How to Speak Boy

by Tiana Smith

  Without divulging too much of my personal life, I also asked him advice on speech and debate topics. Our first tournament was coming up quickly and I still hadn’t settled on anything.

  What issues in the news today do you think are the most important?

  Internet privacy. Antidiscrimination laws. The human carbon footprint. Immigration. I could go on and on.

  Not only did we sometimes mention the assignments, but I often saw his grades whenever I left a note in his cubby, and his scores in AP Government were a testament to his knowledge of political topics. What was ironic was how much he claimed to hate politics.

  Of course, talking about those kinds of things had somehow led to us discussing deeper and more personal topics. In one letter, I learned he didn’t always get along with his parents, for one thing.

  Dear 15511,

  Did you get question three right on the last assignment? I didn’t. I think Ms. Navarrete is wrong, but my parents probably won’t let me explain my view. If I miss one answer on an assignment, they ask me what went wrong. More than one and I might as well have failed.

  It’s like they expect me to be a rocket scientist or president of the United States or something like that. They can’t seem to remember I’m just a teenager doing the best I can.

  Sorry, that got deep fast. Didn’t mean to lay that all on you, random stranger. All that to say, what’d you put for question three?

  15211

  I deflected his question about our assignments, because the truth was, I’d gotten a lot more than just question number three wrong. Parents, though, that was something I could talk about.

  I was lucky. Random spats aside, my mom and I got along. The night before I got that letter, we’d binged The Good Place and laughed so hard there was actual waterworks. Later, she’d shown me some of her latest photos from a wedding and we’d both about died when she’d photoshopped horns onto the bride. Still, we had our moments.

  For about a week after that note, I swapped parental horror stories with 15211, leaving my dad out of it since he wasn’t in the picture anymore.

  My mom didn’t like this Goth emo guy I used to date. So anytime he came over, she’d blast the Top 40 hits from her room just so he’d leave. Our walls would actually shake. And no, she doesn’t like pop music.

  Looking back, it actually was kind of funny. My mom had to have hated it almost as much as he had. Personally, I liked pop, so it was probably all for the best that it hadn’t worked out between me and Emo Guy.

  One time my mom locked me out because I missed curfew. I had to sleep on the porch swing. Luckily, it was the summer.

  His parents seemed a lot stricter than my mom. My mom did things in good fun, but his parents’ expectations were sky high. It was clear he respected them immensely and put a lot of stock in their opinions, which was great. But, the more I got to know him, the more I felt bad for him, and I was getting to know him more every day.

  It was strangely exhilarating writing a stranger a note. A physical, handwritten letter that wasn’t something that’d be forgotten on his phone the minute something better came along. The letters I collected seemed more solid than anything I’d read in a long time, which was maddening considering I didn’t even know who it was doing the writing. How could something so full of questions be so concrete at the same time?

  He seemed to feel the same way.

  Is it weird that I kind of like not knowing who you are? Sometimes it’s not knowing something that makes it all the more exciting.

  Soon, it wasn’t a question of if I’d write him back, but a matter of how quickly I could whip out my pen. Curiosity was nibbling at my stomach, making me anticipate AP Government for the first time ever, simply because I’d get to put a letter in someone’s cubby. Really, it was absurd, and I knew it.

  I didn’t even know his name, or anything that could actually identify him. All I had were pieces of a whole, things that made him who he was, but when looked at separately, could apply to anyone, really.

  On Monday night, Naomi and I tried to figure out who my mystery pen pal could be while I waited for my mom to come home from the diner. Music blasted from my computer and we talked loudly over it.

  “His parents are still together?” Naomi asked as we sprawled out on my bed. Ms. Navarrete’s class rosters and 15211’s letters were spread out around us like a sea of white foam. A paper cut waiting to happen. Ms. Navarrete had four classes of AP Government throughout the day, and each class had about fifteen guys, give or take. We’d sweet-talked the office aide into printing them out. Well, Naomi had sweet-talked. I’d stood there awkwardly and debated whether this could count as a felony or end up on my permanent record somehow.

  “Affirmative,” I said. “His parents are still married.” I searched through the names in third period.

  “There’s got to be at least sixty-five guys here.” Naomi put down the paper she was holding. “Remind me again why you can’t just ask him?”

  I had to turn down the music because my mom was going to be home any minute.

  “And spoil the fun?” I asked. My voice was light, but inwardly, I was tense, a coiled-up snake. Conflicted. Did I really want to know who this person was? Some things were better off unsaid, after all. I gathered the papers together just as my mom poked her head through my door.

  “Nice to see you’re so focused on homework,” she said. Naomi bounced her head enthusiastically. I sat there frozen, like a meerkat sensing approaching danger. My grades in AP Government hadn’t been stellar lately, and my mom had agreed on Naomi coming over as long as we used the time to study.

  Well, in my defense, we had been studying. But not schoolwork.

  “You girls want some dinner?”

  Naomi was off the bed and on the way to the kitchen before my mom was even done offering. Like me, she’d probably smelled the apple pie aroma that was wafting through my now-open door.

