by Robin Talley
Christa shook her head fiercely. Her eyes were wide and bright. “I can’t believe you did this. I can’t believe you didn’t ask me first!”
“I didn’t need your permission.” My face was getting hot. “I was telling him about me, not you. And I hated lying. Don’t you? Especially lying about something that’s such a big part of you?”
“I don’t have a choice!”
“Everything’s a choice.” The words were spilling out of me rapid-fire. “I hate to break it to you, but you like girls. We now have serious evidence of this fact. I don’t get why you’re fine gaying it up with me and Madison but it’ll be the end of the world if anyone else gets even the slightest hint.”
There were tears in Christa’s eyes. “You don’t understand. My parents will kill me. They’ll never let me leave home to go to college. They’ll never let me do anything.”
“Why does everything have to be about your parents?” My hands balled into tight fists. “Why do they get to be in charge of my life? If by some insane coincidence my coming out to my dad means your parents find out, you can always trot out old Steven and prove your heterosexuality. You could hook up right in the middle of your living room floor while they watched if they didn’t believe you.”
I was out of breath by the time I finished talking. Christa stared at me, her chin quivering.
The worst part was, now I was picturing her and Steven hooking up on Christa’s living room floor.
“Is that what this is really about?” She wouldn’t look at me. “Are you punishing me because of Steven?”
“Punishing you?” God, I couldn’t believe her. “This has nothing to do with Steven. Or you! I told my dad because I wanted to tell my dad!”
“But—”
“I’m not trying to punish you for anything. If there’s anyone who should be punished, it’s me. I knew you had a boyfriend. I knew what I was getting into.”
My breaths were coming heavily. I didn’t even know what I was talking about anymore.
“Then give it a rest.” Christa shook her head. “You don’t have to be so melodramatic.”
“I’m being melodramatic? I was having a fantastic day until I started talking to you!”
I waited for her to snap something back at me.
Instead we stared in silence. Each waiting for the other to bend. I certainly wasn’t about to be the first.
“By the way, I know you told Nick I’m the one who turned him in.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “He’s blackmailing me. Did you know that? He has some picture of you and me and he’s threatening to send it out to the Holy Life email list.”
“What are you talking about?” Her eyes were wide. “I didn’t say anything to Nick. What picture?”
I didn’t know whether to believe her or not.
I shut my eyes and scrubbed my hands over my face.
Maybe I should’ve talked to her before I told my dad. But she still had no right to be mad at me.
“I don’t know why I’m even getting so riled up about this.” I couldn’t look at her. “This whole thing between us is no big deal to you, since you’re already taken, right? Well, it’s no big deal for me, either. Do you even know how this started out? It was a stupid pact I made with Lori the first day here. We said we were both going to have a summer fling. There was a hookup tally and everything. And I won, by a lot. So thanks. That’s all I was ever going for.”
I looked up at her then. It was so hard, seeing the pain on her face.
I never wanted to hurt her. I never wanted anyone to hurt her.
“Fine,” she said after a minute. “You got what you wanted. You can have a fantastic day tomorrow, and the day after and the day after that and forever after, and you can do it without me.”
I could’ve snapped Fine! back. I could’ve said, No, please, don’t say that. I’m sorry.
I didn’t do either of those things.
Christa turned around and walked away from me. Off into the trees and the fading sun.
I didn’t call for her to stop. She didn’t look back.
Just like that, it was over.
CHAPTER 22
“But what do I say at the beginning?” The panic was plain on Gina’s face. “Do I start with ‘Hi, my name is Gina and I’m here to talk about climate change’? Or do I launch straight into telling everybody why Brian’s wrong?”
A dozen people had asked me some version of this question already. If our phones worked I’d have sent out an FAQ so I didn’t have to deal with this stuff. Instead I kept my eyes on the index card where I was copying my notes and said, “Jake and I are introducing everyone. You can launch straight into your argument.”
“But how am I supposed to argue with Brian when I don’t even know what he’s going to say? Shouldn’t he have to show me his speech first?”
“That’s not how debates work. You have to think on your feet.”
Gina looked even more terrified than she had before. I sipped my hot chocolate and tried not to let my impatience show. The debate was only a few hours away. I’d gotten up early that morning so I’d have time to transcribe my notes for my health care speech onto the cards I’d borrowed from Jake. It was the only chance I’d get to work on my own speech all day. After breakfast we had to finish putting the fence up, and after that Lori and I would teach our last jewelry class of the summer. Then we’d run over to the Perezes’ house to set up before everyone else got there. There were exactly zero minutes in the schedule to spare, but even so, all through breakfast I’d done nothing but answer questions from way-too-nervous people.
This debate that had started as a random idea had suddenly become an epic event that everyone was taking very, very seriously. The people who’d signed up to speak seemed to be realizing that if it didn’t go well they could wind up looking pretty dumb.
“Don’t stress about it.” I spotted Lori motioning to me from across the room, so I tucked my index cards into my pocket and got up to join her. Gina followed me.
