“Oh!” I tilt my head. “I didn’t know you two were becoming, like,friendsfriends.”
“Yeah, I don’t know!” He rubs the back of his neck, looking around the room. “We’ve hung out a few times outside of school to work on group project stuff and it was chill.”
“That’s cool.” I stare at the ear tips. They look almost real, painted a color that very nearly matches Jayden’s skin. “Those are seriously good.”
“I know, right?” He touches them lightly. “Hey, we gotta start planning for Trans Awareness Week soon. It’s only a few weeks from now.”
“Yes. You’re right. Totally.” I look around. The seats are filling up, and there’s even a few people standing. I don’t recognize some of these faces. I see Forrest’s friend from theater, though—Mercury—standing outside the circle. She catches my eye and smiles, waving at me.
“We need more chairs,” I say.
“On it.” Jayden steps away, directing people to scoot outward and widen the circle to let more people join it.
I look around the room, watching everyone take their place. By this time of year, we usually have a set group of people, smaller than the beginning, but a solid core that will carry us to June. We’ve never gotten an influx of new members like this before. Is this from the party? Or the exhibit?
Or both?
Is this whole co-presidency thing actually ...working?
At Makayla and Jayden’s that weekend, their parents are having friends over to watch a football game, so Makayla and I hole up in her room instead. I lie on the floor, working on my rough draft of the long essay for English, and Makayla sits on the bed, working on hers. I can hear Jayden dimly every so often through the wall, cursing and whooping in turn at his video game. When he whoops at the same time as a loud cheer from the living room, we both flinch.
“Love a nice screech with my studying playlist,” Makayla says dryly.
“Really elevates the production.” I roll over onto my back, away from the laptop, and stare at the ceiling. “I’m so glad no one in my family watches football.” Which is technically true; none of the family members I live with watch it. Now that I think about it, though, I don’t know if my dad watchesfootball. He did a few times, when I was younger, but after the divorce, I didn’t see him often enough to know.
I guess I can ask him when I see him next.
What if he’s dead right now?a voice whispers out of nowhere.He got in a car accident and I just don’t know it.I squeeze my eyes shut. Why is my brain like this?
That’s not real. It’s not happening.
That’s not real. It’s not happening.
That’s not real. It’s not happening.
I grab my phone. I don’t have to wait until I see Dad; now that we’re talking again, I can just text him and ask. And when he answers, I’ll know he’s OK, and not dead. It’s like a special two for one deal, sponsored by anxiety.
Do you like football?I ask him. A minute goes by, and then he texts back.
I don’t follow it closely, but I watch a game here and there when I’m bored. Why? You getting into it?
God no,I text back, and he laugh reacts. I smile.What are you doing right now?
I’m about to meet up with my AA sponsor,he says.What about you kiddo?
Studying. We have this huge assignment for English class and I’m trying to keep on top of it.
Good, good. Let me know if you need a proofreader.
I heart react to the message. This might be the most normal text interaction we’ve ever had: no snarky comments about Mom, no drunken ranting, no nostalgic reminiscing about my childhood. It’s the kind of conversation I imagine my friends get to have with their dads all the time.If he’s willingly seeing his sponsor today, then he really must be taking this sobriety thing seriously.
“Hey, so...” Makayla says. She waits, like she wants me to fill in the blank.
I turn away from my phone. “What’s up?”
“I was thinking...” She doodles something on the corner of her notebook page. “I might want to start using they/them pronouns. And still use she/her.”
“Makayla!” I sit up. “I love this for you. She/theys are so cool.”
