It was hard to ignore the evidence of that kiss.
“He is definitely not straight.”
Lily snorted. “No shit. The entire cafeteria knows he isn’t straight.”
“He could be bi. The girls—”
“Did he actually show interest in any of the girls?” Candice looked up from her notebook.
“When Emily got water spilled on her, he asked if he could help,” I said slowly. “But he did the same thing when I tripped in the cafeteria. And he took the time to be friends with Alexis even after he turned her down.” For some reason, the realization I wasn’t special hurt. “I think he actually cares about people.”
“Breaking News: Taylor’s actually a decent person.” Lily’s folded arms were directed at Candice and not me. “How is this news? Unless— you want to date him?”
Candice snorted. “Not my type. But with the formal plans of so many students up in the air, this is a story where accuracy counts.”
“It counts to Taylor. And no one else.” Lily shoved her hair out of her face. “Surely—”
“Fern!” I slammed my fist into my hand, interrupting Lily. “He gave her his phone number! He actually volunteered it— that’s a sign, right?” And as Candice and Lily looked at me, another thought occurred. “Did Fern see him kiss me?” If she got the wrong idea, their relationship could be doomed before it even started—
“Enough about Fern!” Lily’s anger was unexpected. I took a step back. “All anyone ever talks about is Fern! She’s so smart, she’s so talented, she’s so nice! It makes me mad! Yeah, she’s nice to your face, but the moment she gets busy, you’re dropped for her popular friends!”
“That’s not true,” I protested. “Fern does so much for the school, for other people—”
“You say that now.” Lily flipped her hair back over her shoulder. “Fern doesn’t have time for anything that won’t look great on a college transcript. See if she’s still got time for you after the formal, Milo.”
Candice shook her head. “Wow, Lily. Tell us how you really feel.”
Lily balled her hands up into fists. “I know what I’m talking about. We were best friends in ninth grade. Now? I don’t think she’s said two words to me all year. And that’s fine. People change. But everywhere I go, people won’t shut up about her. Even now. You’re supposed to be interviewing me, and instead, all we’re talking about is Fern—”
“Interview?” I blinked. “So that’s why Candice isn’t in class!”
“What, you thought I’d skipped out to see you get kissed?” Candice elbowed me. “Relax, Milo. Your story is safe from me.”
“My story?”
Lily smirked at me. “Taylor said ‘write about this.’”
I swallowed. “I’m too close to the source.”
“Work the personal involvement factor,” Candice said. “Especially as something tells me you won’t be getting a repeat interview from Taylor any time soon.”
That hurt. “But it’s too personal.”
“We report on other people’s personal stuff. If we’re going to be a newspaper worth the name, then we can’t play favorites,” Candice said. “Even when we’re the favorites. Thursday deadline, Milo. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got some questions for Lily.”
****
Chapter Six
AP English. I stared at the pop quiz in front of me. My mind was as blank as the paper. The only thing I could think about was Taylor, sitting two rows in front of me.
“Write about that.”
“And time is up! Pass your papers to the front of the class, please.” Mr. Perry flicked through them quickly. “Good, good. Looks like my allusions to Brontë’s use of framing narratives were not entirely in vain— oh no. No. This will not do.” Mr. Perry came to a halt. “Milo, can I talk to you in the hall a moment?”
Taylor glanced toward me and then quickly away. That hurt more than the snicker from the jocks at the back of the class. Trying to look as if I didn’t care, I followed Mr. Perry out of the class.
“What’s the matter, Milo?”
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
Mr. Perry held up my blank quiz paper. “These are questions you know! And I know you know them, because you referenced Nelly extensively in the class debate on Monday! For you to turn in a blank paper is uncharacteristic.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you feeling okay? Do you need to see the nurse?”
Feeling like a fraud, I nodded.
“Grab your bag. I’ll write you a note.”
