by K. A. Holt
away.
Huh?
Earth to Tam.
Over and out, Levi.
Sorry, man.
I have to jet.
I jump up, grab my tray.
I can’t sit here anymore
and listen to the noise.
I have to get out
before I go over there
and serve those boys
over the closest net
I can find.
TAM
She catches my arm
as I rush into class,
hooks her pinkie in my bracelet,
holding me fast.
Hey.
What’s up today?
Are you okay?
I missed you at lunch.
I’m fine.
It’s nothing.
Plus, you sat with
the squad
first.
You’re mad.
I’m not.
You are!
Why?
You know you can always come
over,
you can always sit with us.
I pick at the puffy paint
still stuck to my thumb.
I don’t know.
It’s not that.
It’s . . . the T-shirt making thing.
I guess I didn’t have a very good time.
I could tell.
I’m sorry.
I thought it might be fun.
A girls’ afternoon—
The thing is,
you’re different around them.
What do you mean?
I’m always . . . me
I shrug.
It just felt weird.
I felt weird.
Well that’s no reason
to be mad at ME.
I said I wasn’t mad.
I wanted you to be part of the group.
I wanted you to hang out with us.
I know.
It’s fine.
It’s just—the you I know
was different than the you
who showed up.
Kate
What does she mean
the me she knows
is different than the me
who showed up?
My sandwich rocks threaten
to hurl themselves up my throat.
No one else seems to know
about the different Kates
and which one I choose to be,
but if Tam sees it
someone else will too
and then you know what will happen?
I will have to choose.
Which Kate is the real Kate?
What will I do?
Kate
Other people are other people
who do other things
that you hear about
from other people
always talking about they.
And so what does it mean
when one day
the things other people say,
the things they do,
the things they are,
are the things you do,
the things you are?
What happens on the day
when they
become you
and the other people
other people talk about
are staring at you in the mirror,
that used to just show your face
instead of the face of they?
TAM
You look embattled,
Grandneighbor.
What’s going on?
Huh?
Troubled.
Worried.
Stressed.
Oh.
I don’t know.
It’s a lot of stuff.
I eat a Swiss roll.
Frankie watches me,
her hieroglyph eye
studying.
Frankie?
Hmm?
Does Roxy ever act weird?
When the two of you go out?
Roxy is always weird.
Ha.
I don’t mean like that.
I mean . . . does she act like
someone else?
Or like she wishes you were
different?
More normal?
Frankie opens her mouth.
She doesn’t say anything.
My stomach drops as I watch
her face
change.
I didn’t mean normal,
I meant . . .
Roxy loves me as I am.
As I do her.
I nod.
Keep my mouth shut
before I say something
even more stupid.
Kate
The driveway is three trucks deep
on my way home
from practice.
Floor guys.
Kitchen people.
A window thing.
It’s so easy.
Too easy.
To text Mom,
to say:
I’m at the library
finishing up that project
pick me up later?
It’s so easy
to text Jill
to say:
hey.
wanna get dinner?
And now here we are.
Cheeseburgers and milkshakes
again.
Can I ask you a question?
I blurt,
my mouth speaking
without permission.
Do you think it’s bad
for there to be two of me?
Like . . . a cheer-me
and a Tam-me?
Because you didn’t see
the meltdown that happened
with the MDOMG T-shirts,
and Jill,
I don’t think I can figure out a way
for there to just be a me-me
who fits everywhere.
I don’t know how to fit Tam
into all of my worlds,
so can’t I keep her separate?
Do you think that would be okay with her?
Do you think that would work?
Kate
I take it you haven’t talked to
Mom.
About the pinkies?
About Tam?
About anything?
No.
There’s just no way.
What would I even say?
I think you know
exactly
what you’d say.
But why does she need to know?
Don’t you want her to know
who
exactly
you are?
No?
Oh, come on.
I know you do.
Don’t let her bully you
into being someone
who isn’t you.
Kate
Bully ME, huh?
So when will you
tell Mom
your secret, then?
When will you tell her
you’re back in town?
When will you talk to her
about Tam?
I know you don’t get along,
but she’d probably like to know.
I know you’re scared
to talk about your feelings,
but she’d probably like to know.
Are you ever going to tell her?
Are you?
If I do, will you?
Oooh. Interesting twist.
Okay, yes. Sure.
I will if you will.
Deal.
But who goes first?
TAM
Hey, stranger.
Come here for a second?
I hold up my pinkie,
my Muppet voice says,
I brought you a cookie,
wanna go somewhere
and share it with me?
Kate looks around
like someone in a movie
being tracke
d by the CIA
then quickly holds up her pinkie
and quietly Muppet-voices:
Sure.
