“I’m not,” I said, my voice still low and soft, and for the first time I noticed the crowd behind us, listening intently. “I was…” I swallowed. “I was born a boy.” We were both quiet for a moment.
“What?” Grant said, his voice rising. “What does that mean? Do you … do you have a penis?”
“Do I?” I croaked. “I feel like you would’ve noticed.”
“I don’t know how this shit works,” Grant said, his shoulders sagging, “and you keep giving me half answers. Do you have one or not?”
“What’s it matter?” I snapped, finally meeting his gaze. Now it was his turn to back away from me. “What’s between my legs is officially not your business anymore, right?”
“Okay,” Grant said, and my heart broke when he didn’t argue. “But what’s that say about me then? Does that—” He took a breath and slowed down, saying, “Does this make me gay?”
“No,” I said quietly. “How nice for you.”
He noticed the people gathered around us for the first time and his face went pale. He started to say something else but I just shook my head. I wanted to be alone, in the quiet, perhaps on the wet grass outside so I could stare up at the autumn sky and lie down and feel nothing until eventually my body slipped into the earth and nothing became everything.
I turned to face the crowd. Some of them had their hands over their mouths, eyebrows floating high on their foreheads. They were all staring silently, my friends included. I realized I was still wearing the tiara Layla had hooked into my hair and I unwound it. Up close, it looked tacky and cheap and stupid.
“Here,” I said, tossing the tiara so that it skittered to a stop at Layla’s feet. She stooped and picked it up, looking from the crown back to me slowly. “I guess I’m disqualified.”
I turned before anyone could say anything and hurried out of the school and into the night.
28
I ran down the side of the highway as if possessed. My feelings were pouring off of me like sweat, like the color sloughing off a painting drenched in turpentine. A semi honked loudly as it thundered by. I cried out in surprise and tumbled to the ground, twisting my ankle. My vision swam from the pain but I took my heels off, stood up, and kept limping.
My feet were freezing and my ankle throbbed every time I put my weight on it. I looked up and saw the stars wheeling overhead, absolutely clear and present in air this cold, this far from light pollution. Last time I had come this way the heat had nearly beaten me, and the overgrown weeds had lashed at my calves while the cicadas watched and screamed, but now the cold was seeping into my feet and the wet was clinging to my dress and the stars were watching, disinterested.
I heard the absurdly celebratory Star Wars theme from deep in my purse and looked at my phone. Dad was calling—had called a bunch of times. Word must have already spread around town. I looked up from my purse and saw that a truck had pulled onto the shoulder a few feet away. I blinked against the glare of the headlights and held up a hand to shield my eyes.
“Hey beautiful,” Parker said as he pulled forward, his truck tires crunching the gravel like bone. The cab was pitch black for a moment while my eyes adjusted, but then I could just barely make out his face in the darkness. “Need a ride?”
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to speed up. His truck kept up with me easily and after thirty seconds of a near-normal walking pace I had to hiss in pain and stop to rub my throbbing ankle.
“I see you limpin’, bro,” he said, the last word hitting me like a punch in the stomach. I squared my shoulders and limped at a more tolerable pace.
“Please don’t call me that,” I said.
“Why not?” he said. I noticed his voice sounded strange. “Ain’t you Grant’s little boyfriend? And since I’m Grant’s friend, that makes us bros.”
“I’m not his boyfriend,” I said, turning and glaring at his silhouette.
“Right, right,” Parker said, “’cause he dumped you, I heard.”
“No,” I said, my stomach churning from shame and anger and pain. “I was never his boyfriend.”
“Well, what were you then?” he said. “’Cause you’re not a girl.”
“Whatever, Parker,” I said through clenched teeth. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end and I felt the metallic edge of panic in my blood, but I kept walking.
“Aw, I didn’t mean that,” Parker said. “I mean, sure, technically, no, you sure as hell ain’t a girl, but you look like one at least.”
“Okay,” I said, swallowing and glancing at him again. I thought I saw a flash of reflected light from his eyes in the darkness. He laughed, suddenly and loudly, making me jump and catch my breath.
“Relax!” he said. “I’m just fuckin’ with you. Now, hop in and lemme give you a ride.”
“Parker, please,” I said, “just keep driving. I don’t want a ride.”
“Oh, you want a ride,” Parker said, and as my eyes readjusted to the darkness I saw he was smiling wide but his nostrils were flared and his eyebrows were knotting together. “You just don’t want a ride from me.”
“I want to be left alone,” I said.
Another text from Dad bathed the inside of my bag in a blue glow for a moment and I remembered my phone. I pulled it out of my purse and tried to unlock it when the truck’s engine suddenly died and Parker jumped out. His huge hand clamped over my wrist. I looked up at him, wide-eyed, and slowly dropped my phone back into my purse.