by TJ Klune
“Okay,” I said easily. “You were saying people can be dicks?”
He was once again refusing to look at me. “Yeah. It’s better now because it’s summer, but….”
“At your school?”
He nodded tightly. “It’s just… Kai, you know?”
Ah. There it was. “Kai’s all right, I guess.”
He shook his head. “More than all right. Kai’s the best. Like, you have no idea.”
I really didn’t. Kai was the most standoffish out of everyone who came to Phoenix House, more likely to be looking down at their phone than up at anyone. They only seemed to talk with Diego and Marina, though I thought they were warming up to Jeremy. “You been together long?”
He shrugged awkwardly. “Really long time. Since just after Christmas.”
Really long time. Jesus Christ. “Kai’s in foster care, right?”
He nodded.
“And it’s all good there?”
He nodded again. “They don’t really… care? I mean, they do but they don’t, you know?”
I did. I said as much. “They like you okay?”
“Their foster mom does. Foster dad works nights, so he’s not really around when I am.”
“And your parents?”
That was a mistake. I played my hand too early. “What about them?” he snapped, glaring at me fiercely.
“Just wanted to see if they were okay with Kai,” I told him. “Nothing more, man. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay with me.”
He had a stubborn jut to his jaw. He was challenging me. “My mom’s illegal. I’m a Dreamer. I qualify under DACA.”
Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals. That was what Marina was probably going to say before she stopped herself on the first day after introducing us. I got why. It wasn’t her business to tell me unless I absolutely needed to know.
“Hey,” I said. “That’s great. I bet your mom works hard.”
He didn’t look like he believed me. “She does. It’s just us, but she does a lot. She cleans houses. Does a real good job. When she gets really busy, I go and help her sometimes.”
“That’s great.”
His brow furrowed. “She doesn’t know about me. She knows Kai, but… she doesn’t speak English very good. And I don’t—it would be hard for her to understand.”
“I get that,” I said quietly.
“You told your parents? About being trans?” He recoiled sharply. “I mean, uh… being… what was it called?”
“Bigender.”
He nodded. “I try and get that stuff right. It’s important. I messed up a lot when I first started talking to Kai about stuff. Getting the pronouns all wrong. I’m sorry.”
I waved him away. “You don’t need to apologize. I know what you meant. But thank you for trying. Some people won’t even do that.” I took a deep breath, wanting to keep things a little vague but to give just enough for him to know I wasn’t full of shit. “No, my parents don’t know. But that’s only because I don’t know who they are. I was raised in foster care like Kai.”
His eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Makes sense.”
I squinted at him. “How’s that now?”
“You know,” he said. “Just… you. You usually can tell the kids raised in foster care.”
“You can?”
“Sometimes,” he said. “They’re just… different.” He looked panicked again. “But not in a bad way! It’s just… different. Like Kai is different, but in the best way possible.”
I smiled. “You really like them, huh?”
He blushed. It was adorable. “Yeah, I guess. Kai’s not like everyone else.”
“They’re different.”
“Yeah. But… like. You know.”
I laughed. “Yes, Diego. I know.”
He looked relieved. Then, “People can be dicks.”
“You mentioned that before.”
“Right,” he said. “But it’s like some people don’t appreciate different, you know? I mean, a lot of them are fine, but some people are mean.” He scowled. “And I don’t like it when they’re mean to Kai for being enby. I try and protect them as much as I can. I even got into a fight over it. Almost got expelled.”
He said it like it was something to be proud of. I didn’t think I should try to take that away from him, but it felt like we were treading on thin ice. “Almost?”
“Yeah,” he said. “They were going to, and Kai was shouting about how stupid it was, but then some other kids came forward. Said the other guy started it. Witnesses, or whatever.”
I nodded. “That’s good. Just so long as you know fighting should be avoided if at all possible.”