I was the biggest fraud in the entire school, and the nurse knew it. She sniffed as she looked at the thermometer. “Just as I thought. Perfectly fine. Nothing at all the matter with you. I expect you’ve been staying up late, playing with the Gameboy. Teenagers, today. You’re all overtired.”
I didn’t correct her. “But I can stay?”
“Yes,” she said grudgingly. “But only until next period. I want you out of here when the bell rings.”
I pulled the curtains around the bed in the nurse’s office with a feeling of relief. Next period, Taylor had AP Chemistry. I was safe!
But after that was drawing. I sighed, flopping onto the bed with a moan. Why was life so difficult?
“Are you in actual pain or is it a teenage crisis?”
I’d forgotten the nurse. “I’m fine.”
“Let me know if that changes.”
I bit my lip. Ms. Cox was not going to take as charitable a view of my condition as Mr. Perry. Still, I had a fifty percent chance of getting sent to detention, so maybe it wouldn’t be that bad?
The white ceiling of the nurse’s office stared back at me, just like my blank page had. Even here, there was no escape. My article was due tomorrow. I had no idea what I was going to write.
Write about that.
What had Taylor meant? The more time passed, the less certain I was— of anything. Once again, I replayed the circumstances that had led to the kiss in my mind. Taylor was angry, I knew that much. The kiss had been to prove a point.
Even now, a full day later, my chest burned at the thought. At the time, the kiss itself had distracted me, but now I was fully conscious that Taylor hadn’t been thinking of me, my feelings and how embarrassing it was to have your personal life put out there for the entire school to see.
Was that the point? Seeing how I liked it when the spotlight of interest was turned on me? I turned over angrily, pulling the pillow over my head, but I couldn’t stop myself thinking.
“Not another one of you! I suppose you’ll be wanting to rest too.”
The nurse had a fresh victim. I relaxed. With any luck, she’d forget about me.
“I’m fine. Just a mild headache. I don’t want to miss class.” Fern?
The nurse snorted. “You’d be the first. Sit down, and let’s take your temperature. A headache, you say? When did it start?”
I carefully pried the curtains apart so I had a thin gap to peer through.
It was easy to see why Mr. Perry had sent Fern out of class. She looked pale, and there was an uncharacteristic flatness to her. “This morning. It’s nothing to worry about—”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Now, are there any stresses in your life right now, anything that might be causing you—”
I cleared my throat loudly. “I’m feeling a lot better! Time I got going.”
The bell rang as I was making my way down the hall, and I changed direction for my locker. I walked slowly, still mulling over my thoughts. Now I had some new ones to weigh. Had Fern been surprised to see me, or apprehensive? Had she been relieved that I was feeling better or that I was not there to hear her interview with the nurse?
I opened my locker and a folded up piece of paper fell out. A note? I unfolded it.
It took me a moment to understand the sentence. “Perfect” Fern is bulimic. When I did, I was furious, scrunching up the piece of paper. Did they think this was funny? Or that I’d believe it? What was the point of slippi
ng such a cruel note into my locker unless—
I felt dizzy.
Unless they thought I would print it.
Halfway to AP Calculus, I realized I’d left my textbook in my locker. I saw Declan in the hall, hurried to catch up with him. “Declan! I need to talk to you.”
Declan ignored me, heading in the direction of the music block. “Shouldn’t you be talking to Taylor?”
“I— what?” We didn’t have time for this. The bell was going to ring any second. “It’s Fern.”
“Fern?” Declan turned.
I hauled him into the wheelchair accessible bathroom. “Someone slipped this into my locker today.”
Declan frowned at the note. “It’s not true.”
“I know that. It’s probably the same person who destroyed Fern’s posters.”
Declan slipped the note into his pocket. “Are you going to print this?”
“What? No!”
“Good,” Declan said. “Not a word to anyone. I’ll handle this.”
The bell went before I could stop him walking away. I ran to my next class, but it was no good. I stood at the front of the class while Mr. Nesbitt recorded my lateness in the roll book with his intolerably ancient handwriting. “We really cannot have this behavior, Neil,” he scolded me gently. “Punctuality is very important. If you were this late to a business meeting, you might lose your job.”
