The Other Boy

by M. G. Hennessey

  That did it. I curled up and threw the ball as hard as I could.

  Nico jolted back as the ball came within inches of hitting his head. The umpire reached out an arm to steady him and yelled, “Ball two!”

  Nico shook his head, as if this was exactly what he’d been expecting. He raised the bat again.

  I was breathing hard in and out of my nose, like a bull. I glared at Nico. He jutted his chin up, as if challenging me: What’re you going to do?

  My mouth twisted in a grimace. I wound up and threw the exact same pitch.

  A loud gasp rose from the stands. Nico dove out of the way as the ball whipped past. It crashed into the fence behind home plate, jamming in the mesh.

  “What the hell!” Nico shouted, brushing himself off.

  Cole had straightened and pulled off his mask again. He signaled, asking if he should come back to the mound. I shook my head.

  A few people were calling for the ump to kick me out of the game; they sounded really angry. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Mom and Dad wearing identical worried expressions. Summer’s face was chalk white.

  Coach Tom came trotting up, even though I tried to wave him off.

  “What’s going on, Shane?” he demanded.

  “Nothing,” I insisted. “I’m fine, I swear.”

  “Do I need to put in Dylan?”

  “No, don’t!” I said forcefully.

  He examined me. “You nearly took that kid’s head clean off. I’ve never seen you throw like that.”

  “Just . . . please, sir,” I begged. “I can do this.”

  He looked uncertain. I held my breath. “Okay,” Coach finally said. “But watch yourself. One more like that and I pull you.”

  He lumbered back to the dugout. I bent over, shifting the ball in my hand. It felt cool and smooth, reassuring.

  Cole, the umpire, and Nico had taken their positions back behind home plate. Nico wasn’t shaking his hips now. He looked scared.

  Which was perfect. That’s exactly what I wanted.

  I wound up again, the same way I had the past two times. The whole stadium inhaled sharply, braced for the ball to hit him.

  As the ball left my hands, everything slowed down. Nico’s eyes widened as it barreled toward him. The umpire took a cautionary step back.

  At the last possible moment, the ball veered and smacked into Cole’s glove. Nico hadn’t even swung: rattled, he’d stepped out of the batter’s box.

  And I’d thrown the perfect curveball.

  “Strike three!” the umpire shouted, jabbing a finger in the air, and the whole place exploded.

  Josh reached me first. He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me off the ground, yelling and screaming. The rest of the team was right behind him, and they really did hoist me up. The crowd swept down from the stands and swarmed the field, all cheering and calling my name.

  I bobbed on their shoulders as we did a victory lap around the field. In the stands, Mom and Dad and Summer were jumping up and down and clapping. I’d never imagined feeling so good about anything; it was like my heart had outgrown my chest, and I raised both hands in the air and tilted my head back and just let it all wash over me. It felt like winning. It felt like flying. It felt like the whole world was chanting my name.

  TWENTY-SIX

  “Dude, was that your plan all along?” Josh asked later, after the bus had dropped us back at the school parking lot.

  “Pretty much,” I said, rubbing my belly. The coach had taken us out for pizza, and the celebration continued at the restaurant and during the ride back to school. All around us, people were high-fiving and chattering excitedly about the game. Most of the guys slapped me on the back before breaking off toward their parents’ waiting cars. Cole was right; they probably wouldn’t have done that if we hadn’t won.

  “Man.” Josh shook his head. “For a minute there, I really thought you’d lost it.”

  “That was kind of the point,” I said.

  Josh chuckled. “I seriously thought Nico was going to cry.”

  I smiled. “It was pretty awesome.”

  “Right?” Josh held up his fist, and I bumped it. “Hey, want to come over tomorrow? I’ve got the new Skylander.”

  “Can’t. Dad’s taking me to the Dodgers game, if you want to come.”

  “Awesome!” Josh exclaimed. “I love watching the Dodgers lose. See you tomorrow!”

  “See you,” I agreed.

  “Rad plan!” he called back over his shoulder. “Team Shosh!”

  I pumped my fist and answered, “Team Shosh!” then slowly made my way over to Mom’s car. I didn’t really want this day to end, and it felt like once I climbed into the passenger seat, it would. I wished there was a way to bottle up the moment so that when things got rough again, I could take a sip and remember this feeling.

  “Do I get a hug from the MVP?” Mom asked, opening her arms wide.

  “Mom,” I grumbled. “Here? It’s so embarrassing.”

  She grinned at me. “How about a fist bump, then?”

  Obligingly, I bumped my fist against hers. The parking lot was almost cleared out. It was late afternoon. The sun was descending over the baseball field, throwing long shadows across the grass like phantom players.

  “Not ready to leave yet?” Mom asked.

  “Not quite,” I answered. We leaned against the car.

  “So how do you feel?”

  I was feeling a lot of things, actually. Stoked about winning the game. Relieved that Josh was still my friend. Happy that Dad had seen me play.