He scoffed. “I know that. But sometimes it just feels good to punch a homophobe in the throat.” He scrunched up his face. “Transphobe? Enby-phobe?”
I covered up a laugh. “I get it, Diego. Did you have a question, though? From your note, it sounded like you did.” Then, because I was curious, “And why did you want to come to me? I’m grateful you did, but—”
“It’s because you told us about you,” he said. “You didn’t try and hide anything. You were up-front about it.”
I was absurdly touched. “All right, that makes sense. What’s your question?”
Once again he looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know if I should say. I don’t want to get in trouble.” He looked away. “Or Kai to know I’m even asking.”
“Unless it’s doing something illegal, you won’t get in trouble for asking a question,” I told him. “At least not with me.”
He was quiet for a long time. I was about to tell him he could always come back if he wanted to when he said, “You don’t want to change. Like, completely.”
I thought I knew where he was going, but I wanted to make sure. “Change how?”
He leaned against the edge of the desk, crossing his skinny arms defensively over his chest. “Transition.”
“No,” I said simply. “I don’t.”
“Because you’re bigender, and that’s different.”
“Yes.”
“Okay, but, like… if someone wanted to, do they… go to the doctor and get shots?” He was frowning again. “T-injections.”
“For female-to-male transition, yes. But there’s more involved than that, Diego. You can’t just go to a doctor and ask for the injections. You have to be evaluated by a therapist before, and with consent of a guardian if you’re under the age of eighteen.” I hesitated. Then, “Is that what Kai wants to do?”
He shook his head before stopping and shrugging. “Maybe? I don’t really know. It’s… like, some days, they talk about stuff like that. They’re enby, but that’s….”
“It can change,” I told him. “Gender identity. It’s fluid. You can find a label that works for you at first but might not be what you want later on. It happens.”
“I can get some,” he blurted out, almost looking horrified at the words coming out of his mouth. “If I needed to.”
“Get what?”
“The shots.”
I sat up in my chair quickly, startled at the implication. “Whoa. Hold up. Not from some random, right?”
“He’s not some random—”
“Unless he’s a licensed physician, he is some random,” I said sharply. “Think, Diego. If this is something Kai wants, really wants, there are proper channels to go through. Do you really want to jeopardize their health to get something from some dude off the streets? You said you’re Kai’s protector. This isn’t how to protect someone.”
He deflated. “It’s not like they’ll have health insurance for long, the way things are going. And I don’t have any myself, so I can’t marry them and use mine. Isn’t it better to have a plan?”
Holy fuck. He shouldn’t have to be thinking this way. “It is. But this isn’t the way to go about it. You’ll never forgive yourself if something goes wrong.”
He wouldn’t look at me. “It was just an idea.�
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“I get that. But it’s not the right way. Have you actually talked to Kai about this? Or is this something you’re spearheading on your own?”
His hands curled into fists. “I’m just… you have to prepare. For any eventuality. And if the moment comes, I need them to know I can handle it. I can take care of it for them. That’s what I do.”
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “I get that. And that’s awesome of you. But there’s a right way and a wrong way.”
“But their fosters won’t—”
“You’re seventeen, right? Both of you?”
He nodded.
“And do you think this is life-or-death? Something that needs to happen in the immediate future? Is Kai in danger of hurting themselves if this doesn’t happen right away?”
He shook his head.
“Then you have time,” I told him. “Soon you’ll both be eighteen, and Kai will be able to make those decisions on their own. And since you already support them in such a ridiculously spectacular way, they’ll be even happier then to know you’re in their corner. When and if that moment comes, you find me or anyone here, and we’ll help you the best we can. And if it’s insurance-related, we’ll figure out something. I’m sure of it.” It felt like hollow platitudes. My own insurance premiums weren’t too bad, given I had it through the college, but it wasn’t great.
“It’s what you’re paid for, right?” Diego said, sounding resigned.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not getting paid shit. This is part of my schooling. You’re getting the Corey Ellis Experience for free. And,” I said quickly, just as he started to clap back, “because I want to be here. Talking to you all is the highlight of my day.”
