“Lacey. I love you.” She takes a deep breath. “Your not telling me about Theo is total bullshit.”
I nod.
“You lied to me. Like, since when do we keep secrets from each other? I mean, I showed you when I got burned in that bullshit bikini wax.”
“You sure did,” I say, recalling that particular shock to the system.
“So, the point is, I don’t keep anything from you. Not even the most intimate, embarrassing stuff. I kind of thought it was a two-way street. I thought we had this link. Like I knew what you were thinking. Like how I knew you were worried your strapless dress was going to fall during your mom’s wedding. Or how you were always nervous in ninth-grade English because you thought our teacher was cute and there was sex in Romeo and Juliet and he kept talking about it. Or how that one car commercial gives you goosebumps. I mean, how can I know that you don’t like maraschino cherries—like a freak—and not realize you were in love with our best friend?”
I open my mouth to explain, and maybe she’s not ready to hear it because she shoves a coffee drink at me.
“This is for you. It’s apparently some sort of berry chocolate something-or-other. Utterly ridiculous.”
“Thanks.” I pause for a moment, gathering all the thoughts I loosely organized when I couldn’t sleep. “Evita. I can’t believe I didn’t tell you. I mean, I can, because obviously I didn’t tell you, but it’s an awful feeling.”
“Let me stop you right there. This can go one of two ways,” Evita says. “You can spew a bunch of things rehashing why you didn’t tell me and trying to make yourself feel better about the deception, or we can set that aside, and you can actually tell me what happened. And when you seem happy about something, I will endeavor to feel similarly on your behalf.”
“So … you want to hear about Theo and stuff?”
“It’s not that I want to hear about Theo. In fact, I don’t want to hear about Theo. But I want you to talk to me about it. I want to hear about you. I want to know all the things I wish I had known all along. If that makes sense.”
“Okay. Um. Sure.” I take a sip of my drink. “Holy shit. That’s like pure sugar.”
“Yes. Yes it is. To loosen your tongue.”
“Does that work?”
“You tell me.”
I take a deep breath. “So, he sort of just offered to kiss me. After I didn’t kiss Bruno. Like, I guess it kind of bugged him that you wanted me to kiss Bruno. So I guess maybe he liked me?”
“Lacey. Of course he likes you.”
“Please don’t say something about how he’d screw any girl who flirted with him,” I say bitterly. I’ve heard that before.
“No. I mean, duh, he likes you. Because he has always liked you. Not always in the kissing way. But, yeah, now that I see that about you guys, it does feel kind of obvious. You are both sort of amazing, so it makes sense.”
“Sure. Right.”
“I just don’t want to start this conversation off with you not giving yourself a little credit.”
“Well. Thanks. That means a lot.”
“Continue.”
“So, he wanted to kiss me. And I really wanted to kiss him. So we did.”
“Where?”
“My house. My bed. We’ve spent the night together a couple of times.”
“That’s what feels kind of sneaky about it, by the way.”
“What? Like you would have wanted an invitation to come over and watch us fool around?”
“No. Probably not. Sorry. We aren’t discussing the deception. Did you like the kissing?”
“Uh. Yeah. That’s why it kept happening.”
“I don’t know. I kissed Theo a lot. And I thought it was fun. But it never changed anything about what I wanted to do with him. Like, it was never, ‘Yeah, we’re kissing, you should put your hand in my shirt now.’”
“Oh. Okay. Well, losing clothes has happened. For sure. But I don’t totally want to go into that.”
“Fair enough. Continue.”
“I don’t know what else to tell you. I think maybe I was attracted to him for, like, a long time. But he was never available, so I just kind of felt jealous of you or Lily Ann and dealt with it. But suddenly it was this possibility, and he felt the same way about me, and I honestly felt like I couldn’t believe my luck.”
“Okay. So, you can understand how I’m feeling,” Evita says.
“You haven’t told me how you’re feeling.”
“Insanely, ridiculously, physically, viscerally jealous.”
“I guess that’s what I figured. And I don’t want you to feel that way.”
“Well, tough cookies. I can’t help feeling that way. But I also know I don’t want to be with him like that. Not in a physical way. I’m just not interested. And, at the time, it felt easier to kind of break up with him, or whatever. Like how do you say to someone who you’re with that you’d rather cuddle and maybe make out? How do you tell a guy you don’t like having sex with them and expect things to work out? I mean, what makes being asexual difficult in our society is that we’re all taught that sexual relationships are sort of the most important relationships. Like, totally negating all of the other things that might be important to the people in the relationship. And I just don’t see it that way.”
I shrug. Truth is, I’m obviously glad she and Theo didn’t work out, and that adds a layer of guilt to what I’m already feeling.
“So, short story: I’m asexual. Like, totally. Totally happy with that. I don’t feel like I’m missing out. I’m maybe curious about how other people experience things because it’s so different from how I do. But, obviously, Theo is allosexual. Like, there is this whole spectrum of sexuality from asexual to allosexual. I am on one end. He’s on the other. And his sexual attraction bothered me. And my asexuality bothered him, even though I hadn’t totally worked out the terms yet. We didn’t agree about how to be together. That’s about as incompatible as you can be, right?”
