I could use it.
okay hold your phone real close ok???
Uh, ok?
are you doing it???
It’s hard to text like this, Emerson.
just hold it close a second okay?
ok im hugging yout hrough my phone right mow
oh tod it is hard to tipe like this!!!!
Thank you.
I should have told you at the meeting tonight, but I kind of wigged out.
NO its super okay!!!!
i shouldn’t have put that pressure on you
i’m sorry!!!
You didn’t know.
Like, no one did, to be fair.
I’ve never even told Maddie.
thank you for telling me
and seriously if you want it i am going to give you the BIGGEST, GAYEST, FATTEST, MOST AMAZING HUG EVER next time i see you in real life
and i hope ConcernedMom1876 sees it
and her tiny baby closed mind EXPLODES
You are a menace.
but i’m your menace!!!
I’ll take that hug.
SOLD!!!!
CHAPTEREIGHTEENA MIXED BAG
The beginning of October was, much like the sacks of Halloween candy Emerson brought into the Zine Lab every few days, a mixed bag.
The weeks that unfolded in the back room had some absolute winners, not unlike Skittles, Snickers, and those weird peanut butter toffees no one but Mal liked. Editing Emerson’s submission for the November issue, which by popular vote had been given the theme Finding Our Voices, was certainly a Good Candy. The short story, told through text messages that Mal was almost certain was inspired bytheirtext messages, finally helped Mal understand that sometimes commas in weird places were, as Emerson insisted, an artistic choice and not just a grammatical error. It was hard not to see this in the gushing texts the story’s main narrator, Emmy, sent the love interest, Max. Though Mal did note that Max felt like a really generic name for a nonbinary love interest, complete with a tongue-sticky-out-y emoji in the comment margin, the story opened their eyes to seeing punctuation in a light they hadn’t before: as a choice in self-expression.
It didn’t make them stop tightening their jaw wheneverthey felt the urge to correct something, but itdidmake them consider voice more before they marked things, which came in handy later in the week when they edited Kodi’s first ever personal essay about tomboy style and finding masc-presenting community. Mal had liked that piece so much that, the next time she’d come into the Haus, they’d asked Kodi about good places to thrift clothes. Kodi was midsize, and though Mal knew they’d have more difficulty finding things in their larger size, it was nice to hear from another plus-size masc-leaning person where the good places around town were.
But the best candy of all was that the back room of the Haus—which Emerson had officially christened theMixxedMediaZine Lab, with a very glittery poster she’d plastered on the wall by the snack station—had also become a place for more than just work. It was no longer only Mal and Emerson sneaking in time to hang out. James and Alex did the same, reading quietly together at the big worktable. Even Stella dropped by periodically, though she was always there, she insisted, for something else happening in the other rooms of the Haus. Still, she seemed to linger in the lab long enough to catch up on chat and goings-on and (to Mal’s astonishment) to compliment the changing space. Sam ducked in now and then to say hello too, and on one occasion they came by to ask Mal if they were okay with them writing an article about the Zine Lab for school. Mal’s chest had swelled with a warmth at someone outside theMixxedMediastaff recognizing the space as a lab, no longer just a back room. Flattered (and more than a little flabbergasted), Mal had said, “Yeah, sure.”
One Tuesday night felt especially sweet—a Baby Ruth ofan evening. Finished with their work for the night, Mal joined Nylan and Parker at the worktable to finish their coffee while the two of them played a board game about building flowers. As Parker laid down three cards to form a beautiful pink lotus blossom, she said to Mal, very casually, “Mal, how did you know you were nonbinary?”