  “I got another photography booking this morning,” my mom said, waving her phone at me. “I’m doing newborn shots for a lady across town. She said she found me through Instagram, which you know I can never do without you.” She waggled her eyebrows and I smiled. Direct results. It was the best feeling in the world. “You know you’re my favorite kid, right?”

  I scoffed and said the same line I always did.

  “I’m your only kid.”

  “Still my favorite. Now let’s eat.”

  She left and I finished gathering the papers, separating them into two piles. One for 15211’s letters, and the other for the lists of potential names in Ms. Navarrete’s classes. I debated throwing the lists away. My hand hovered over my trash can, the papers touching the edge.

  Then I pulled back, placing the lists of names on my desk instead.

  Right now, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know who 15211 was. But something told me that might not always be the case.

  Chapter Six

  I had 15211 to thank for my first speech topic of the season.

  I’d talk about the psychological reasons behind why teenagers don’t always mesh with their parents and I’d use actual science to back me up. Oratory was all about persuading people to your viewpoint, and I was going to argue that more grown-ups should cut us slack, because hello, it was our hormones’ fault we behaved the way we did.

  Besides, parents often had completely unrealistic expectations of us. Adults thought we were too old for the mistakes we made, but they never let us have any real responsibility. We weren’t old enough for that. We were in this in-between world where everything was out to get us.

  Sure, maybe the topic wouldn’t make the judges love me right away because they’d be grown-ups themselves, but with enough facts, they’d be forced to see I was right. Those were the best topics—they were the ones that won. If you could get judges to agree to something they wouldn’t regularly admit, you were in.

  It didn’t mean I wasn’t friends with my mom. But she was still my mom, and of course, we had our moments. Usually, whenever
she thought I spent too long on Instagram. It didn’t even matter if I said I was doing it for her.

  I spent longer writing it than I usually did, but by the time I left speech practice on Tuesday, I was feeling pretty good about myself.

  Until I saw the sun setting on the horizon, a gorgeous watercolor painting that mocked my pain.

  “Oh no, oh no,” I muttered to myself as I pulled out my phone to check the time. The whole time I’d been working, it’d been on silent. Which meant I’d missed the reminder telling me to leave for the bus. I knew the bus schedule almost by heart, but I looked it up anyway and my stomach dropped. The last bus had already come and gone, over an hour ago. I was stuck.

  I should have been more aware of my surroundings. Most everyone had left practice already, except for our coach. And Grayson.

  I sucked in a shaky breath of cool September air and tried not to panic. The shadows were already lengthening from the trees, but I knew my mom wouldn’t be home until late tonight.

  Okay, so my mom couldn’t help me. What other options did I have?

  I could walk. But I was at least five miles away from our apartment, it was getting dark, and it wasn’t like I lived on the nice side of town. So that was a recipe for disaster.

  I could ask Grayson for a ride. But after the way I’d behaved at practice a couple of weeks ago, that wasn’t going to happen. Ever. Even the thought of it made my skin crawl with embarrassment. Sure, I’d talked to him about other things since he’d offered to drive me home from practices, but anything involving a car was strictly off-limits conversation-wise.

  My cheeks flushed and I chewed on my lower lip. I couldn’t let him see me out here either, standing around like some pathetic loser. What if he finished up whatever he was doing and saw me hanging around, like I was waiting for him? I’d die.

  Two large columns stood outside the entrance to the school, surrounded by tall bushes. I went around one of them, scratching my arms in the process as I ducked low and sat on the ground. But from this angle, I was hidden from the view of the front doors.

  I could text Naomi or Carter. Or both of them.

  Easy. That was something I could do. I felt weak with relief and slumped back against the column as I started a group text. Carter hadn’t left practice that long ago, but he almost always had work right after, which was why I didn’t usually ride with him. Chances weren’t good, but I had to ask.

  Can either of you give me a ride home from the school? I missed the bus.

  Carter’s response was almost immediate.

  Sorry, no can do. I’m working at the climbing gym right now. My shift is over in three hours though if you’re still stuck. Let me know.

  I sighed and put my phone in my pocket while I waited for Naomi to text back. The fact that she hadn’t already though wasn’t a good sign. I put my head in my hands while I waited. It was getting colder and my jacket was thin.

  I heard the school doors open and I froze. Grayson’s voice was unmistakable.

  “See you tomorrow,” he called back to someone. The doors closed behind him and I counted his footsteps without looking. Looking would mean moving, and that would rustle the bush I was hiding behind.

  Of course, that was when my phone dinged with another text.

  Grayson’s footsteps stopped. “Hello?” he called.

  I didn’t answer. Sweat dripped down my back as I slowly reached into my pocket to bring out my phone. The display seemed overly bright in the semidarkness and I fumbled with it. But another text came through before I could put my phone on silent.

  Grayson came around the pillar and stood right in front of me. At first he seemed hesitant, but when he recognized me, he smiled.

  I, on the other hand, wasn’t smiling. I just wanted the ground to eat me alive, was that too much to ask?

  “Well, well, look what we have here. Hiding, are we?” Grayson asked.

  My mouth opened up to form words, but none came out. I closed it and pursed my lips together. Another text came in and I glanced down to read it. All of them were from Naomi.

