by Justin Sayre
“Yes,” I answer. That’s how much I like this boy. I am willing to put up with Allegra and a boy who she likes, which makes her the worst Allegra she can possibly be, just to be around Noah, because he smells like angels and he texted me:
hey
“Well, I guess it’s worth it then,” Ducks says, just looking at his fries for a minute.
I don’t know why I say this, but I do. “Why didn’t you want to go to the movies with Charlie?”
Ducks doesn’t look up from his tray and says, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to like Charlie, Ducks, that’s not my deal, you know that, right?”
Ducks nods his head that he knows.
“But if you do . . .”
“Can we go back to talking about Noah?” he pleads.
“No,” I spit back, only because I think if I keep talking about Noah, I may actually turn bright red. I keep asking him to admit his thing so I don’t have to admit mine anymore and get myself into trouble.
“I just don’t want people to think of me as the, like, gay kid,” Ducks says.
“Like they were going to think of you as the husky kid?” I ask him. I think in his mind he’s already yelling at me for being mean, but before the yell makes it down to his lips, I say, “Listen, you’re never one thing, okay? I know it’s easy to think that because my stupid cousin told me something about high school, but just because she says it doesn’t make it true. She thinks cats don’t have souls.”
“Do they?” Ducks asks.
“I don’t know. Who cares? You have to stop thinking about what other people think of you because they don’t know you, and if all they can handle is one word when they want to know who you are, like, who you actually are, then they don’t deserve to.”
“What about Nanny?” Ducks asks, almost afraid I’m going to yell at her too.
“She’ll get over it, and if she doesn’t, that’ll be her mistake.”
Ducks concentrates on drinking his chocolate milk, and I think he’s trying not to cry. I don’t want him to cry, it’s not about that. It’s not a mean thing, I’m not being mean for saying it, it’s just the truth. And the truth is never mean, it’s only mean when you don’t get it.
Neither of us expected to get into something so deep at lunch, but we did and we’re both okay for it. I tell him to call Charlie after school. He says he’ll text him.
As we’re walking out of the building after school, Sophie comes running up to me with three printouts from her home computer. They’re all of dresses and the second one is pretty, but none are right.
“Ugh, you’re so lucky I love you,” Sophie says and groans.
She sees how white Ducks looks holding his phone in his hand. He’s about to text Charlie, and he’s nervous. She says she’ll walk home with us.
I do know how lucky I am that Sophie loves me. And that Ducks does too. And that I love them back. I remember that the whole walk home. A walk that I love too. It’s the first time in a long time that the three of us have walked home together like we used to. It’s not that we haven’t wanted to, we just haven’t in a while. I’ve had Hebrew school, and Sophie’s had her mom, and Ducks has been a little solitary over the last few weeks and then, I don’t know, things have come up. I’m glad for this. I think we all are.
We end up talking about everything. I talk about my bat mitzvah and the theme and my Bubbe Brunch and Noah. Sophie talks about her mom and about staying nights with her auntie in Harlem. Ducks talks about his grandmother and his mom’s boyfriend who he still doesn’t like, but he thinks they’re getting serious, so he’s got to at least start to try. He doesn’t mention Charlie, so neither do I. By the numbered streets, we’re all laughing like we used to do and everything seems like we can handle it. It’s not that the big stuff got smaller, it’s just that there are more of us, and that makes us each feel like we’re not on our own. That makes us all feel a lot better, and then sooner than any of us would like, we’re at 7th Street. Sophie and Ducks turn left, and I turn right. It’s nice to be reminded every once in a while that you don’t have to do any of it on your own.
At home, Dad is on the phone with a barbecue place ordering dinner before he runs back out to perform a surgery tonight. Mom’s working late too, but she should be home before him and Rosalinda will be with me and Hannah before then. “Is that okay?” he asks as he heads out the door, and I realize that he wasn’t really asking me, he was just checking to make sure I thought it was. I let him go thinking it is.