“My name’s not Neil.”
“Of course, you will. Now take your seat and we’ll continue from where we were before Neil arrived.”
Mr. Nesbitt’s droning voice was usually comforting the same way white noise was, forming a comfortable insulating barrier between the world and myself. Today it was a distracting scratch that interrupted my thoughts. I couldn’t tell whether I was more upset by the note or the implications. The anonymous note writer believed that I would report any rumor I heard without any concern for truth. Worse, so did Declan. Did the rest of my classmates think the same?
Did Taylor?
I pressed my fingers to my lips. The kiss was clear in my mind. Even clearer was just how right it felt to be pressed against Taylor. I remembered the moment I’d felt him relax. Maybe he didn’t dislike me as much as I thought? To kiss me like that—
No. It was impossible that Taylor would ever go for someone he didn’t respect, and there was no way he respected someone who wrote a glorified gossip column. Write about that—
Fine, then. I would.
I pulled a fresh piece of loose-leaf from my file and began to write. Why Coming Out is Hard. No, Not Like That.
****
I was up past midnight editing my article. By the time I sent it to Candice, I’d rewritten it so many times I couldn’t even remember which version I sent. Not that I cared. I was done with the newspaper, done with school, done with Taylor.
Seeing the familiar gray stone building rising up to greet me beyond the wrought iron fence was almost enough to make me turn on my heels, but I made myself march toward the building without flinching. I would show everyone. Prove they’d misjudged me, make them eat their words.
When I walked down the hall, conversation trickled to a halt and then restarted hastily. I smiled grimly. As if I needed more proof that people had read it. The paper stands were already half empty, and everywhere I looked, I could see the photo of Lily and her camera. HIGH SCHOOL EXHIBITIONIST: Chance Encounter gets Junior Photographer Her Own Gallery Exhibition. My article was on the second page.
I got my textbooks for my first classes, wondering how Taylor would take his demotion to second page. Would he be relieved at first or miss the attention? Would he even notice? We might attend the same school, but for all I knew about his state of mind, we might have been on opposite ends of the globe.
“Milo!” I froze, but it was too late, Alexis and Sarah Choi had flanked me. “That was an amazing article!”
“I didn’t—” What? “You really think so?”
Sarah Choi nodded. “I didn’t realize there was so much pressure on guys. I mean, with all the privilege you get, I figured that men didn’t have any real problems.”
“And you’re always alone, so I never thought you cared about others’ opinions that much,” Alexis continued. “Or that in a school as accepting as we are there would still be the pressure of expectation and disappointment. Poor Taylor!”
“You’d be surprised.” Wait. “Poor Taylor?”
“Just think what he is going through right now. At least you had time to get to know us before coming out. Taylor’s still so new to the school.” Alexis shook her head.
I had a sinking feeling. “I didn’t say that Taylor was thinking about coming out.”
“Of course, you couldn’t say that. Not without outing him. But when you talked about how important it was to allow people time and space in which to become comfortable with who they were, that was totally about Taylor!” Sarah nodded enthusiastically. “So we’ve got to support him.”
Sinking nothing. I had a weight tied to my legs and was plummeting toward the ocean floor. “Support him by respecting his right to privacy and space, right?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Milo! We’ve got to show him that we’re behind him all the way. We can’t do that by letting him have space.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, feeling increasingly desperate as we neared the corner where our paths parted.
“We don’t want Taylor thinking we’re rejecting him, right?” Alexis slapped me on the back. “Wait until English. You’ll see.”
I watched them sashay down the hall feeling utterly lost. Maybe Mr. Perry wouldn’t mind if I missed English twice?
****
It was the worst AP English of my life.
Taylor was surrounded by a buzz of excited chatter. The girls were earnest in their support and encouragement, and the guys… the guys were even more so. One look at the throng around him and I knew I had no chance of speaking to Taylor that period.