“Really.”
“Really.”
There was a sparkle in his dark eyes, and I knew whatever he was going to say next I really wasn’t going to like. “Nothing to do with Jeremy, then?”
Yep. Fuck him. Fuck the children. I hoped the ozone depleted and the surface of the earth burned. I was done. I stood abruptly. “Diego, this has been an enlightening conversation. I’m glad you feel you could come to me. Keep that in mind for the future. Spread the word so everyone else knows the same. Unless there’s anything else, you can find your way out.”
He grinned at me. It lit up his entire face. Cute kid. An asshole, but cute. “That serious, huh?”
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” I snapped at him. “Jeremy is a colleague, my boss, and my former professor. We have a strictly professional relationship.”
He waggled his eyebrows at me as I shoved him toward the door. “Hot for teacher, huh? I can dig it. My science teacher, Mr. Grayson, likes to wear tight pants that show off his—”
“Out!” I all but growled at him, pushing him through the door. “No more!”
He laughed as he turned around. I was about to slam the door in his face when he said, “Thanks, Corey. I knew I was right to talk to you. I appreciate it.”
I softened. “Anytime, Diego.”
“But if you ever need advice on how to get with—”
Then I slammed the door in that smug face.
THE FIFTH thing I learned about Jeremy Olsen was he didn’t push. He knew when to back off.
Twenty minutes after I unceremoniously threw Diego out of the office, there was a knock on the door. Sure he was back to give me more shit, I threw it open, ready to snarl at him that I was his elder and therefore deserved respect, but managed to bite my tongue when I saw Jeremy there, hand still raised.
He blinked. “Are you okay?”
I nodded jerkily. “Fine! Everything is fine.”
“You sure about that? You seem a little… worked up.”
Jesus Christ, did everything he said need to sound like innuendo?
(Yes, I am aware that was just how my porn brain chose to process it. Shut up.)
I grinned maniacally at him. “Just having good day!”
“Uh-huh.” He leaned against the door. “Everything good with Diego? Anything we need to be worried about?”
I stepped back, shaking my head. “No. He wanted to talk. Had a few questions about being trans. That’s all.”
Jeremy rubbed his jaw. “Marina seemed surprised.”
“About what?”
He shrugged. “She’s been trying to get Diego to open up for a while. Says he’s a tough nut to crack. She was happy when she thought he chose you to talk to. I am too.”
I turned away from him so he wouldn’t see me flush. “It wasn’t…. It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, Corey. These kids need to know they can have someone to talk to, someone to ask questions to. It’s important.”
“It’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”
He sounded frustrated. “It’s a compliment. This is a good thing.”
I sighed as I turned back around. “I know. It can be a lot. I mean, I knew what I was getting into, but this was like… my first time.” I groaned. “Jesus, that sounded terrible.”
He laughed. “Especially since you just had a minor in the office behind a closed door.”
I glared at him. “Why do you have to say it like that?”
“One of us had to. But it’s a joke, of course. A little tasteless, but hell, you’re closer to his age than you are to mine, so it was probably a little much. Sorry about that.”
Yeah, great. Wonderful. Peachy. Just what I needed, to be reminded that he was so much older than I was and that he probably saw me just as he saw the others in Phoenix House. “It’s fine. No worries.”
He watched me, looking for what, I didn’t know. Finally, “I’m just happy you’re here. In fact, I probably would have recommended you for this place had I known what I was getting into. I might have even tried to steal you away if you had taken a position anywhere else.”
My traitorous heart started going into overdrive. Did that mean he thought about me constantly and quite possibly pined for me from a distance, wishing things could be different if only so he could eat the breath from my mouth? I mean, that was fucking gross, and I really wish I hadn’t thought it, but still. “You would have done that for me?”
