Jude
tell her I love her with my whole heart <3 <3
Oliver
will do!
“Oh? Who are you texting with such a big smile?”
I peer up from my phone. “Hm? Oh, just a new friend from school.”
“Just a friend, huh?” Ashley smirks at me. “Does this friend have a name?”
“Their name is Jude,” I reply. “And yes, they’re just a friend.”
Ashley’s grin stays put. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that when texting any other friends, but I’ll mind my business.”
For a moment, I consider telling Ashley about my asexuality. She’s younger and more culturally informed than my dad, so she might be familiar with the concept. But would she understand? Would she get it? Would she also assume that I simply “haven’t met the right girl yet”?
Having only recently dealt with Theo’s unexpected hesitance, maybe now isn’t the time.
“Eww, who let this weirdo in the house?”
I whip around to see Bella approaching the kitchen in her navy-and-white soccer uniform, her shoulder-length brown hair pulled back in a stringy ponytail. Her cheeks are flushed, and I can tell she’s been sweating. Despite her exhaustion, she wears her trademark sassy grin.
“Porta-Bella! How’s my favorite mushroom?”
Bella visibly cringes. “Ugh, you know I’m fifteen now, right?”
I bark a laugh. “I’ve been gone less than two months! You act as if I’ve been away for years.”
“Yeah, but that nickname is cringe.”
“Wow.”
“Really, Bella?” Ashley interjects. “Is there anything that’s not cringe?”
“Nothing that either of you would know anything about.”
I snicker. “Wow, way to make the nineteen-year-old feel old. I can’t imagine how your poor mom feels.” I shoot Ashley a sympathetic look.
Ashley rolls her eyes. “Alright, that’s enough elder abuse for today. Go take a shower and get ready for Charli’s birthday dinner.”
“El Espectro?” Bella asks.
“Si, señorita,” I answer, waggling my eyebrows.
“Eww, save that for your college girlfriends,” Bella teases dryly before disappearing up the stairs.
Sunday, October 5, 2025
“DEADNAME! Over here, sweetie!”
My cheeks burn as I rush to the table where my parents sit, Mom waving to me. I didn’t spot them right away among the crowd of other middle-aged white couples at this restaurant, so, of course, my mother felt the need to shout my dead name across the room. I’m just grateful we agreed to meet in the wealthy suburban neighborhood of Bellbridge rather than somewhere within the Atlanta perimeter, so the chance of anyone relevant recognizing me is slim.
“Hi Mom, hi Dad,” I greet them as I approach.
Mom is all smiles as she stands and opens her arms for a hug. “So good to see you, sweetheart! We’ve missed you!” She’s about my height with short, layered and highlighted blonde hair, and round, wire-framed glasses. She wears all gold jewelry, including a necklace I recognize from last Christmas that holds the birthstones of all five of her grandchildren. Her Estee LauderWhite Linen perfume burns in my nose as she wraps her arms around me—the scent of my childhood.
