But right now it doesn’t feel that way to her. Not at all.
She gives Hugo a rueful smile. “It was hard sometimes.”
“I’m sure.”
“Not because of them. They’re the best. But it’s a small town, and I was the only kid with gay parents.” She shrugs. “People can be jerks, you know?”
“I do, actually,” Hugo says, his face serious. “Though you seem pretty well equipped to handle that sort of thing.”
“Maybe,” she says. “But it can still sting. I remember one time my dad came to pick me up at school, and the new secretary wouldn’t let me leave with him because we don’t have the same last name. It was awful. It didn’t matter that it’s my middle name, or that we look exactly alike, or that he’d picked me up a million times before. She wouldn’t budge, so we just had to sit there in her office, both of us stewing, until Pop came to get us.” She shakes her head. “Another time, I was at the playground with Pop and some kid came up and said he heard he’s not my ‘real’ dad. As if biology is the only thing that counts.”
“What did you do?” Hugo asks, his eyes big.
“I punched him in the stomach,” she says with a grin. “I was only six. But still. Not always as calm, cool, and collected as I probably should’ve been.”
“It can be hard to ignore that stuff.”
She nods. “Did you guys get teased a lot at school?”
“Not so much there. It helped that there were six of us. But you should see the comments section on my mum’s blog.” He whistles and shakes his head. “If you’ve ever wondered where the racist, sexist, antigrammar crowd likes to spend their time, look no further.”
“That’s horrible,” Mae says, alarmed, but he only shrugs.
“Mum’s not too fussed about them anymore, and neither are we. Not that I wouldn’t mind punching some of them in the stomach. But it’s easier to ignore than in real life.”
“Yeah, but they’re still out there.”
“They’re still out there,” he agrees, burying his nose in her shoulder. She takes one of his hands and begins to trace the lines of his palm, and she feels a rush of pleasure when he flips it over, capturing her hand inside his own.
“What about the blog?” she asks. “Do you read it?”
He laughs. “Not if I can help it.”
“I liked the one about how you and Alfie—”
“What,” he says with a groan, “you read it?”
“I mean, I wouldn’t say I’m a regular or anything, but I had to do my homework on you.”
He shakes his head, but one of his dimples has appeared, so she can tell he’s amused. “Which one was it? Alfie and I got up to a lot of trouble when we were little.”
“The story about you guys running away to London.”
“Right,” Hugo says, folding his arms across his chest. “That was Alfie’s idea.”
She was expecting him to laugh, but instead he looks somber.
“What?” she says, and he sighs.
“They rang me earlier, when you were doing interviews. Alfie told the others about the email from the university, and they were all planning to go plead my case tomorrow. Even George.”
“Wow,” she says, smiling at this. “That’s really cool of them.”
“I told them not to do it.”
She nods. “I figured.”
“I don’t want them to risk their own scholarships,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “And honestly, I can’t have them fight my battles. Not anymore.”