  And beneath that, still afraid of what school would be like on Monday.

  “So?” Mom prodded.

  “Hopeful,” I finally said. “More than anything, that’s what I feel.”

  EPILOGUE

  “C’mon, guapo. Dance with me.” Alejandra dragged me out of my chair.

  “No way. I can’t dance.” I tugged at the collar of my tuxedo; it was the most uncomfortable thing I’d ever worn in my life. Alejandra said it made me look great, though, like a young James Bond. Which wasn’t entirely true, but I had grown a few inches since last year and was a lot more muscular: big changes, just like she’d promised.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll lead.”

  Reluctantly, I let her drag me to the dance floor. It was a beautiful night in early June. Wood panels were laid over a grassy lawn in the middle of a vineyard; regimented rows of grapevines stretched off into the distance. The band was playing a salsa song. Most of the other guests were already dancing; old people, parents and their kids. Alejandra took both of my hands when we reached the center of the dance floor. She winked, then basically started dancing around me while I awkwardly shuffled my feet.

  “See? I’m terrible!” I shouted to be heard over the trumpets.

  “Not great,” Alejandra admitted. “But don’t worry, I look amazing. No one is watching you.”

  I laughed; it was true, she did look pretty incredible. Alejandra was wearing a sparkly red dress and high heels; with the makeup, she looked a lot older.

  “Thanks for coming,” I said again.

  “Are you kidding? I love weddings!”

  Dad and Summer were dancing a few feet away; he caught my eye and gave me a thumbs-up. Summer looked beautiful, too, even though I’d never tell Mom that. Dad had loosened his tie and opened the top button on his tux, his hair was more tousled than usual, and he couldn’t stop grinning. They both seemed really happy, which made me happy for them.

  I’d been their best man. That meant I got to stand next to Dad during the ceremony, which was cool; but I also had to make a toast, which was terrifying. While everyone stared expectantly at me, I shuffled through the index cards I’d written my speech on, frantically trying to find the first one; somehow they’d gotten out of order.

  Giving up on my carefully prepared toast, I finally said, “I’m really happy for my dad, and for Summer. I don’t have a lot of experience with love yet”—people laughed when I said
that, although I’m not sure why—“but I know that it’s supposed to make you more. They say that one plus one equals two, but if you’re really in love, I think it adds up to three, or maybe even four. I think the most important thing is to find someone who loves you for who you really are, to find someone who can see all those things inside you that maybe you were afraid to show people. And, um, I’m really happy my dad found that with Summer. That’s all I’ve got to say.”

  I sat down abruptly, convinced I’d totally blown it. But Dad gave me a big hug, and both he and Summer were teary, so I guess it went okay.

  I was a little bummed that Mom wasn’t there, but she and Chris had gone camping in Joshua Tree, so they were probably having fun, too. She’d even bought my dad and Summer a present, which was really nice of her.

  The song ended, and a slower one began. Alejandra immediately shifted gears, putting her hands on my shoulders.

  “Ugh,” I said. “Can’t we take a break?”

  “No way, dude,” she teased, mimicking me.

  Someone tapped my shoulder. “Um, can I cut in?”

  Josh looked just as uncomfortable in his tux as I felt. His face was bright red. The three of us had hung out a lot this past year, and I hadn’t missed the way he lit up whenever she was around. “Sure,” I said, stepping back. “I need a break anyway.”

  “Weak man.” Alejandra rolled her eyes before wrapping her arms around Josh and twirling him away.

  I watched them sway to the music. Alejandra laughed at something Josh said, throwing her head back. His neck got even redder.

  I smiled to myself and went back to the table. It was funny how things worked out. My life was basically exactly the same, but totally different, too, if that made sense. Josh was still my best friend, but we didn’t keep secrets from each other anymore. We were heading to baseball camp this summer for a full month; there were even going to be real pros there, including a couple of my favorite Giants players. And then I was going to the camp for transgender kids that Summer had found. Her cousin Jordan would be there, too. Who knew, maybe we’d even become friends.

  Alejandra was helping out Mom after school, answering the phones at her practice a couple of days a week. She liked Hollywood High. There had been a few jerks, but she had a lot of friends, and she said it was better than being yelled at by nuns every day.

  School was almost back to normal for me, too. Nico was gone, sent away to some sort of military academy. Josh and I went to some Gay-Straight Alliance meetings, and they turned out to be pretty cool. There were still a few bullies, including Dylan, but most of the kids were okay. And like Mom says, everyone has to figure out how to deal with jerks.

  Madeline started talking to me again last fall. It was still kind of awkward, and to be honest, I didn’t really have feelings for her anymore. But in homeroom, we’d discuss anime movies and manga, and it was fine.