He nodded. “You were one of my best students. I would do that for any one of you.”
Oh. Oh, fuck. Me. “Thanks,” I said cheerfully, even though I was ready to scream and punch a wall. I probably wouldn’t have, because I was a wuss when it came to pain, but I was thinking about it. “That’s so nice to hear.”
He faltered slightly. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes,” I said as evenly as possible. “And I swear to god, if you ask me that one more time, I’m going to call Coldplay and tell them you hate them.”
His gaze narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Watch me, Olsen.”
He shook his head. “Trouble. I should have known you were going to be trouble.” He pulled himself away from the door frame. “Finish up in here and then come out front with us. Marina wants to have a meeting and talk about Pride Month and what it means for all of us.”
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll be right out.”
He nodded. He looked like he was going to say something else, but then he smiled and left me standing there, staring after him.
(And no, I wasn’t watching his ass.)
(Much.)
Chapter 7: Cheesy Tots and Accidental Double Dates
IT WAS a Saturday toward the end of June when I realized, much to my dismay, that I was completely and utterly lame.
I didn’t quite understand what was going on at first. There I was, sitting in my bedroom, fucking around on my computer. It was early afternoon, and I was trying to update this stupid community website I’d been part of for a few years now. It was a Wiki site and had started out as something of a lark, but I had stuck with it for some reason.
Some of my articles had gotten quite a few comments from someone called TiberiusIsMysterious. He alternated between saying how ridiculously pointless the entire article (
and the website in general) was and randomly saying thank you for helping him learn how to be normal, even though he was going to ignore everything he learned and that I should be ashamed for putting such drivel on the internet.
“What the fuck,” I muttered to myself. “Pick a point. Christ, you sound exhausting.”
The house was quiet. Sandy was out with Darren, going, as he put it, antiquing. Since I doubted Sandy or Darren owned anything made before 2010, I assumed that meant that Sandy was riding Darren’s face in an alley somewhere. Later, they were supposed to go see a movie Sandy’s cousin was in, some weird art-house thing about a human sunflower making out with gay humanoid lions. They had invited me along, but that sounded terrible, so I declined.
I’d texted Paul to see if he and Vince wanted to go get lunch, but had gotten a response saying that Vince was forcing him to go to a biker convention. When I’d called him immediately to ask what in the holy hell he was talking about, Paul morosely told me that biker meant bicycle, and that everyone there would be healthy and talking about how gluten is the devil. “Do you know how many things have gluten?” Paul demanded. “So many delicious things!”
Ty hadn’t responded to my text. I assumed because he was busy being overdramatic about Bear and Otter having babies.
Nana did respond, but only to tell me that she was busy. When I asked what she was doing, she said that if she told me, she’d have to kill me.
I believed her.
It was about this time that I realized I had just texted Paul’s grandmother to see if she wanted to hang out, and that I was irrevocably lame.
“Why don’t I have more friends?” I muttered, scrolling through my contact list. That answer came easy: it was because most people were dumb and didn’t appreciate my finer qualities.
I came across Jeremy’s name, hesitated, but then continued on.
Nothing. No one.
I was so alone.
Naturally, as a young queer does when they’re bored, I opened Grindr to see if getting laid was an option.
That was a mistake.
The first profile I came across was one I recognized. Brian, he of the one-night stand with Sandy and consumer of more bacon than should have been humanly possible. I’d seen him around every now and then at Jack It, looking no worse for wear after he’d been auctioned off to the Dairy Queens, an actual biker gang in Tucson. I’d heard rumors he’d been part of a very wet and exuberant gang bang, but it looked like he was once again on the prowl. I didn’t have much to do with the Dairy Queens. They were part of Tucson’s leather community and spent most of their time at the queer leather bar, the aptly (and horrifyingly) named Build-a-Bear Sweat Shop. I’d never been inside, but Charlie said it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. That wasn’t the ringing endorsement he thought it was.
