Both Can Be True

by Jules Machias

  Maybe Ash is my type. Maybe I’m down on the dance because I was sort of hoping in the back of my mind that I might ask Ash.

  There’s no way I’m asking her now. Even if she is cute and funny and loves dogs and I’m sure she’d say yes. I can’t believe she told Bella. If it gets Chewbarka killed . . .

  That can’t happen.

  But I’ve run out of options and time. I need to get in touch with Tina. She’s the only adult who might be able to help now.

  All through second period, I work on drumming up some guts to call the vet office by thinking about how much Chewbarka needs me. When the bell rings, I duck into the bathroom and dial, my heart pounding and my palms sweating.

  A receptionist answers the phone. I stumble through explaining that I’m the kid who volunteers in the afternoons, that I’m wondering if she can give me Tina’s number because I want to see how her daughter’s doing. I hear another phone line ringing, and people talking.

  “Sorry, kid, it’s busy here,” the woman says. “No time to chase down a number. I’ll have someone call you later.”

  “Okay,” I say quickly and hang up.

  Crap. I didn’t give her my number.

  I thump my head on the stall door. I wonder how much trouble I’d be in if I just walked out of school and went to the tent. If the trouble would be worth Chewbarka’s life.

  21

  Confession

  Ash

  By lunchtime, I can’t keep it in anymore. I sit with Griffey and everything pours out: how Bella found the Gatorade video and is gonna blackmail me. How Daniel hates me now and all I wanted to do was help save this dog and keep Daniel from falling apart. How I feel like I’m falling apart now, and I was going to tell Daniel, I really was, about not being a girl, but now he’ll find out from someone else and I can’t even—

  “Whoa, calm down.” Griffey grabs my arms and looks at my face. “Just so I have this right . . . Bella’s threatening to out you if you don’t tell her where the dog is?”

  “Yes.” I’m practically hyperventilating. “And Daniel will see it and he’ll hear those kids deadnaming me and calling me the flip-flop freak and he’ll know I’m not always a girl—like I’m not anymore, I’m a guy now—” I hiccup on the fear. “And what if he pulls a Tyler? What if Bella’s dad finds out and Chewbarka gets killed and it’s all my fault?” I cover my face and try to get a full breath in. Crying is not an Asher thing. It’s all Ashley.

  “Lord, boy.” Griff pulls me in for a hug. He’s the very best friend on earth because he knows exactly how long he can do it before I crack. He pushes me away at just the right second. “How’d she find the video?”

  “I don’t know. It’s everywhere on social. It couldn’t have been hard to find a purple-haired Oakmont kid named Ash Haley who can’t pick a gender.”

  “We’re gonna fix this,” Griff says with certainty.

  “How?” I ask, reeling my freak-out in.

  His eyes narrow and he gets that hint of a smile before he does something that winds up with him in trouble. “You’ll see,” he says.

  He won’t tell me anything else.

  I don’t know if I feel better or not.

  In photography class, we finally get to take our pinhole cameras out of the room to do our photos. I’m getting big ol’ leave-me-alone vibes from Daniel, so I go left out of the room, even though the plan I wrote yesterday involves the mural by the cafeteria and now I’m walking the wrong way. I glance back to see if Daniel’s gone yet. He’s way at the other end of the hall, looking like he wants to talk to me. But then he steps around the corner and is gone.

  I slide down the wall, hug my oatmeal box, watch the clock, and wait. If I used my pinhole camera right now to make a selfie, I could title my photo Angsty teen boy huddled in hallway, tag it #emo, and collect a slew of likes from other angsty kids.

  I doubt there are many middle schoolers with this particular flavor of angst. I don’t want to lie to Daniel about being a girl anymore. It feels like I’m wearing a mask over the truth of who I am. But I don’t want to lose him either. He’s one of the most caring people I’ve ever met. He cares even when it hurts him. When it’s inconvenient. When it gets him in trouble and costs him his friends. I love that about him.

  I hope his compassion means there’s a future where I can be who I am without losing him.

  Daniel doesn’t show up till almost the end of the period. He sees me sitting in my angst ball on the floor and steps into the classroom.