  I tilted my head back to get a better view of the stars. If I squinted, it was easy to pretend that the satellite sweeping across the face of the moon was actually the Maverick. I pictured the panel I’d drawn yesterday, the final page of my new comic: Hogan stood at the helm, joking with Selena as they got ready to engage the warp drive. Heading out into the unknown again, their ship small against the vast sweep of the stars, their destination always just past the horizon. Never knowing what was coming around the bend.

  But that’s what life is like for all of us, right? Facing the strange and unfamiliar, standing strong when it’s tough and scary. We just have to stick together and help each other get there. And try to have a little fun along the way.

  At least, that’s what I think.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  In this story, I wanted to portray the life of one particular boy and his family and friends as openly and honestly as possible. This is a work of fiction, although it’s heavily grounded in the real-life experiences of several transgender children. That being said, there is no “right” way to be transgender or gender expansive, in the same way that there is no one way to be cisgender. Shane’s choices when it comes to medical interventions are his own and not necessarily the ones that everyone in his situation would make. Although he feels like he was born in the “wrong” body, that’s certainly not the case for every trans person. Plenty of people choose to embrace their place on the gender spectrum without taking medications or having surgical intervention. There is no right or wrong, just personal choices that every individual must make for themselves.

  There are a lot of great resources available for kids like Shane, information that can provide guidance in deciding what’s best for them. There are also some fantastic organizations fighting to improve the lives of transgender and gender-expansive people. I’ve listed some of them, although there are many others doing wonderful work for the LGBTQIA community.

  For me, this is first and foremost a story of hope overcoming hate. Love overcoming fear. Trust, empathy, and understanding overcoming all the forces that are sometimes rallied against them. I firmly believe that if we embrace these beliefs, the world becomes a better place for all of us.

  —M. G. Hennessey

  Please visit the following websites for more information:

  Gender Spectrum (www.genderspectrum.org), which hosts online support groups and conferences

  Transgender Law Center (www.transgenderlawcenter.org)

  PFLAG (www.community.pflag.org/transgender)

  TransKids Purple Rainbow Foundation (www.transkidspurplerainbow.org)

  TransYouth Family Allies (www.imatyfa.org)

  Camp Aranu’tiq (www.camparanutiq.org)

  Trans Student Educational Resources (www.transstudent.org)

  The Trevor Project (www.thetrevorproject.org)

  Ally Moms (www.callhimhunter.wordpress.com/ally-moms)

  Human Rights Campaign (www.hrc.org)

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I owe a tremendous debt to everyone who helped make this book possible, especially editor extraordinaire Karen Chaplin, whose tireless efforts improved every aspect of this story. Thanks also to visionary Rosemary Brosnan, PR queen Olivia Russo, art designer Erin Fitzsimmons, cover designer Erwin Madrid, frighteningly savvy copyeditors Bethany Reis and Valerie Shea, and everyone else at HarperCollins who worked so hard on The Other Boy.

  My agent, Stephanie Kip Rostan, deserves a medal for always saying and doing the right thing, a life skill that I truly wish I’d been born with. I’m extremely fortunate to have her in my corner.

  I couldn’t have asked for a better partner at bringing Shane’s drawings to life than Sfé R. Monster. The illustrations were exactly what I’d pictured when I was writing the book (which is especially impressive given my extremely vague descriptions of the characters and settings). I’m a huge fan of all their work, which you can see more of at www.sfemonster.com.

  Finally, my family is my true secret weapon; their unconditional love and support has made me a better person. Everyone should be so lucky.

  There’s a saying that “You can’t hate someone whose story you know.” My hope is that by knowing Shane, a regular kid who loves baseball, graphic novels, and video games, we’ll all err on the side of love, understanding, and compassion.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR AND ILLUSTRATOR

  M. G. HENNESSEY loves Star Wars, the San Francisco Giants, strawberry ice cream, and dancing (not necessarily in that order). If she could choose one superpower, it would be flying. A supporter of the Transgender Law Center, Gender Spectrum, and the Human Rights Campaign, she lives in Los Angeles with her family. Visit her on the web at www.mghennessey.com.

  SFÉ R. MONSTER is a comic artist and illustrator who is deeply invested in the telling of transgender stories, whose own work includes the comic Eth’s Skin and the Beyond anthology. Sfé lives on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean in Nova Scotia, Canada, and enjoys conspiracy theories, eerie beasts, and folk music. Visit Sfé R. Monster at www.sfemonster.com or on Twitter @sfemonster.

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more at hc.com.

  CREDITS

  Cover art © 2016 by Erwin Madrid

  Cover design and hand lettering by Heather Daugherty

  COPYRIGHT

  THE OTHER BOY. Text copyright © 2016 by M. G. Hennessey. Illustrations copyright © 2016 by Sfé R. Monster. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  www.harpercollinschildrens.com

  * * *

  ISBN 978-0-06-242766-3 (trade bdg.)

  EPub Edition © August 2016 ISBN 9780062427687

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  FIRST EDITION

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