Page 42 of Okay, Cupid

“I can tell.” Huy hunches over the table, something left unsaid.

I try to ignore that stirring. “He took me here opening day, actually.”

“You’ve known each other long?”

“Our families lived in the same building; our moms got pregnant around the same time. We’ve kind of been friends since we were born, basically.” It’s a story Cal and I are both familiar with telling.

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah. He’d pretty much do anything for me. He was the first person I came out to. I couldn’t imagine trusting that to anyone else. Not when we’re as close as we are.”

I hate using what I know about Huy against him, but this is a part of the job. I just have to tell myself that. I want to trigger a familiarity, something similar to the story that Alice told me. It’s not even a total lie—Cal was the first person I came out to. And he told me he was queer in the same conversation.

“Wow, that’s …” Huy pauses, looking down at the table. “Really sweet. You weren’t worried about his reaction?”

Bingo.

“I mean, yeah … I think that’s normal. But I knew that Cal loves me for me, no matter who I am. I mean, you’re pretty much out to everyone, right?”

“Yeah. My parents are … my parents. They try, and that’s what’s important. The team?” Huy shakes his head as he laughs at his own private joke. “They’re almost too supportive.”

“Is there such a thing?” I ask.

“You’d think there wouldn’t be. I know they’re in my corner, even when I don’t need them. Just like I’m in theirs.” His smile fades. “Last year when the season started, another school petitioned to have our matches canceled because of me.”

“Oh, fuck …”

“Yeah, the school board sided with us, and all the guys wanted to go down to their school. Teach them a ‘lesson.’ Whatever that means. Thompson stopped them, promised us the best thing we could do was beat them. Plus, I think he saw how weird it made me feel.”

“They meant the best, but it still made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s a hard thing to put into words,” he says. “But I don’t want being trans to make me different from anyone else. Like … I just wanted to be treated like a normal, regular boy. Because that’s what I am. But at the same time, I’m proud of who I am, my trans body.”

“Sometimes being trans means being a walking contradiction of yourself,” I offer.

“It feels like that a lot sometimes. Like I’m proud that I’m the first openly trans captain at Hearst, and that I’m the first trans captain to lead their team to the state championship. But at the same time, I hate that I’m the first, that even just walking around means I have to be some symbol for something.”

“As much as we might not like it or want to admit it, being out and proud is an act of defiance,” I say. “Especially in sports, with how many states and countries want to prevent trans kids from simply playing the sport they like.”

“I know. Sometimes I just wish I could be a normal teenager, not a ‘hero’ or whatever people wanna make me.”

“I understand what you mean. Sometimes it seems like cis people are prouder of my transness than I am.”

“That’s a good way to put it.”

“Like at the end of the day,” I say to him. “I don’t actually think about my gender all that much. And I know it’s because I’m comfortable with where I am, who I am. But cis people, they always want to be understanding, to be the ally, to overcorrect when they misgender. It’s weird. It makes me feel more alien than if they were just straight-up transphobic.”

Huy lets out a chuckle.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He looks down at the table. “It’s just funny how cis people managed to turn being supportive into some weirdo mentality. They forget that we just want to be treated like people.” Then he laughs again, covering his face.

“What?”

“It’s nothing, I promise. I’m just sorry for getting too deep.”

“Don’t,” I tell him. “It wasn’t a lie, what I said to you in the locker room that first day. I haven’t really met that many trans people in my life.”