Rosalinda makes us eat at the table, even though we all would rather watch TV, and shortly after, Hannah goes to bed. It’s almost time for me to go to bed when Mom gets home. Mom looks tired but she’s also starving, so she heats up a little of the leftover barbecue and sits at the table.
“Do you want to sit with me? I haven’t really had a chance to talk to you much since I’ve been back,” she says, putting out a plate and silverware for herself. She doesn’t set a plate for me, but I know she’ll let me eat off her plate if I want anything. Maybe she doesn’t want to be alone either.
She asks me about school and about the Hebrew. Am I learning it? How’s it coming? And about the dress.
“Pick something you like. You should like it at the very least.” She laughs, scooping macaroni and cheese into her mouth and trying not to laugh it back out again. She tells me about her bat mitzvah dress and Aunt Debbie’s and even Aunt Claire’s. “Hers was at least pretty. Mine was terrible!”
We’re both laughing so hard we’ve forgotten how late it is.
“I know it’s just a dress, but it is a special day. And that’s the real point. We want you to feel special.”
I tell her I’d love jeans and a Beckham jersey.
“Half the reason I became a surgeon is I like the scrubs. But you’re so pretty, Elles, you should wear something beautiful.”
She touches a curl near my face and asks if I want any of the ribs, but it’s late and I’m not hungry. We walk up the stairs together, and she leaves me at my doorway.
“I’m really proud of you, Elles. I know it’s going to be a great day and I really can’t wait.” She kisses me twice on the forehead and walks to her room. “And I know Dad can’t either.”
“Are you guys okay?” I ask, out of totally nowhere, but also because I want to know. I would like to feel sure about something tonight.
“Us?” she says, turning around in her doorway. “Of course, he’s still my main squeeze.” We both hear the sound of the front door opening downstairs and Mom yells down, “Hey, Dan, hon, is that you?”
Dad mumbles that it is him, and Mom goes down to talk to him.
I crawl into bed and wait for Hannah. She should be in any minute.
Chapter 16
By the time I get to my locker at the end of the day there are about twenty-five texts from my aunt, all of them anxious and most of them containing more caps than seems fair. She has to know I’m in school, and I can’t just be texting her all day, though it seems that’s exactly what she wants. Ducks is waiting for me by my locker, waiting to walk home, as I start to scroll through them.
“Are you in trouble or something?” Ducks asks, peering over my shoulder.
“Probably.” I smirk. Let’s see how many more texts I get by the time I’m home. I know Aunt Debbie means well, and I know she’s totally taking so much of this on herself, but she can also relax. Everybody else seems pretty chill. Dad writes checks for whatever she asks, and I approve things like napkins and party favors. But maybe we’re chill because she’s not.
Everybody at the party is getting a little goody bag with chocolate swords and elf ears, which she thinks is sooooo cute. I am happy with all her choices, even though we’re still arguing over the tots. She doesn’t feel like they’re fancy enough for this affair. That’s my party now, it’s an “affair.”
I know I should be m
ore excited about it all, but it seems like such a big deal for something that’s a lot less flashy. I don’t want to think about all those things, because they don’t seem like the serious part. I want to think about what it’s really about. I want to think about what it means. I’m trying to think about what it means to say these words in a different language in front of my family and to show that I understand them and become a woman. That’s the part I’m worried about. All the napkins and party favors and DJs with elf ears won’t help me with that.
Ducks has been a little quiet since he came back to school. Not the quiet where you know he wants to talk about something but can’t, but very still. I haven’t asked about the texts with Charlie. I figured he would have told me by now, and the fact that he hasn’t lets me know to at least wait a minute to see if he does. It’s strange to see him like this, like he’s been hollowed out or something. He looks like there’s nothing going on in his head, and I know him; there’s always something going on in his head.
He doesn’t look sad or mopey. He’s smiling and talking to me about homework, which I guess means he’s at least paying attention, but he’s not worrying or freaking out about any of it. That might sound normal for anyone else, but to me, or to anyone else who knows Ducks, you know there’s something seriously wrong.