“All you have to do is make sure you know what arguments you’re going to use,” I told her as I started to roll up the blankets for our class. “Remember, you have a built-in advantage. Most people will go in agreeing with you that climate change is an actual thing that we need to fix.”
“For real,” Lori said. “Meanwhile, Madison has to go out there and argue against gay marriage. Which is supported by 95 percent of people our age or something.”
“That’s true.” Gina looked slightly comforted.
“Aki?” a guy said. I peered past the blankets. It was Rodney. “Can I ask you a question?”
I sighed. Even though Jake and I had planned this whole thing together, somehow I’d become the person everyone pounced on with their questions about all the nitpicky details. Whereas Jake had become the guy who sat in the corner and freaked out at the prospect of making a speech in front of everyone.
Not that I wasn’t freaked about that, too. I just wasn’t quite as freaked as Jake. I understood, though. He was terrified to get up in front of everyone he knew and talk about gay politics. Being closeted did that to you.
Besides, I was kind of into details. They reminded me of math, or music, where things were logical and orderly.
“Sure, if you’ll help carry some blankets.” I pulled half the blankets off my pile and gave them to Rodney. He slung them over his shoulder as if they were nothing, so I gave him one more and led him down the steps. “What’s up?”
“I need an extra minute,” he said. “I practiced my speech and it came in right at four.”
“Can’t do it. Everyone gets three minutes and that’s it.”
“But I’ve got this awesome conclusion. The rest of the speech won’t work without it. Here, I’ve already got it memorized, I’ll do it for you now and you can tell me
what you think. I’m going to wind up with a bunch of statistics about attacks post-Ferguson and then I’ll say—”
“You can’t have an extra minute!” I stuffed the rest of my blankets in Rodney’s arms. He took them and stepped back, his eyes wide. “We don’t have time! Besides, it isn’t fair if you get more and no one else does.”
“Come on, Aki, all I need is—”
“No!” I stamped my foot in the dirt. Rodney took another step back. “If we’re even one minute over, the whole schedule’s off! Go rewrite your dang speech!”
“Whoa, there, Sis.” Drew’s hand fell on my shoulder. “You stressed at all?”
“I wouldn’t be stressed if people would listen to me!” I yelled.
Rodney nodded rapidly. “Three minutes. Got it. Uh, where did you want these?”
I pointed to Lori, who was laughing from behind her hand and climbing the hill to the work site. “Follow her.”
Rodney scurried off. When I turned, Drew was chuckling, too.
“Oh, can it,” I said. “Have you come to ask me a dumb question like everyone else?”
Drew held up his hands. “Hey, man, I have my orders. Passing out ballots for the voting. Far as I can tell I got the best job there is. I’m the only one who doesn’t have to write a speech.”
“Good for you.” I wished I had a blanket to throw at my brother, too.
“Uh, so.” Drew started walking toward the work site. I fell into step beside him. “I do have a question, but it’s not about the debate.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I wanted to know, uh, if you’d told Dad about, you know.”
Oh. I wondered how he’d found out. “Yeah. I couldn’t keep it secret anymore. You were wrong about his reaction, by the way. He was actually surprisingly cool about it.”
Drew stopped walking and ran a hand over his eyes. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears. “He was?”
“Yeah. It was really okay. I know you thought it would crush him, but actually he told me he was proud of me, and—”
“Wait.” Drew cut in. “What are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?”
We both got it at the same time.
“Oh, no, no, I didn’t tell him anything about you,” I assured him. “He asked me if something was up with you, but I didn’t tell him. I only—”
“You told him about you.” Drew gazed at me. I couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or impressed. “And he took it okay? Really?”
“Yeah.” I told him what Dad had said, about him and Mom being of a different generation. “It was actually kind of awesome. I’m glad I talked to him.”
I didn’t add that telling him had cost me Christa. I was trying so, so hard to not think about that.
“That’s awesome,” Drew said. “I’m really happy for you.”
“Thanks.” I gave Drew an awkward hug and refused to think about how much I’d wanted her to say those exact words.
“So,” he said. “Since you told him, I guess that means this lesbian thing—it’s for real?”
“I’m not a lesbian. I’m bi.” I’d forgotten that I never got a chance to really talk to Drew about this. He rolled with it, though.
“Oh. Okay, then. But the bi thing, is that definitely for real? You think you’ll stay this way?”
I sighed. “Drew. You sound so dumb when you say this kind of stuff.”
“You know what I mean.”
I did, actually.
It was getting confusing. I forgot sometimes how I was supposed to feel. Like, maybe I’d see a guy from far away and think he was hot. But then I’d think, Wait, I’m with a girl. I’m not supposed to think guys are hot anymore.
I liked Christa so much I figured I really shouldn’t be interested in anybody else, boy or girl. Except that she was interested in someone else already, so what did that mean?
