad,” Jaden said.
Mila shook her head. “What people?”
Laura’s tiny voice jumped in to say, “It’s not like there’s a dress code here, like at schools that have uniforms. I mean,
there’s nothing that says boys have to wear boy clothes and girls have to wear girl clothes. Right?”
Mila wasn’t sure how to respond. Laura was only skimming the surface of the issue, and probably only to show she was on Mila’s side.
Laura tried again. “It’s a human rights violation to discriminate against someone based on their gender identity.”
“But this isn’t about the kid’s identity.” Jaden tugged his arm away from her grip. “That kid, he identifies as a guy, right?”
“I think so,” Laura said, looking to Mila for answers. “That’s the impression I got.”
Mila asserted herself, even though she wasn’t one hundred percent sure. “Yeah he’s a guy, but a gender-nonconforming guy. A guy who doesn’t buy into stupid social expectations.”
“Gender-nonconforming? Is that an identity?” Laura asked, innocently. “I don’t know much about this stuff.” She looked to Jaden this time.
“Hey, don’t ask me! I’m only gay, I’m not some freaky drag queen or whatever that guy is.”
“I don’t think he’s a drag queen,” Laura said, like the mom settling a dispute between her naughty children. “It’s not like he’s pretending to be a girl or acting like a girl or whatever.”
“So he’s a cross-dresser,” Jaden said, flatly. “He probably sucks off closet jocks behind the dumpster.”
“No, that’s just you.” Laura was obviously trying to lighten the mood, but her joke fell flat.
“He’s rejecting binaries and social constructs,” Mila said. “Why is that so hard for you to wrap your head around? What difference does it make in your life whether some minor niner wears pants or a skirt?”
“Look,” Jaden said, like he was trying to negotiate with her. “It would be different if he were trans or whatever. Because then it’s like… if you identify as a girl, fine, you’re a girl. If you identify as a boy, fine, you’re a boy. It would be easier to deal with.”
Laura stepped forward and asked the absolute perfect question: “It would be easier for him or easier for you?”
Jaden furrowed his brow. He obviously felt the sting planted in her voice, because he shook his head and said, “Whatever.”