Instead, I slid into my usual desk, shaking my head at the guys making a spectacle of themselves. Seriously, Carlos? No wonder no one had ever met the cheerleader girlfriend! Others had me in disbelief. Kyle had called me a fag to my face! He had no business leaning on Taylor’s desk. And quiet, serious Zachery, who only spoke to answer a teacher’s question… Who could have predicted that?
But it was Boomer who hurt the most. Boomer, who had his hand resting on Taylor’s shoulder and was laughing with him.
I looked aside quickly and caught a sour expression on Declan’s face. I swallowed, remembering my own advice to Taylor. You can be gay, but you can’t be more popular than Declan. This was not going to end well, I knew it. I dropped my books onto my desk and slumped in my chair, braced for something dramatic.
“Good morning, class. You’re all here? Splendid.” Mr. Perry swept into the room, the ever-present Mr. Harper behind him. “Before we start, I think some congratulations are in order. Lily, securing exhibition space in Studio A is something to be very proud of! I will be checking out the exhibition when it opens. And Milo, congratulations on a very thought-provoking article. I think it’s your best piece yet.”
As the rest of the class dutifully applauded, Taylor shot me a glare. His expression said plainly “I should have known.”
I offered a weak shrug and an anguished grimace. Boomer’s hand was still on Taylor’s shoulder.
****
I timed my arrival to drawing late enough that all the seats around Taylor would be taken. My classmates did not disappoint. I dropped my bag by the table nearest the door and watched the clock. I was out the door the instant the bell rang, leaving Taylor alone with his horde of supporters.
Lunch was where things started to get weird. A couple of seniors had lingered in the lunchroom to talk to Taylor. I smirked a little as I noticed Christopher among them— I’d had my suspicions about him for years! —but Jacob had been dating the same girl since freshman year. What gives?
For the first time, Taylor’s perfect composure se
emed to be showing cracks. He nodded in response to whatever Christopher was saying, but his eyes were wandering the cafeteria. When his gaze settled on me, I saw his throat tighten.
Not a good sign. I tucked my apple into my pocket and rewrapped my sandwich.
But as I stood to return my tray, Taylor moved toward me.
“Hey!” Christopher protested. “I’m not finished. We really mean that—”
“That’s great,” Taylor said, weaving through the tables toward me. “But another time. I have to—”
Logan’s chair screeched as he stood. “All right, new kid. I have had it up to here with you. Who do you think you are, coming in here acting like you’re so much better than the rest of us, like you’re so far above it all?”
The cafeteria fell silent as everyone turned to stare.
“I wasn’t intending anything of the sort. So if you don’t mind—” Taylor tried again to side step Logan, but the football player blocked his path.
“Yeah, I mind. You think being class president means you get to do what you like? It means shit. You’re still the new kid, and when a senior football player talks to you, you show respect.” Logan took a step into Taylor’s personal space, looming as hard as he could. “Or you face the consequences.”
“I mean no disrespect to you or your friends, Logan,” Taylor said. His voice was calm and reasonable, even with Logan in his face. “But I’m in a hurry. Perhaps we can continue this discussion later?” He stepped around Logan.
Logan turned, grabbing Taylor’s arm. “I’m not done with you,” he snarled, tugging Taylor back so that he stumbled. “Think being a fucking fag means I won’t hit you? Think again, freak!”
The students in the adjoining tables hastily grabbed their bags and pulled their chairs out of the way. “Fight! Fight!”
Taylor didn’t try to shake off Logan’s grip. “This is a really bad idea,” he said. “You don’t want to do this.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!”
I was frozen in my spot as Logan raised his fist. I had to do something— but what? Run for a teacher? Useless as I was in a fight, I couldn’t leave Taylor. I took a step toward them—
There was a loud crash. Logan slammed into the table hard enough it skidded forward.
Mr. Harper stood over him, one hand on Logan’s shoulder and the other twisting Logan’s arm behind his back. “Stand down, son.”