Then I’d remember that either way, I was bi, so it was okay. But then I’d get confused again. Because even if Christa wasn’t really my girlfriend, didn’t the fact that I cared about her so much mean I shouldn’t think anyone else was hot? Or did it mean that I could think guys were hot, but not girls? Or the other way around?
Of course, none of that mattered now. Christa and I weren’t together anymore. But that didn’t make it any less confusing.
Sometimes when I couldn’t sleep I’d go over all this in my head. Would I be this confused for the rest of my life? What about when I was an actual adult? I’d picture myself all grown-up and married to some faceless person, and still just as lost as I was now.
It used to be that whenever I pictured my grown-up, married life, I was always married to a faceless guy. Now, though, I usually saw myself with a faceless girl. Did that mean I was gay now? Or gayer than I used to be, at least?
Were bi people always supposed to be exactly bi? Did it have to be fifty-fifty, or could it be, say, sixty-forty? And could it be different percentages on different days? I’d had a thing with a girl, so did I have to go out with a guy next? And now that I’d had sex with Christa, was I supposed to go have sex with a guy?
I kind of didn’t want to have sex with a guy. Not right now, anyway. Did that mean I didn’t like guys as much as girls?
Maybe I just wanted to wait until the right moment to do it with a guy. Maybe I took sex with guys more seriously than sex with girls.
Except I didn’t really want to have sex with a girl right now, either. Unless that girl was Christa.
I glanced over at Drew. I could talk to him about a lot. Not this, though.
So all I said was, “I don’t know. I’ve still got a lot to figure out.”
He nodded. “You know I’m on your side, right? I mean, maybe it seemed kind of weird at first, but I’m totally fine with it, really. I think it’s great that you like her so much. And she seems to really like you.”
God, those words. He had no idea how it felt for me to hear those words. My heart was slowly falling down in pieces around my feet.
“Thanks,” I said. Drew was being sweet, even if he didn’t really get it. “And, hey, I think you should tell Dad everything. About what happened last semester and all. He might not react the way you expect.”
We were almost at the work site. Dad was at the far end of the fence line, hammering something into the ground with a shovel. Even from this distance we could see the sweat pouring down his face. I hoped I didn’t get sweaty during the debate. I was going to be standing up in front of people an awful lot that afternoon.
“Talk to him,” I said. “Don’t agonize about it anymore. Be totally honest and you’ll feel better. I definitely did.”
Drew’s eyes fixed on Dad.
“Maybe.” Drew looked at his feet, then back at me. “Okay. I guess I can’t really put it off. Thanks, Sis.”
I didn’t think he’d actually do it, but the next thing I knew he was walking toward Dad, calling out to him. Dad leaned on his shovel, looked up and waved at Drew.
I looked away before anything else could happen. When my eyes shifted, though, they landed on Christa.
She was working on the other end of the fence, holding a pole steady while one of the other girls hammered it into the ground. She was wearing yoga pants and a purple tank top. She’d pinned her hair out of her face with a dozen different sparkly clips. Even from this distance, she looked adorable.
It still hurt, physically, every time I saw her. Usually I looked away.
This time I didn’t want to.
“Yo. Hey.” A hand was waving in front of my face. On instinct I reached up to swat it away, like a fly.
“Hey.” Madison pulled back her hand, laughing. “You don’t have to take my arm off. I’ve been calling your name forever.”
“Oh. Sorry.” She was holding
a stack of papers. I braced myself for another debate question.
“No worries. You looked rapt.” She nodded toward where Christa was pulling her hair back into a messy ponytail. “Anyway, I wanted to ask, is there a break between speeches? Meaning, if I want to talk about something Jake says in his speech, do I have time to make notes before I go up?”
“Nope.” My eyes stayed fixed on Christa. “We wanted to put in break time but we had too many speakers. If we put time between each person we’d wind up going until midnight.”
“Okay.” I could feel Madison watching me as I watched Christa. “I guess it doesn’t really matter that much. I’m already arguing something I don’t even agree with, so I’m screwed no matter what. Remind me to never volunteer for anything again, will you?”
I tore my eyes away from Christa. I’d never really looked at Madison closely, except to stare daggers in her direction.
“I thought you said something about not all gay people wanting to get married?” I said.
“Queer people. And, yeah, that’s true, but it doesn’t mean marriage shouldn’t be allowed. I might not want to get married, but that doesn’t mean you don’t.”
I swallowed. It was weird, the way Madison was talking to me. As if we were the same.
I’d spent so much time resenting Madison that I hadn’t really thought about what it must be like to be her. She was the only out gay person on this trip, as far as I knew. She must’ve been out to her parents, too, since she didn’t seem to mind the chaperones hearing her talk about gay stuff.
That was a pretty big deal, now that I thought about it.
“Hey, so, um...” I studied Madison’s face. She was studying me, too. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. I just asked you something.”
“Right, so.” I cleared my throat. “Do Christa’s parents know you guys are friends?”
Madison laughed. “Not anymore. I’m not exactly welcome in the Lawrence household. You know she’s totally closeted, right?”
