In the Silences
Page 1
Table of Contents
Cover
Synopsis
Title Page
Copyright Page
Other Books by Rachel Gold
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Author's Note
Bella Books
Synopsis
Fourteen-year-old Kaz Adams just wants to read comic books and spend every day with Aisha Warren. And maybe get up the nerve to ask her out, if Kaz turns out to be a gender that Aisha’s into.
Kaz had always expected to be targeted for gender nonconformity, but loving Aisha opens Kaz’s eyes to the prevalence of racism in their town. Trouble is, none of the other white people are seeing it, even when Kaz points it out. By the time they reach sophomore year, Aisha is fighting on all fronts and their school system is crushing her.
Kaz’s gender expression was something the two of them could tackle together in private. The issues Aisha is up against are different and there’s no place they can hide. Kaz can’t magically undo centuries of systemic racism—but must find a way to change minds at school and among their friends before Kaz loses the sweetest, smartest, comic-book-reading girl in the world.
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Praise for the Works of Rachel Gold
Being Emily
Engrossed…Enchanted… Rachel Gold has crafted an extraordinarily poignant novel in Being Emily… The unique mechanism of depicting Emily’s speech as computer code is striking, defining the character distinctively. The careful and deliberate spacing of Claire’s chapters are extraordinary; resulting is a pacing of action that is gripping. There is definitely gold to be found in this well-constructed novel.
—Lambda Literary Review
Speaking as a teen librarian, Miss Ingrid writes, “Gold, however, is incredibly adept at making the reader understand what life is like for Emily, who is navigating the world in a body that just doesn’t feel like it’s hers. She’s got some allies, like her girlfriend, but has so many more obstacles preventing her from being comfortable, let alone happy and fulfilled.”
—The Magpie Librarian
It’s rare to read a novel that’s involving, tender, thought-provoking and informative… What’s impressive is Gold’s delicacy in handling the physicality of Emily’s story. She smoothly navigates the more intimate parts of Emily’s transformation. And the author can bring you to tears as you read about Emily’s struggle with gender identity.
—TwinCities.com
I couldn’t put it down… It’s not a sad or angst-ridden story at all. Instead it feels incredibly honest, and there are moments of joy, anger, and sorrow, laced together in a way that will make you cry and laugh along with the characters. It doesn’t shy away from the hardship but it also doesn’t make the claim that this hard stuff is all a trans person’s life is ever… All in all, I think this is an excellent book that captures an honest, painful, but ultimately hopeful and joyful story of a young trans teen.
—YAPride.org
Being Emily 2013 Collection Recommendation
—Young Adult Services Library Association
Just Girls
The novel covers all manner of sex, sexuality and gender identities and is an excellent educational tool, as well as a very good read… This book sits particularly well in the teen / young adult audience category, but can be enjoyed and appreciated by a much older audience as well, especially those who are keen to expand their knowledge and try to understand a little more about what it means to be trans*.
—Curve Magazine
Brilliant, brilliant, and all kinds of brilliant… Written with a sure-footed and almost magical lightness… Like a great wine: a beautiful blend of different emotions and different people told with depth, and complexity. It is a richly layered novel, which leaves the reader enthralled and wanting more of this exquisite concoction.
—Lambda Literary Review
As I said for Being Emily, this is an excellent book for any young person to read as it is a story about people like them and unlike them, which is always the basis for a good tale… What comes across strongly is that, to use my favourite quote from that great woman philosopher Marge Simpson, “our differences are only skin deep but our sames go down to the bone.” This is also another fine read for any age – we were all young once and as I always maintain, still changing, still evolving.
—Glasgow Women’s Library
My Year Zero
Gold has skillfully written a story with timely topics for navigating the slippery approach to adulthood, ranging from sex and sexuality, relationships, self-discovery, overcoming difficulties with authority figures, parental bullying and neglect, and bipolar disorder. My Year Zero…will appeal to both young and more experienced adults, meeting difficult topics head-on with a compelling story (and a masterful story-within-a-story) written to both inform and entertain.
—Lambda Literary Review
Other Bella Books by Rachel Gold
Being Emily
Just Girls
My Year Zero
Nico & Tucker
About the Author
Rachel Gold is the award-winning author of five queer and trans young adult novels—including Being Emily, the first young adult novel to tell the story of a trans girl from her perspective. Despite having a B.A. in English and Religious Studies and an MFA in Writing, Rachel is better known as a nonbinary lesbian, all around geek and avid gamer. She teaches classes (that are also games) for teens at the Loft Literary Center. As a marketing strategist, Rachel has developed brands and messaging for businesses across the U.S. and has won awards for her writing, ideas and “genius marketing.” For more information visit: www.rachelgold.com.
