Page 13 of Okay, Cupid

Huy Trinh Soccer

Huy Trinh Hearst High School

Huy Trinh Hearst Soccer Team

It’s only that last one that leads me anywhere. To an account named __huytrn__

Unfortunately, it’s locked. I can only see 0 posts, 323 followers, and 409 following. Plus, a bio that reads hearst soccer captain and then his class year.

Alice is tougher to find, and ends up being the same way: private profile, with a bio that just reads weeb, but not the cringe kind.

I lie there on the bed, watching the movie in the soft glow of my room. I close my eyes for just a moment. And when I open them again, my phone alarm is blaring in my ears.

“Jude!” Leah is knocking on my door.

I wake up in a daze, feeling like I’m not in my own body, my cheek hurting from where it was planted against my arm for the last six hours.

Another knock comes, Leah’s voice coming through the door. “Go ahead and get up, you’ll be late for your first day.”

School!

I pull my comforter off me, then shower in record time. Thankfully, I was picturing my first day outfit all weekend. There’s this netted olive-green sweater where the sleeves hang down past my arms. It’s annoying to constantly have to fix them as I do my makeup, but it’s also my favorite sweater, despite how the way it’s made means that its one purpose as a sweater is completely undone.

Whatever. I put on an undershirt and tan pants that hang a little loosely around my ankles. I look at myself in the mirror, feeling proud of how I look. It took me months of trying out different things, going to different stores and wondering what I thought I looked good in. There was a point when I was afraid to shop in the women’s section, when I was worried that I was being judged, standing there, pretending like I was shopping for a friend’s birthday present or something just so employees that I’d never see again for the rest of my life would think I was a cis boy.

It’s almost hilarious to think about now.

Almost.

I wanted to go all out with the makeup today too, hearts painted around my eyes with a vibrant blush on my cheeks. And now, when I look at myself in the mirror, I feel pride. I feel pride in my clothing choices and how I style them, how my makeup skills have improved. I like myself.

And it feels good.

“Jude!” Leah calls out again. “Come eat something, you’ll be late!”

“Coming!” I grab the backpack that we bought this weekend because none of my purses or other bags were nearly big enough to handle the books I’ll be expected to carry around.

“You’re going to miss your bus,” she tells me. The judgment is dripping from her voice, and the way she’s leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in her hand certainly isn’t helping.

“I know, I know. I’m going.” I reach up, having to jump to reach the top shelf of the pantry so I can grab a breakfast bar. I’d love coffee too, but I don’t have the time to go anywhere. “Are you busy today?”

“I have a shift as a waiter tonight. I’m going to spill wine on this couple, make them cut the dinner short and go back to one of their apartments. So, I’ll probably be late. You’re on your own for dinner.”

“That’s okay.” I stand in front of the doorway to the kitchen, holding my arms out. “How do I look for my first day?”

Leah seems to think for a moment, taking a sip of her drink. “It’s cold out. Is that sweater doing anything for you?”

“That’s not the point,” I tell her. “It’s fashionable.”

“Whatever you say!” she sings. “I just don’t get you young kids and how you want to dress.”

“You’re eleven years older than me.”

“Which is basically fifty years.”

“Whatever,” I tell her, adjusting my bag around my shoulder. “Wish me luck!”

“Good luck!” she calls out.