“What do I have to wear to your bat mitzvah? A tie?” Ducks asks.
“Sure, if you want. I mean, you have to dress up like if you were going to church or a fancy dinner,” I answer. “Do you have a jacket?”
“Yeah. It’s old though,” Ducks says. “I wore it to Jock’s funeral. Is that okay?”
I stop in the hallway and look right at Ducks, wondering what the hell, seriously, what the hell is going on with him? He just mentioned his grandfather’s funeral, which was, like, five or six years ago now, but he still never mentions it without getting all sad about it, and now it’s just a matter-of-fact thing? “What’s your deal?”
“What?” Ducks looks at me all confused, but not upset, which only makes me want to shake him more.
“What’s your deal? You’re not freaking out. You’re not worrying. And then you’re all like, ‘Oh I just wore this to Jock’s funeral.’” I’m practically yelling at him in the hallway, which is a little embarrassing, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“I was just asking about a jacket, Ellen,” he replies and just stands there, like I threw a slushy in his face and he’s still stunned from it, but he’s not doing anything.
“Did aliens take over your body? Are you being controlled by a supervillain? Why have you turned into a zombie, Ducks?”
“I just asked about a jacket. How does that make me a zombie?”
“It’s not the question, it’s the everything else. Or the nothing else,” I scream at him. And then I’m freaking out the way he usually does, and I’m stomping off, like Ducks usually does, because if he’s not going to have a full-on meltdown about something simple that means a whole lot more when you actually look at it, then I guess I’m going to have to have it for him.
I’m almost halfway down the block before I realize he’s not following me. I run back to where he was to yell at him some more, but by the time I get back to the hallway, he’s gone. I see Sophie outside the boys’ bathroom, and I’m guessing that’s where Ducks went.
“Is he in there?” I ask her, and without waiting for an answer I tell her to watch the door and run into the boys’ bathroom. It’s gross, and it smells like every single boy in school spends most of the day just peeing on the radiator, so not only does it stink, but it’s a hot stink. I cover my nose.
“Ducks?” I call loudly into the bathroom, and only hear him move around in one of the stalls.
“What are you doing in here? You’re not allowed in here!”
Well, at least that got him to freak out. “I’m sorry I yelled. I’m just stressed or whatever because of this whole bat mitzvah thing. I mean, you saw the texts from my aunt.”
“You shouldn’t be in here. You could get in, like, serious trouble.” The way he says “trouble” with a little quiver in his voice lets me know that he’s crying, and that makes me feel awful, but in the weirdest way almost happy, because it means something is going on, and he’s not just a used-up Go-Gurt of a person like he was in the hallway.
“What kind of trouble, do you think? Like suspension? For what? Trying to pee standing up?” I smirk. I wait to listen to see if he laughs, but he just blows his nose. Just then Sophie comes into the bathroom.
“What’s going on? Why are we all in here?” Sophie asks, immediately covering her nose too. I laugh at her, and that makes Ducks even more nervous in the stall.
“What is everybody doing in here?” Ducks is freaking out from inside the stall.
“Well, I was watching the door—” Sophie starts, but Ducks cuts her off.
“So, nobody’s watching the door now? What if somebody comes in here? What if you get caught?”
Sophie and I look at each other, but neither of us really knows what to say. We both think it’s kind of funny. I mean, it’s just a bathroom. I use the same one that my dad does at home, so why is it so awful to share it with other people now, and why would anyone freak out that we’re in here now? I mean, if it weren’t for the smell and the urinals, which seem like the grossest thing ever, I mean, seriously, why not just pee right on the floor, which, judging from the smell, I wouldn’t put past most of the gross boys at this school, this would be a pretty all-right place.
“I guess we’ll all get expelled,” I say.
Sophie doesn’t want to laugh, but she can’t help herself.