“He could be tone-deaf,” I say. “You’ve already made it clear that musical taste is sort of a factor in your romantic feelings.”
“Oh, right. I’m actually giving Paul another chance, by the way. I think he just needs a musical education. We might have been texting when I was upset yesterday.”
“That’s great!” I say.
“I know you’re probably hoping I’ll fall for Paul so you’re off the hook,” Evita says, looking at me with a raised eyebrow.
“Well … or I could also want you to be happy?” I say.
“Right. So, regardless of my possible crush on Paul. You and Theo? It’s probably going to be incredibly painful for a while. And I’m still pretty pissed. But, here’s the thing: believe it or not, I actually really want you and him to be happy. For real. You like kissing him. He likes kissing you. You probably find each other attractive in a way that makes literally no sense to me. But if it makes you happy, I’ll try to understand and be supportive and all that. The bit that makes me murderous is that you wouldn’t tell me something so important. Like, now I feel like a moron for not seeing it, because seeing you talk about it now, it’s like you have this little extra something to your smile. I mostly feel stupid. I hate feeling stupid. And I’m jealous that the two of you have something that I will never have with either of you. And society is just so fucking amatonormative. You know? Like, we’re told that what you and Theo have—romantically and sexually—is more important than what I could have with either of you.”
“I mean, you and I, and you and him, we’ll all have other things with each other.”
“Are you inviting me to be your celibate sister-wife? Because that is something I could squarely get behind.”
I laugh. “I don’t know about that. But you and Theo were always like my prime example of how best friends should be. I don’t think I’ll ever be as close to him as you are. In a way.”
“Now you have all these things that are just between the two of you. And it sucks.”
“I can
understand that.”
“So stop keeping things from me. Being on the outside is the worst thing in the world, at least when it comes to you.”
“Got it.”
“I want every detail.”
“Sure.”
“Like … well … did you guys…”—she leans in—“have actual sex?”
“Evita, what does actual sex mean?” I ask, lowering my voice. Charlie is a sound sleeper so long as Dylan’s also asleep, but I’m not cool with him being privy to this conversation.
“Duh.”
“We’ve done enough things that, yes, probably. But I haven’t, you know…”
“No home run, but you’re definitely on third.”
“I’m really not sure why you’d want to hear this.”
“I told you! I don’t want to be on the outside. I mean, I told you everything we did.”
“I wish you hadn’t sometimes, though.”
“Okay. But aren’t friends supposed to discuss this? Like Sex and the City or whatever.”
“I don’t like just doing what people are ‘supposed’ to do.”
“Fair enough. But if I’ve learned anything from you and our locker project, it’s that we shouldn’t shy away from talking about all things sex just because we’ve been told to be ashamed of it all our lives.”
“True, but I also think it’s personal and we should only share what we want.”
“Fine. Okay. But I’m telling you now: I’d rather you keep me in the loop than worry about hurting my feelings, okay?”
“I’m honestly so surprised that you’re kind of okay with us.”
“Lacey. I want you to be happy. I also want to live in Boston and have a band and be your sister-wife, but I think you know that.”
“Yeah. And I will keep you in the loop about that also.”
“Any thoughts on college?”
“I’m on the fence. More on the fence than I even realized. And I hate being on the fence, but I will tell you as soon as I start to wobble one way or the other.”
“And I will try not to be a strong breeze knocking you off that fence, but it’s hard for me.”
“I know.”
“I love you. And Theo. And I am not going to dwell on the deception more than necessary, but that sucked yesterday, Lacey.”
“I know.”
“So, what are we doing with the rest of the day?”
“There is a certain boy who would probably really like to know that you don’t hate him.”
“Ah. That boy. Yes. Call your boyfriend and tell him to get his tight-pantsed butt over here.”
“I am so not used to that word,” I tell her, taking another sip of my cup full of chocolate syrup.
“Boyfriend. He’s your boyfriend.”
“Shut up. I know.”
“And sometimes, your boyfriend is sort of an asshole,” she says.
“You do not pull your punches,” I tell her.
“I do sometimes, actually.”
“Yeah. Thanks for that.”
I sigh. The weight of that secret was heavier than I realized. I glance over at Evita. Her hair is wild and teased up in the messiest, biggest bun ever. She’s wearing a jacket so large she can draw her legs up into it.
“You’re kind of the best,” I tell her.
“I know.” She pauses. “Oh! I forgot to tell you, maybe I shouldn’t ask you to keep secrets from your boyfriend, but you’ll still keep the whole ‘me loving him’ thing from him? Like, I’m not pro-secret generally, as you well know, but I gotta play that one close to the chest.”
“Got it. I would never.”
“And, look, I might be a little miserable about all of this, but can we not make a big thing of it? I want to be cool. I will be cool. It just might take me a hot second.”
“Absolutely.”
“You’re pretty great, too, you know.”