Kids move all around us,
running to the buses,
walking to their parents’ cars,
so no one notices us
slip off to the grove of trees
behind the school.
We lean against a tree,
taking bites of the cookie,
sitting,
quiet,
shoulders touching.
She plays with the bracelet
on my wrist.
This thing is getting dirty,
you must really like it
to wear it so much.
I smile.
She grins back.
Time slows down
just a bit,
the clouds pause,
the sun sparkles,
I look at Kate, my Kate,
she looks at me back.
We hold our gaze for a long time,
until I lean in closer
and she leans in, too
and then I flick her nose hard
with the edge of my finger.
OW!
She pushes my shoulder,
and I fall to the side,
laughing so hard,
You had a bug on your nose!
I swear!
Kate grabs her nose,
giggling, too,
and shoves me some more
until we’re both in the grass
looking up into the branches,
breathing fast.
Kate
I know I’m acting weird,
I say to the clouds.
I’m sorry.
There’s just a lot going on,
with this mascot stuff.
And I have to tell my mom
I don’t care about cheer captain
anymore.
I think I’m going to run
for class president, instead.
Did I tell you that?
Honestly, Tam,
I don’t know who to be.
I mean, of course I’m me.
It’s just that the me I am
is usually the me Mom wants me to be.
It’s all very confusing.
I’ve worked so hard to be the me
Mom wants
that I’ve never really thought of the me
I want.
What if my me isn’t the cheer me or the captain me?
Or the possible president me?
What if my me is entirely different than the Mom-me?
And Tam . . . what if Mom doesn’t like the me-me
just like she didn’t like Jill’s-me?
What if the me-me isn’t as good
or smart
or perfect
as the Mom-me?
Then who will I be?
Nobody?
TAM
Listen, if you figure out
the mom-you
isn’t who
you are?
If you decide to
burn all that down
and start being who
you really are?
I’ll be here to help you
put the fire out.
Burn it all down?
Just . . . when you’re ready
to be you-you.
I’ll be your girl,
right by your side.
My girl?
Yeah . . .
me-me and you-you.
Together-together.
That’s what I mean.
Together-together.
I like how that sounds.
Pinkie-to-pinkie.
Pinkie-to-pinkie.
That’s exactly what I mean.
Kate
I love these moments,
the ones that feel like
everything
and everyone
disappears
and it’s only us
in the whole world.
It makes me think that
if something feels
so perfectly right like this,
if the universe can hold us
in its hands like this,
then of course nothing’s weird
or wrong
or different.
It makes me want to stay
right here
under this tree
forever
to memorize
how things
can be so simple
so normal
for just a minute
even when they aren’t.
TAM
President, huh?
Kate starts to laugh.
Her head leans into my shoulder.
I don’t know what else to do.
Have you ever thought about doing less,
instead of more?
She just laughs harder.
Um, have you ever met my mom?
Kate
Have I met my mom?
Am I really going to do this?
Am I really going to say it?
It’s the only thing I can think about.
And Jill said she’ll talk to Mom
if I do it first.
And Tam said she’d be by my side
if I want to be me-me.
And I think about sitting under the tree,
just Tam and me,
and how the world seemed
so simple and right . . .
and oh, man.
Here it goes.
I’m really going to do it.
Hey, Mom?
Mom?
What would you say
if I said
I think maybe
I’m, like,
I don’t know
maybe
seventy-five percent
gay?
Mom?
Can you stop vacuuming?
Mom?
What would you say?
Kate
You’re not gay, Katherine,
is what she said,
whispering
gay
her face,
like stone,
her eyes,
like glass,
cool,
unblinking,
black.
Gay?
Still whispering.
You’re too young to know . . .
that.
Still whispering.
Way too young
to be . . .
that . . .
Still whispering.
You’re a normal girl.
A beautiful, smart leader.
Look at you!
Katherine.
Are you hearing me?
You’re not gay.
What would people think?
There’s just . . .
there’s no way.
Okay?
Now it’s my turn to whisper:
Okay.
Okay.
No more whispering.
Can you lift those couch cushions?
We need to straighten up around here.
I swear.
There’s still flour everywhere.
Kate
She says all these things
about laundry and dinner and
the grocery list and the mess
by the front door.
She doesn’t look up as she moves
from room to room
picking up stuff
finding shoes
muttering about how I don’t listen to her.
But she never looks at me.
She never sees me.
She doesn’t understand
that if she took a breath,
stopped always moving and talking,
that she might see
the one who needs to be listened to
is actually me.
Kate
I stare at myself
reflected in the toaster,
&nb
sp;