  I hurry to the mural and set up my camera. I wrote on my plan that I’d expose it for twenty seconds, but twelve seconds in, I bump the oatmeal box with my elbow. The shot will be ruined if I don’t cover the pinhole. I strap the cardboard flap over it with the rubber band and rush back to class. I’m the last one in the room. Ms. Bernstein gives me an irritated look.

  The whole bus ride home, I go back and forth about what to do. By the time I get off at my stop, I know all the shouting I’m doing in my head is totally pointless, that it’s time to tell Daniel. Like right now. Before Bella outs me.

  I bike to the tent slow as witch’s snot in January, even though I should hurry so I beat Mom home. I’m gonna lose Daniel over this. He’s already mad I told Bella. I don’t think he’ll team up with a bunch of scumbags to pin me in the grass and yank my head back and dump Gatorade up my nose while he screams “Flip-flop freak!” at me. But I didn’t think Tyler would either, and now there’s a video of it all up on the interwebs where anybody can find it. Thanks to Camille, who I still haven’t talked to since I yelled at her for posting it.

  I should’ve known someone here would figure it out. That moving was only a temporary fix. That I couldn’t hide it when I switched again.

  I’m so doomed. My whole life is gonna be like this.

  Daniel is curled up with Chewbarka by the tent, looking miserable. “Hey,” I say quietly.

  He nods but doesn’t look up.

  “Can I sit down?”

  He shrugs.

  “I didn’t tell her you have her,” I say. “She doesn’t know it’s you.”

  He looks at me sideways, then down at his feet.

  I take a deep breath. “She’s going to . . . tomorrow, she’s going to tell people . . . about me. Um.” I tuck my hands under my legs. “Like that’s . . .” A flattened laugh comes out. “The price I’m paying. To keep her in the dark about you having Chewbarka. I’m gonna . . . let that happen. To keep your secret. Okay?”

  Daniel just looks confused.

  My heart is trying to wham its way out of me. “There was this guy. Um. At my old—where we used to live, our old apartment complex. I liked him. His name was Tyler. He—”

  Daniel’s phone rings the “Radiate” tone. The liquidy minor chord ripples through the air between us. He looks at the screen. “It’s the vet. I have to answer.”

  I nod, frustrated and relieved at the same time.

  “Hello?” Daniel says.

  “Daniel,” a guy with a deep voice says. The phone volume is turned up enough that I can hear every word. “Explain why my client Mark McBrenner says his daughter told him a kid at school has their dog. The one I euthanized last week.”

  Oh no.

  “Um—” Daniel’s voice is a squeak. He clears his throat. “Um, I’m not sure?”

  “I know Tina didn’t finish the euth. But she doesn’t go to Oakmont Middle. You do.”

  “Um, what’s—what’s going to happen to Tina?” Daniel’s gone white as a sheet. He looks like he’s about to hurl.

  “Tina’s been fired. Where’s the dog?”

  “I don’t—I don’t know.” He looks at Chewbarka sniffing a tree.

  “You need to bring the dog back.” The guy sounds furious, even over a tinny phone speaker. “Immediately.”

  “I can’t,” Daniel whispers. He hangs up. And right away he’s sobbing. “They know,” he chokes. “They’re gonna kill her.” He stumbles over to Chewbarka, grabs her, and hugs her tight.


  Chewbarka struggles in his desperate grip. I take her from him as gently as I can. He doesn’t want to let her go, but I can tell he knows he needs to so that he doesn’t hug her too hard. “Look,” I say as calmly as I can. “This might be the only way to save her. What if we give her to Bella and—”

  “No!” He covers his face with his fists, his shoulders shaking. “How can you say that?”

  “She loves her dog. She was crying when she realized Chewy was still alive. What if there’s a chance she could talk her dad out of it? I don’t even like Bella, but it’s the only thing I can think of that might save—”

  “You’re just saying that so she won’t tell everyone whatever you’re hiding!” He presses his face to his knees. “You’re just trying to save yourself!”

  I lean back with the dog, feeling gut-punched. “I just told you I’m letting her out me. To protect you and Chewbarka. Did you miss that?”

