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I thought about it. “Nothing. Not really.” I pointed towards the board. “I’m still gay.”
He snorted.
“Daddy’s still a preacher. People still say stupid shit. Darius is still complicated enough to require his own psychiatric journal but...”
“But?” Trevor urged.
“The difference is I stopped believing everybody else deserved a vote.”
Silence filled the sanctuary and Trevor looked down. “What if they’re your parents?”
My heart squeezed and I kept my voice casual. “Still don’t get a vote.”
“What if they hate you?”
“Then that hurts but again no vote.”
He looked at me and I didn’t dress it up. Didn’t tell him love always won. Didn’t give him some shiny bullshit quote adults gave kids because reality made things awkward.
“It can hurt like hell,” I said. “But somebody else being disappointed in who you are doesn’t make who you are disappointing. It makes them unable to see that you shine brighter than they are able to handle.”
His eyes dropped again.
“You don’t have to tell anybody anything before you’re ready.”
He picked at his thumbnail. “I didn’t say I was going to…”
“I know.” My eyes flicked towards Adam and David. “We’re talking about biblical arts and crafts.”
Trevor smiled. “Obviously.”
“Extremely academic. Look at me, giving the best educational field trips.”
He nodded. “Very.”
“And confidential.”
His eyes lifted. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Something in his shoulders loosened. Just a little.
“Now help me put Jesus back in the cabinet before my father discovers I broke into his church and reorganized Genesis.” I stood and offered Trevor a hand up.
He took it. “You think he’ll notice?”
I stared at Adam and David. Standing proudly together. “I fucking hope so, kid.” I chuckled. “I really fucking hope so.”
CHAPTER 12
Iwoke up from a panicked sleep. The room quieter than it should have been. Than I was used to it being.
Alvin’s alarm should have gone off by now. He should have been mumbling something incoherent about how whoever invented mornings was the one who really deserved to go to hell. The bunk bed should have been creaking. And I should have been annoyed that I was gonna be forced to drag him out of bed, yet again, while at the same time secretly enjoying the routine we’d fallen into over the last few days.
Instead, I heard nothing but the fan ticking in the corner and my own flustered breath. The top bunk was empty. I didn’t have to look to know that it was. I could feel his absence just as easily as I felt his presence. It was innate. Wherever he was, I could feel it long before he appeared.
For the first few minutes, I was confused. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him. If he’d ever come in after the nightly campfire or if my yesterdays and todays were all just blending together.
