You fight the packaging and finally get the razor out. Three silver discs, clustered together at one end, hum to life when you hit the power button. You look for instructions, but they only say how to turn the thing on and off, how to charge it and clean it, let youknow it’s waterproof but shouldn’t be submerged in water, remind you that water and electricity don’t mix.
There’s nothing on how to actuallyshave.
Isn’t your father supposed to teach you or something?
You’d look up a video on YouTube, but your phone is charging in your room.
So you do your best.
“Farshid, you need your coat,” your mom says as you pull up at the drop-off.
“I have one!” It’s stuffed into your backpack.
“It’s cold out. Why are you still wearing shorts?”
“It’s not that cold.” It’s still above freezing, and anyway, your legs are the only things worth showing off. Your sweatshirt hides the lack of growth in your D-tier arms and C-tier shoulders, and keeps you plenty warm. “Would you just let it go?”
“I’m only trying—”
“Trying to control me!” you spit. “I’m fine. God. Just let me go to class.”
You unbuckle your seat belt and wait impatiently for the door to slide open, swinging out as soon as the gap is wide enough, except it’s not quite wide enough and your backpack snags for a moment, so you yank harder, ignoring Maman calling after you to have a good day. You would, if she’d stop smothering you.
Your face feels weird and raw, your upper lip still burning, stinging at the gust of cold air that bites you on the way to the doors.
Nour beats you to first hour, and she gestures impatiently foryou to take your seat behind her. She spins around, drumming her green fingernails against the red plastic of the chair attached to her desk, while you pull out your notebook. Her keffiyeh looks cozy where it lays across her shoulders, and for a second you regret how you talked to your mother as you got out of the car, because itwascold this morning, and your shorts and boxers let the cold air go right up to your core, but no way are you going back to the tighty-whities Maman used to buy for you back in middle school, even though they did keep you warmer and even though they did do a better job hiding the occasional accidentalexcitement.
But your sweatshirt’s long enough to pull down past your waist, should the worstarise.
“What are you doing after school?” she asks without preamble.
“Going to the gym, why?”
“Come to RC with me.”
“RC…” Your eyebrows bunch up as you try to figure out what she’s talking about. “Rainbow Coalition?”
Rainbow Coalition is the renamed Gender and Sexuality Alliance, which was the renamed Queer Student Association, which was the renamed Gay-Straight Alliance. You wonder what it’ll be named by the time you finally graduate.
And then you wonder why Nour suddenly wants to go.
Oh God. Is she coming out to you? You’re honored she trusts you enough, and a little worried for her if you’re honest, because only two months ago Dayton Reilly shouted a slur in front of the entire freshman class and all he got was three days of ISS, and Nour is already conspicuously brown, so adding any kind of queerness to it would just paint a bigger target on her back.
But you’re also happy for her, and proud of her bravery, andyou’re getting ready to tell her so when she rolls her eyes, cutting you off.
“I’m going as an ally. For Esperanza.”
Esperanza is one of Nour’s best friends, though she’s a sophomore, so you don’t hang out that much.
“Oh. Cool.” You didn’t know that about Esperanza.
“So? Will you come? She says they need more allies.”
You want to say no.
You want to tell her you heard that word in the cafeteria just last week, that Dayton and Brody still look at you funny in the locker room, that you don’t want people to talk about you any more than they already do, that it’s not worth the risk, that you’re too busy anyway because despite the increased protein intake and heavier weights and larger sets you’re still not seeing the changes you want in your body composition.
But this is Nour you’re talking to, and she doesn’t take no for an answer, not when she’s right, and she is right. You should be an ally.