  “Out you? What, you’re . . . are you gay? Then why’d you kiss—”

  “I’m not—I mean maybe, I don’t—” I groan in frustration. “I was trying to tell you. Before the vet called.”

  “Oh yeah. You were telling me about some guy you liked.” He finally looks at me, his teary eyes all anger and confusion.

  “Yeah.” I swallow. It’s now or never, so I guess it’s now. “Tyler and some other kids pinned me down and screamed nasty stuff at me. My friend filmed it and posted it. Tyler poured purple Gatorade up my nose. Because I told him who I am.”

  “Wait, that’s—that was the bullying? He hurt you?” Daniel has about a hundred expressions on his face. “What does that mean, who you are?”

  “I’m—I’m Ash. That’s it.” My lunch wants to come back out. “Like sometimes Ashley. Sometimes Asher. But always just . . . Ash.”

  “You’re—oh my god.” He leans away from me. “You’re saying you’re a guy?”

  “Not always. I mean, I am now. But I wasn’t before.” I sound like the flip-flop freak the Bailey bullies said I am. But . . . it’s a strange relief to have it out there.

  “I kissed a guy,” he says. “You’re telling me I kissed a guy.”

  “You kissed me,” I tell him. “Or I guess I kissed you, really, but I was a girl then and . . .” I feel so sick. “But I mean—would it be so wrong? If you did kiss a guy?”

  Daniel stares at me, his face unreadable. Then he goes into the tent and comes out with Chewbarka’s leash. He takes her from me and puts the leash around her neck. “You should go.”

  Tears spring to my eyes. I feel empty and alone and so incredibly rejected and stupid and wrong I can barely breathe. “What are you going to do about Chewbarka?”

  Daniel angrily smears at his face. “I don’t know. There are zero good options.”

  “But—”

  His phone rings. “Please just go.”

  I stand up and brush the dirt and leaves off my jeans. The woods swim in my vision. Daniel’s phone rings again. “I just wanted to help you and Chewbarka,” I say. “This whole time. I promise.”

  He won’t look at me.

  22

  Just for Now

  Daniel

  The phone rings again. It’s Mom. Dr. Snyder must have called her, he must have told her I have Chewbarka. She’s calling to ream me out, to tell me to get my butt home this instant so she can figure out what to do with me.

  I send the call to voice mail. “This isn’t your problem,” I tell Ash. “It never was.”

  “But I care about—”

  “I know,” I tell her. Him?

  Him.

  God. She lied to me. Or he did. I don’t know. I just know that I care is true, because look at everything Ash has done to try to help me save Chewbarka.

  It doesn’t matter now. They’re going to kill this dog, who’s done nothing wrong. Who just wants someone to hold her at night when it’s cold.

  My throat goes tight. I turn away. “Please go.”

  Ash says nothing for a long time. My mind spins. I can’t process. All I can do is feel. My heart has come loose and crash-landed into my spleen.

  Eventually, I hear Ash walk away. Chewbarka watches him leave and whines softly.

  I turn to go after Ash. To say I’m sorry, I just need a minute to compute, I’m not saying go away forever. Just for now, so I can figure out what I feel. What to do. How to be.

  But I still see Ashley, like Ashley the girl I assumed he was, when I look at his retreating back. And it feels like I’m losing the girl I knew.

  It hurts like fiery hell. I care about her. Him. Whichever.

  Ash the person. Not only Ash the girl. The person.

  Who’s leaving. Because I said to.

  I duck back into the tent with Chewbarka. I need to get this epic tear flood out of my system so I can bring Chewbarka home to Mom and plead my case without turning into a blubbering idiot. I want so badly to talk to Cole. To Dad. Even to Mom, minus the judgment. I just need to know someone’s in my corner, now that the very last person who I knew was on my side has just walked away because I told him to.

  I have got to start fixing my relationships.

  23

  The Gatorade Kid

  Ash

  I don’t know why I go looking for the Gatorade video when I get home. Maybe I want to convince myself it’s not that big a deal. That losing people you care about is part of life and I should get over it.