Copyright © 2019 by Rachel Gold
Bella Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 10543
Tallahassee, FL 32302
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
First Bella Books Edition 2019
eBook released 2019
Editor: Katherine
V. Forrest
Cover Design and Art: Kristin Smith
Cover Illustrator: Alexis Cooke
Cover Designer: Judith Fellows
ISBN: 978-1-64247-036-9
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Acknowledgments
This novel would not exist without the friendship and help of Ha’Londra Dismond, who beta read multiple drafts, consulted about Aisha’s family, and helped with dialogue for Aisha’s mom. And this novel would not be nearly as sweet without Patrice James, who brainstormed scenes and geeked out about comic books with me, in addition to beta reading. Many thanks to both of you for your dedication, brain power and humor!
I am always grateful to have Katherine V. Forrest as my editor, but even more so with this novel. Thank you Katherine for your many insights, for always pushing me to be my best, and for doing it in such a clear, generous, caring way.
Also many thanks to:
Stephanie Burt who read multiple drafts, also geeked out about comic books, and researched the Science Bowl questions
Vee Signorelli for creating the phrase “two kinds of gay” and letting me borrow it (and so much more!)
My mother, Sarah Lee Gold, for all her support and many conversations about race and social justice. Thank you!
My dad, Robert Gold, for asking for a book with a nonbinary character!
Alia Whipple for teaching me how to speak to and understand dogs
Qamar Saadiq Saoud for initial brainstorming about Aisha’s family, especially her Yoga dad
And my crew of amazing beta readers: Jessie Chandler, Cheryl A. Head, JJ Khale, and Jane Wisdom
As always, so much love and gratitude for my household: the people and animals who love me and take care of me every day. You’re an essential part of my superhero team!
If you see yourself in Kaz or Aisha, or both,
I wrote this book for you.
Chapter One
August 2015
There was nobody else in the world I wanted to kiss—not even famous people or superheroes—only Aisha. I’d been thinking about kissing her since the end of eighth grade, not even three months. Summer meant more reading together, more of her telling me stories about our favorite books, comic books, movies. She saw parts of the characters I missed and explained them in startling, genius ways.
I wanted to put my lips on hers and inhale her words into my brain.
I should’ve asked Aisha out on the anniversary of the day we met. I wish I could’ve kissed her then.
* * *
I met Aisha because I got roped into setting up our block’s annual shindig. Due to my grandmom Milo’s unofficial standing as Queen-Emperor of the block, the party happened in front of our house. My job included carrying a ton of folding chairs from our open garage to the street and setting them in big circles.
Wolverine—“Wolvie” to her friends—my big, silly loveball of a dog walked with me, her leash looped over my belt. That reminded her to stick close, except when she saw other dogs and squirrels. It was early for squirrel season and we didn’t have a lot of dogs on our block, plus the street had already been blocked off for the party.
Behind me, I heard a car pull around the “street closed” signs and stop a few houses down. I didn’t realize the leash had come loose and Wolvie wasn’t beside me until I heard a man yell, “Get your dog away from me!”
Wolvie is seventy pounds of black-and-brown fuzzy love, half German Shepherd, half Lab. Her size can scare people who don’t know her—especially when she body-checks them out of joy.
She’d backed this man against his car, but only because he wasn’t petting her. Square-faced, graying brown hair, peach skin, he looked older than my mom but not as old as my grandpop. He held his hands out, trying to ward off Wolvie, who pushed into his thighs, wriggling.
He glared past me, down the street, yelling, “Dammit, girl, get over here and get this dog off me!”
A girl’s resonant voice called back, “That’s not my dog.”
I turned one-eighty to see who he was yelling at. A brown-skinned girl held a puffy white Bichon Frise in her skinny arms. Even with her curly black hair piled up on her head, she wasn’t taller than me. Couldn’t have been older than thirteen or fourteen. Anger narrowed her eyes and set creases at the edges of her mouth.
She had to be from the new family that’d moved in across the alley weeks ago. Our town was about ninety-five percent white and less than two percent black; a black family moving in was hard to miss. From my treehouse, I’d seen an older boy and his dad in the yard across the alley. I didn’t know they had a girl my age.
“Of course this is your dog!” The man was spitting mad at the girl. “Don’t play dumb with me. You get over here right now.”
