I had never heard the term nonbinary before, but my grandson helped explain it to me. He is also helping me send this message. I just want to say I am so impressed with your generation. I know a lot of people probably give you a hard time, but you young people are always teaching me new interesting things, and I wonder about how many people of my generation could probably never be themselves, and how many of us are feeling better, even as old geezers, seeing you change the world. Thank you for teaching me. I hope you win.
London hadn’t been able to respond to all of the messages, often because they simply didn’t know what to say. But they boosted and retweeted all the ones from other trans people. They had sent a line to that Kentucky kid. Told them they could hang out with them in Nashville anytime they wanted.
They had been thinking about that kid in Kentucky a lot.
The messages were also a balm against London’s increasing anxiety about their family. They hadn’t heard from their father since that lonelyOk. And Julie hadn’t texted anything real since that night a week ago. The Parkers were still “just fine.”
London stopped to watch a group of kids running around the yard of a YMCA. Their screams had pierced through London’s headphones.
They watched them tumble down slides, hang like monkeys from a play structure. They chased each other in zigzags, tagging the backs of elbows, giggling furiously.
London continued walking after a minute. An idea was forming in their mind.
By the time another few blocks had passed, London almost felt . . . excited.
A summer camp for LGBTQ+ kids. A cooking camp, to be specific. London would find a place in the woods and teach queer and trans and gender-nonconforming kids of all ages how to cook.
Telling marginalized kids that they were loved, that it would get better, was all well and good, but it didn’t necessarily change their realities. Giving people a skill, on the other hand, making them feel like they were good at something, was useful and empowering.
This was what their nonprofit would be.
They could reach out to other LGBTQ+ nonprofits that already existed when they got home, other city programs that already ran for underprivileged children in the summer. Hopefully their name recognition from the show could encourage some type of partnership. It wouldn’t have to be all on their own.
London’s mind was racing through everything they should do first when their phone rang.
The noise made them stop, take stock of their surroundings. They had no idea where they were.
“Julie? Is everything okay?”
“Sure, other than the fact that you have beenignoring all of my textsso I just wanted to, you know, make sure you werealive.”
London rolled their eyes. Had they been ignoring her texts? They didn’t honestly know. Their memory was blurry these last few days.
“You didn’t even respond to the video I sent where I tried on Ben’s hiking backpack and promptly fell backward on my ass.”
London laughed. Theyhadwatched that, and it had been hilarious. They must have forgotten to reply. That backpack had to be seriously heavy to knock Julie over.
Between this sudden burst of laughter and the adrenaline in their system about the cooking camp, London almost felt halfway alive again.
“I’m sorry. I did watch it. I’ve been distracted.”
“Did something happen? Did you get kicked off the show?”
“No.” London spotted a coffee shop across the street. They stabbed at the button at the crosswalk, waited for the orange hand to change. “Again, I’m not really supposed to tell you anything. But I’m in the top three.”
“Holy shit, London. So you just have to get through one more challenge and you’re in the finale?”
“Yeah.” London hurried through the intersection.
“Oh my god. Oh mygod, London, you’re going to win.”
“Eh. Probably not. Hold on, I’m going to go order a coffee and I’m not going to be that asshole talking on their phone at the counter.”
“London—” they heard Julie shout, but they were already muffling her against their chest, walking up to a sleek black counter to order their Americano.
“Okay, so what’s up?” London cradled the phone between their ear and shoulder after they’d gotten their drink, adding milk from the carafe station before walking back outside. “Did you really just call to yell at me about not answering your texts?”
“Why don’t you think you’re going to win?” Julie demanded, ignoring the question.