“It’s not funny, Ellen!” Ducks yells from the stall. “It’s not a joke. You shouldn’t be in here. And I don’t know why you are! Are you trying to get in trouble? Or just make everything worse for me? Why are you always so mean to me?” Ducks’s voice starts to break halfway through yelling at me, and that stops both me and Sophie dead in our tracks. This isn’t a freak-out anymore, this is one of those really serious moments, when Ducks is really upset and something is terribly and honestly wrong.
“Ellen’s not being mean, Ducks,” Sophie pipes up, and walks over to Ducks’s stall.
“She is. She’s yelling at me, and just pushing me, when I was just asking her a stupid question about her bat mitzvah, which she’s not even excited about. I mean, she’s asking me what’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with her? Her whole family is throwing this huge party for her, and she acts likes it’s a pain for her to show up.”
“That’s not it at all. How would you know?” I yell back, getting angrier than I really want to, but he’s not being fair.
“What’s wrong, Ducks? It’s just us here,” Sophie says, almost petting the stall door, like she’s trying to calm it and the person inside.
“Why does something have to be wrong with me? Why does something always have to be wrong with me?” Ducks says, at that break in his voice that’s letting us know just how upset he is in there. Then he just fully falls apart and it’s a long time before he can catch his breath to talk to us again.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Ducks,” I say a few times while he sniffles and tries to pull himself together. “I’m nervous about the whole thing, and I don’t know how to handle it.”
“She can’t even pick a dress.” Sophie smiles at me.
“And I’m trying to be chill about it, because I don’t know what else to do,” I say out loud for the first time and sort of get that it’s true. “I’m becoming a woman, and I don’t know what that means, but I want it to mean something. I want it to mean something more than a party. I want it to mean something real, and it won’t if you’re not there.”
“I’m coming.” Ducks sniffles from inside the stall. “Why wouldn’t I come?”
“I don’t know. I’m just saying,” I answer. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I just don’t know what�
��s going on with you lately, and I want to. We both do.” Sophie agrees and pets the door again. Ducks starts to breathe a little more evenly in the stall and we can tell he’s calming down.
“Does this have anything to do with Charlie?” I ask. I want to punch myself in the mouth as soon as I say it, but I figure we’re already in here and we’ve been through a lot of tears and stuff, so why not finish it off.
“Yes,” Ducks says, so low that if he weren’t the only thing we were listening to, we would have totally missed it.
“It’s okay, Ducks,” Sophie says. “Whatever it is. It’s okay.”
“Seriously. You’re, like, our favorite person, stupid. We’re in this gross bathroom after school just to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” Ducks says from inside the stall. I tell him it doesn’t sound like it, and Sophie tries to shush me, but we both know that we need to push him a little or we’ll be stuck in this gross bathroom all night, and, seriously, no one is watching the door. Ducks starts to tell us that he said he was sorry to Charlie, but it’s not enough, and he doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t know what else to say to make this whole thing better. He likes Charlie and he doesn’t want to lose him as a friend. I try to tell him he won’t. Charlie’s just upset, because he liked Ducks in a boyfriend way, and Ducks didn’t like him back like that and that hurts people’s feelings, but not forever.
“But I do like him like that,” Ducks says. We all breathe a sigh of relief after that. Sophie says that’s great and so do I. I mean, it is. I want them both to be happy, and if they’re happy together, then that’s amazing. Also, Ducks is coming out to us, so I’m trying to be really supportive at the moment.
“Is that what has you this upset, Ducks?” Sophie asks.
“It’s not really. I sort of knew it wouldn’t be a big deal to say to you.”
“Have you actually said it to him? You might actually have to say it.” I laugh.
“I’m gay,” Ducks says and laughs a little. “It’s just everyone else. It’s my family. Not my mom, but Nanny’s gonna probably freak. And it’s teachers. And even Allegra. I mean, I hate that she was right, and that almost made me not want to tell anyone ever, but I don’t want to stick out any more than I already do.”