  I’m stuck babysitting my little brother right now. Or I’d totally come to your rescue.

  P.S. Carter, I think three hours is a bit long for Quinn to wait, but kudos for offering I guess?

  The third text was sent just to me, not on the group thread.

  The boy is trying too hard. I told you he likes you.

  Naomi couldn’t give me a ride either. The panic started setting in then. Because if neither of them could pick me up, that left me with … Grayson. Who was standing in front of me, hands in his pockets, a self-satisfied expression written all over his face.

  No. I refused. I would not beg him for a ride after everything that had happened a few weeks ago. I’d rather go back inside the school and camp out in the speech room until Carter or my mom got off work in a few hours. Hours with nothing to do, surrounded by empty hallways and reminders of my academic failures. Naomi might think it was too long to wait, but it was better than the alternative. My hands shook and I mimicked Grayson’s pose, standing up and putting them in my pockets to cover up my awkwardness.

  “I wasn’t hiding,” I said. “I was waiting.”

  “For what?”

  I didn’t have a good answer for that. If I said a ride, he’d ask me who was coming. And the answer was no one. I almost laughed. But I wasn’t sure I could keep it from turning into a cry, so I stayed silent.

  “Well”—Grayson nudged his glasses farther up on his nose and I didn’t meet his eyes—“I’m pretty sure there’s a bus stop around here.”

  “Really? I had no idea,” I managed to get out. The bush stood between us, and I played with one of the branches, still not meeting his gaze.

  “Ah, but the buses don’t run this late, do they?”

  He had me there. I finally looked at him, and I knew my secret was out. Understanding dawned on his face and I pushed my way out of the bush, walking past him and toward the main doors of the school. I had no words to say. Nothing that could make this moment less humiliating.

  “Quinn,” he called before I could make it to the doors. I turned around and tried to keep from tears. It was ridiculous, and I had no idea why I felt this way. But my ribs were squeezing together, and I wrapped my arms around my body.

  “I do have a car, you know,” he said. His voice was lightly teasing, like maybe he could tell how much this moment was killing me, so he didn’t go into full jerk mode. Either that or he was afraid I’d go off on him again, which was still a distinct possibility with how high-strung my emotions were right now. My chest hitched and I looked down at the ground. My hair hung in my face and I struggled to put what I was feeling into words.

  “It’s one of those things on four wheels that can take you places. All you have to say is please.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I know, I know. It’s hard for you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. I wouldn’t be able to keep up my indifference much longer. I needed him to leave before I broke down. “I’m perfectly able to hang out here until my mom can get me.”

  “Oh? Tell me again, when does she get off work?”

  I sighed but didn’t answer.

  He nodded slowly. “The custodian was already locking things up as I left. Ms. Bates went out the back. But, hey, I know you’re an overachiever, so if you like creeping around here after dark … more power to you I guess?”

  His words were a stone in my stomach. I could always wait outside, but it was dark and getting colder by the minute. Grayson rubbed his hands on his arms, as if sensing the same thing.

  “It’s only one little word,” he said, voice surprisingly soft.

  I considered my options. Embarrass myself with Grayson, which had already happened and couldn’t really get worse, or wait in the dark for hours until either Carter or my mom could come.

  I closed my eyes and let out a breath.

  “Okay,” I said, swallowing hard. “Please.”

  The word was bitter
and seemed to stick in my throat like peanut butter. But I’d said it, and there was no turning back now.

  * * *

  WE DIDN’T SAY anything as we clicked our seat belts. Like last time, the new car smell surrounded me, and I wondered how much Grayson’s parents had paid for it. He pushed the button, the car hummed to life, and we pulled out of the parking lot, all without a word. It would have been awkward, except I was over it now. It was pointless to feel embarrassed, because no matter what I did, it kept happening.

  “How’d it go with your group at practice today?” Grayson asked. At the beginning, we’d split the new Oratory members into two groups to go over basics, working from opposite sides of the room. “You need me to pick up your slack?”

  “Hardly,” I deadpanned. “I think I can handle a few first years.” I’d been teaching two freshman and Carter. But it’d been tricky not to show him favoritism when he kept using inside jokes and sidetracking the conversation. I’d had a much easier time focusing when we’d moved on to working on our individual projects. Plus, I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea about our friendship, if Naomi was right. Judging from the way she’d written the boy is trying too hard she still thought she was right. She thought his actions went above and beyond normal friendship. Maybe it’d be better for everyone involved if he worked with Grayson instead. If Grayson was offering.

  “But if you wanted to help Carter transition to Oratory,” I said, “I wouldn’t say no.”

  Grayson shot me a loaded look.

  “He’s your friend, isn’t he?”

  That was precisely the problem. But it wasn’t like I wanted to explain myself to Grayson.

  “Maybe he’s on my bad side,” I said, waving my hand noncommittally.

  “Tell him to join the club,” Grayson said with a chuckle.

  I slugged him on the shoulder and Grayson pretended to be hurt.

  “You sure Carter deserves to be on your list? I’m on your bad side simply for being good at what I do.”