Thirty
Even with everything out in the open, Theo and I still aren’t sure how to act in front of Evita and Alice. We’re taking a break from playing music to make school board plans. Evita proudly shows off the Instagram posts I found. And we’ve received dozens of messages of support on Tumblr.
“If even half these people show up to a school board meeting, it will be great. I mean, I’ve never been to a school board meeting, and I don’t know anyone else who has,” Evita says.
Theo and I are careful to sit on either side of Evita, not wanting to look too cozy together. But we keep stealing glances at each other, and we’re always smiling.
“I think we should set up an email account and ask people to email us if they want to join our presentation. Or we can keep anything they want us to read anonymous,” I suggest.
“You might want to do an online petition as well. Show how many students would welcome the change. Adults like numbers, right?” Alice says.
“When is the next school board meeting, anyway?” Theo asks.
“It’s soon. A week from Wednesday,” I say.
“Okay, well, that interferes a little bit with the amount of rehearsal we need before our gig next Friday, but I’ll allow it,” Evita says.
“Oh, well, only if you’ll allow it.” Theo laughs.
“I’m serious. We need to rehearse. A lot. And I don’t want to show up to this school board meeting looking anything but super prepared,” Evita says.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “I’ve got this. The three of us will talk. And, Alice?”
“You want me to talk?” Alice asks.
“Only if you want to. You do sort of have a unique viewpoint on all this,” I say.
“Because the system failed me?” Alice says.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say. “It’s just that you said yourself that—”
She smiles. “I’m teasing. Of course I’ll share my experiences.”
“Bonus points if you can bring it around to how girls often lose the most with abstinence-only education,” I tell her. “I’ll dig up some statistics for you on that.”
“Post the info on Tumblr, and then we need to rehearse,” Evita says.
* * *
Our suspension plus the weekend is spent at Evita’s house either preparing for the school board meeting or rehearsing. By the time Monday rolls around, we have perfected our set list and also recruited a dozen other students to speak at the school board meeting.
When I walk into school, I am floored by all the smiles I get. I even get a high five from some kid I don’t know.
“Someone is finally getting the attention she deserves,” Theo says when we drop our stuff in Evita’s locker before our music classes.
“I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it,” I say.
“Oh, come on, you like the spotlight, admit it,” Evita says. “Next you’ll be begging me to let you front the band.”
“That will never happen,” I tell her.
Evita looks between me and Theo. “Yeah. I’m gonna get to choir a little early this morning,” she says as she turns on her heel and walks down the hall.
It’s nice of her. Theo and I haven’t had a single second with just the two of us since the day we got suspended.
“Hi,” I say, suddenly feeling shy.
“Hey yourself,” Theo says, brushing a hair off my face in the way he always does these days. “Now that we’re quasi-alone in this crowded hall, I have a big question for you.” He turns to look at me. “Would you maybe want to have an official date?”
“Do we need an official date? I thought dates were so you could get to know someone.”
“Hear me out. I know it’s November.”
“Yes…”
“It’s November, and it’ll probably be cold, but maybe we could try camping?”
“Camping?” We live near so many campgrounds, and my mom and I would occasionally go when I was younger, but only in the summer, when the days were hot and the nights were perfectly cool.
“I know. It’s okay if you don’t want to. It’s just … we neve
r get to be actually alone. My dad has awesome gear. Plenty of warm sleeping bags. And if we hate it, we can just leave, you know? But I might actually surprise you with my campfire-building skills.”
“Do your skills involve lighter fluid?”
“No. Come on. Give me some credit. Building fires and camping are, like, the only manly things I do.”
“Cello is manly.”
“Ha. Yeah. Okay. Seriously, though, let’s go camping.”
“When?”
“Thursday.”
“A school night? The night before a gig? Are you crazy?”
“Probably. But I thought we could just skip school on Friday. More time to rehearse anyway.”
“Skip school? Have you met me?”
“Well, now that you’ve been suspended … I bet your mom would call you out,” he says. He looks a little crestfallen that I’m not jumping at the chance.
“I don’t think my mom will call me out of school to have sex.”
“Oh. No. This isn’t some kind of tactic to get you to have sex with me,” Theo says, horrified.
“No. I know. But, seriously, my mom is cool, but I’m not sure she’s that cool.”
“Well, think about it,” he says.
It is a totally nuts idea. But I want to. “I’ll work it out. I would love to go camping with you in the mountains in November.”
Maybe love does make you do crazy things. The moment I have the thought, it just feels right to say it. “I love you,” I say.
“I really love you,” he says, without even thinking about it. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face even if I tried.
* * *
At lunch Evita gives us her blessing for our date. It probably helps that we had an amazing rehearsal yesterday. “I think you guys are crazy, but the band will not suffer if we don’t rehearse after school Thursday as long as we rehearse all day Friday. But, Theo, darling, go get me a pretzel or something in the lunch line, I need a word with Lacey.”
Theo rolls his eyes. “You just expect everyone to do everything you say, don’t you?”
“Basically.” She shoos him away. She turns to me once he’s out of earshot. “This is, like, it, right?”
“What do you mean?” I ask. I know what she means.
The Birds, the Bees, and You and Me Page 20