I was half the distance away from this guy and standing in plain sight. Why would he think Wolvie belonged to her?
“Wolverine, down!” I yelled.
Wolvie dropped to her belly, tail wagging, watching me. She opened her mouth in a happy, befuddled pant, the edge of her tongue over her black lips.
“Come. Sit.” Wolvie jogged to my side and sat. “This is my dog,” I told the guy, though it was blazingly obvious at that point.
From behind me, the girl said, “I told you.”
“Don’t mouth off to me,” he snarled. “Bitch.” He stormed up his front steps and slammed the door.
The girl’s mouth scrunched up. More anger or trying not to cry? I couldn’t tell. She turned away, still holding the fluffy white dog to her chest. They must’ve been on a walk and she’d picked up her dog when Wolvie got loose. I didn’t want her to be scared of Wolvie.
“Hey, I’m really sorry,” I called to her. “My dog wouldn’t hurt your dog, I promise. She’s real sweet, loves people.”
The girl half turned back, then glanced down the street like she was going to walk off without saying anything. I picked up Wolvie’s leash, tapped my thigh with the command for “heel” and took a few steps closer to her. Wolvie paced with me. She knew how to behave when she had to. Wolvie sat when I stopped, just the way I’d trained her, two houses away from the girl and her dog, in case she was scared of Wolvie too.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I’m Kaz, this is Wolverine, but you can call her Wolvie.”
The girl’s eyes focused on me, face set serious like this was going to be the most important question in the history of the world.
In a way, it was.
“Logan or Laura?” she asked.
Warm sunny joy burst open in me. Those were the names of classic Wolverine from the X-Men and the new, awesome, All-New Wolverine. I thought I was the only girl for twenty miles who read comics.
“Laura!” I told her, bouncing on my toes from excitement while staying in place so Wolvie wouldn’t get up.
A grin took over her face, dimpling her cheeks, warming her eyes. “I’m Aisha, this is Mr. Pickles.”
“You want to come into my back yard and let Mr. Pickles and Wolvie play? Wolvie’s gentle with small dogs.”
She set Mr. Pickles down and he ran out to the length of his leash but couldn’t reach Wolvie, who was thumping her tail hard but knew better than to break a sit.
Aisha asked, “Are you the house with the treehouse?”
“Sure am. Come on, I’ll show you. Did you move in to that house behind us? You probably met my grandmom, Milo.”
“She brought us brownies.”
Aisha followed me to the side gate and I held it open for her. She wore a white T-shirt with a cute row of buttons at the top, plus blue jeans. Garage dust streaked my blue shirt, making it match my crappy gray jeans and the old tennies with no laces that I used for c
hores.
I closed the gate. “Wolvie might try to tackle you with love, but she won’t hurt you.”
“I’m not afraid of dogs,” she said, eyes cutting toward the house where the jerk had gone. “But let Pickles go first. You can call him Pickles; he likes you.”
“Sure,” I said. Did her dropping Mr. Pickles’ formal title mean we were on our way to being friends?
As soon as she put Pickles down, he ran up the stairs to the back patio and declared himself king of the hill with his ears up and tail high. I let Pickles sniff a bit before unclipping Wolvie’s leash. She butted against Aisha’s legs, so Aisha bent down to rub her with both hands.
Pickles came back to sniff Wolvie and they did the whole dance of butt-sniffing. Aisha peered up at the treehouse. It was six feet up the big oak in our yard, with a wrap-around staircase so Wolvie could get up there. Four walls, but one opened for good weather.
“You want to see it?” I asked.
“I have to get home soon. Do you want help with those chairs before I go?”
“Yeah, thanks. My brother bailed on me.”
“Older or younger?” she asked as we put the dogs back on their leashes.
“Older,” I said.
“Same here. Two of them, but one’s at college.”
We walked around to the front of the garage and I picked up a folding chair from the stack inside the open door.
“We should have a support group for younger siblings,” I told her. “What comics are you reading?”
As we carried the chairs into the street, Aisha listed her comics and I listed mine. When I brought up Ms. Marvel, her eyes lit up. “That Wolverine crossover in the sewer with the giant alligator? So epic!”
She faced the army of empty chairs. I only saw half of her smile, but it was the best smile, broad and open, but also like she knew a secret, her dimpled cheeks bunching up, crinkling the skin by her eyes. And she smiled like that about comics, about Wolverines and giant alligators. I thought: I am going to be her friend forever.