  But first I want to figure out how Bella found it. I open Insta since she probably searched Ash Haley on there. My profile is private but my screen name, Ash_BashCrashSmash, is still visible. The one friend we have in common is Griffey.

  I check his photos. The fourth one down is a shot he took of the two of us pretending to arm wrestle. The second comment on that photo is from Camille. It says Aaaah I miss Ash!!

  “Sure you do,” I mutter. I look at her profile, which is public. A few posts down is a screenshot she took of some nasty comments Tyler and Jackson left on one of her photos. She’s captioned the screenshot Theydies and gentlethems, I present to you my charming classmates who bullied my friend Ash right out of school, followed by three of the eye roll emoji. The first comment is from my former cross-country teammate Nate, the one I saw at the convenience store with Daniel. It says I miss Ash! @TylerDurdenWishes and @JacksonWithTheAction are the scum of the earth. Below that, Tyler and Jackson have, predictably, defended themselves by slinging a lot of profanity at Camille and Nate.

  I sigh. That didn’t take much sleuthing. Bella probably followed the same trail and found Tyler’s or Jackson’s profiles. Griff told me Camille deleted the Gatorade video later that night, but Tyler and Jackson had already downloaded it and reposted it, bragging about what they’d done.

  I never went looking. I wanted to forget the whole thing.

  I don’t want to risk seeing the video on Insta with a bunch of comments calling me a freak and saying I deserved what I got. I don’t need to fan the flames of my wrecked self-esteem after that mess with Daniel. Instead, I open Facebook and go to the Bailey Middle PTA page, where Mom said she saw it. I scroll through the last few weeks of posts, searching. Torn between hoping I’ll find it and hoping I won’t.

  My stomach dips when it shows up on my screen. It has 122 comments.

  I look at the framed cross-stitch on my wall that says When life shuts a door, open it. That’s how doors work.

  I take a deep breath and click play, bracing for the fear and humiliation to hit again.

  But it doesn’t.

  This time, when I watch Jackson jerk my head back and deadname me, when I see Tyler pour Gatorade up my nose, my heart fills with anger.

  Not anger. Rage.

  How could they do that to me? What is wrong with them? How screwed up do you have to be to attack someone like that? Someone who is literally zero threat whatsoever to you? And to do it three against one—

  I sink back in my desk chair, shaking. I open Insta to tell Camille, again, exactly how furious I am at her for posting it. How she w
recked my life and it’s her fault we had to move and how I thought we were friends.

  But then I pause. I go back to Facebook and look at the parents’ comments.

  So many are supportive. Angry on my behalf, on Mom’s behalf. Blasting the principal and superintendent, saying it was a cop-out for them to claim that since it happened off school grounds there was nothing they could do. Demanding changes at Bailey. There’s even a thread where parents decide they’ll set up a bullying hotline. Down at the bottom, one of the oldest comments posted is from Mom asking the poster to take it down, to respect my privacy. But then a bunch of people replied and said it should stay up as evidence. That nothing would change if people didn’t see what was really happening.

  I take a deep breath and open my Instagram messages. I read what I said to Camille the day it happened. Throwing all my anger at her instead of at those boys, ’cause she was a target I could reach. A target I knew I could hurt.

  Hey, I write. I’m sorry I said that stuff to you after you posted the video. I know you were trying to help.

  Omg, she writes back immediately. I’m so sorry I posted it. I never should have. I get why you were mad.

  No, it’s good you did. I hope it made stuff change.

  There’s a long pause, and then she says, It did and it didn’t. Like the teachers are all “If you see something say something” all the time. But Tyler and Jackson are still &%#*wads.

  I hope they’re not messing with you for trying to bust them, I write.

  Not me. They’re focused on a sixth grader. I keep trying to get him to own his gayness so the Scumbag Squad will stop harassing him, but he’s not out yet and they’re torturing him for it.

  Ugh. At least if I’d stayed, Tyler and Jackson and those boys would be picking on me instead of that poor kid. I know how he feels, I say. Someone here found out I’m the Gatorade video kid and she’s threatened to out me.

  Oh god now I feel worse, Camille writes. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think it would get so spread around. I just wanted those buttheads to get punished for what they did to you.