She blushes. “Thanks.”
“How long have you been thinking about this? I know we talked about it a while ago, but...” I haven’t thought about our conversation since it happened, but now it comes flooding back. I should have remembered and checked in with her. Or maybe not. Maybe that would have made her feel self-conscious.
“I don’t know, since the end of summer? Just watching Jayden’s transition, and knowing you and Anna ...it got me thinking.” She twirls one dark curl around her—their finger. “I feel like a girl some days, and some days I just feel like ...something else. Undefined. My own thing. I don’t have words for it yet.”
“That’s totally chill. You don’t have to have words.” I get to my feet and sit on the end of the bed, facing them. “Do you want to change anything else, like try out a different name?”
She shakes her head. “No, I like my name.”
“Oh my god.” I smack my forehead. “You were never our token cis person.”
They half laugh. “Yeah, that was part of it. I knew y’all were joking when you said stuff like that, but after a while it didn’t feel right. But I didn’t know how to correct you because I wasn’t sure why it didn’t feel right. I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to be...” She trails off and shrugs.
“Oh.” I clasp my hands together in my lap. “Makayla. I’m so sorry.”
She nods, looking down at the page in her lap. “Thanks.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes, my thoughts swirling over the muted beat of the music in the background. It’s like my brain is a canvas and there’s a monkey hurling paint at it. Or maybe my brain is the monkey hurling paint atme.Either way, the words are coming fast, one over another like a cacophony:You’re a bad friend you don’t deserve Makayla they don’t want to be friends with you anymore they’re going to ditch you they hate you—
“Have you told anyone else yet?” I ask. The words from my mouth sound far away, the ones in my head clamoring above them, images joining them now in flashes:Makayla’s face angry, Makayla turning away, I’m in the hallway at school screaming after her and everyone’s watching her leave me because I’m selfish and I never noticed—
“Yeah, I told Jayden a few days ago, and I’m gonna Face-Time Anna later,” they say. “I’ll tell my parents at some point. I don’t think I’m going to do a big coming out. The people who get it get it, you know?”
“Totally.” I nod vigorously. “Hey, I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
She gives me a thumbs-up and I exit the room, forcing myself to walk at a normal pace down the hall, past Jayden’s closed door, and into their bathroom. I close the door and sit on the white tile floor, pulling my legs up and resting my forehead on my knees, staring into the space between my thighs and my chest.All your friends are going to leave you they hate you you’re a bad friend that’s not REAL! IT’S NOT HAPPENING.
THAT’S NOT REAL. IT’S NOT HAPPENING.
THAT’S NOT REAL. IT’S NOT HAPPENING.
How can I even think this way when Makayla just fucking cameoutto me? They came out to me and all I can think about is my own reaction, my own fear.
I’m so fucking selfish.
I’m relieved when our study session ends and Shar picks me up. The longer I was with Makayla, the harder it was to act like I was fine. When I came back from the bathroom, they didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong, but my thoughts didn’t stop. I’d stare at my laptop, and a thought would pop up, and I’d whack it down, and another would take its place. I closed my laptop with exactly two more sentences written, bringing my draft total to one of the six pages I need.
But as we drive away, the anxiety stays with me. I rest my head against the car seat, closing my eyes. I’m exhausted, but the voices are a dull roar, a buzzing itch in my skull, in my whole body. I need to ask Makayla if everything’s OK, Ineedto, before this feeling spins out of control, but I don’twant to make their coming out about me. In my pocket, I grip my phone, fighting the urge.
Shar pulls up outside the house twenty minutes later and I follow her up the walk without a word, heading for my bedroom. I close the door behind me and lean against it, sliding all the way down to the floor.
My phone is in my hand and I’m typing. I have to stop, I can’t send this text, but I’m still typing and then my thumb is over the button and I send it, I sent it, it’s there on the screen, Makayla’s profile picture smiling at me and the three dots appear, she’s responding, she saw what I wrote and it’s over, it’s all over, all my friends will know what a pathetic, needy freak I am, and—
Yeah of course we’re OK!she says.
I clutch the phone to my chest and sob silently into my knees. She doesn’t hate me. She doesn’t hate me. She doesn’t hate me.
Or is she just saying that?
Stop.I tell myself.
Stop.
Stop.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
