Page 66 of The Way We Swing

When I go to prom next week, I won’t be tagging along with a girl and acting like I’m in love.

I’ll be going by myself, a gay baseball player. I’ll be going as Tanner Quinn.

I finished reading and looked up at Bella, my eyebrows raised.

“You ready?” she asked.

I shrugged, but my hands twisted the edge of the paper tighter than I meant to. “Doesn’t matter now.”

“Tell me if I need to beat anybody’s ass.”

Normally, I hung out in the halls before the first bell, but not today. I folded the paper and walked to math class, aware of conversations buzzing around me but hearing nothing. My shirt felt a size too small; the sleeves had a stranglehold on my biceps. I wished I had worn a hoodie so I could cover my head.

The classroom was dark and empty, the type of quiet that made me overthink. My footsteps echoed as I crossed to the back and sat down, and my heartbeat tapped behind my ribs. I pulled out my chair; the coolness of the seat was a stark contrast to the heat I felt throughout my body.

The door slammed open. Ricky barreled in, paper crushed in one fist. I froze, chest tightening, bracing for whatever came next.

“Tanner, what the fuck is this?” he said. He pushed his glasses up his nose hard enough I was afraid he was going to break the glass. He stared daggers at me, his whole body strained like he was ready to pounce.

My mind raced with what he might say. Would my best friend for a decade cut me off? Would he say he couldn’t stand the sight of me, that I disgusted him?

Then he finally opened his mouth and shattered my panic into pieces. “My best friend of a decade is gay, and not once has he made a move on me. This is unacceptable.”

It took me a second to realize what he’d said, and then my mouth hung open, followed by a laugh. “That’s what you’re mad about?”

“Damn right I’m mad! Am I not good-looking enough? Not enough style? What is it?” he said as he took his seat next to me.

“Shut it, Ricky,” I said, but I couldn’t stop the heat crawling up my neck or the grin tugging at the corner of my mouth.

He stopped talking for a moment, and other people started to file in.

“No one’s going to care, man,” he said, reaching out with a fist bump.

“I hope not.”

Math class crawled by without issue, but by lunch I was starting to get some looks as I walked from class to class. Namely from Erin McAllister, who ran off in a huff when I passed her in the hall.

As I strolled to the cafeteria, I felt a stiff hand on my shoulder. I turned and saw Silas and Maddux side by side.

“What’s up?" I said. I jammed my hands into my pockets and then tugged at my collar.

“You have a second?” Silas said.

“Sure.”

Students surged past us, but no one paid us any mind. A locker slammed somewhere close, making me jump.

Maddux spoke first. “We were talking earlier. About your article. And, uh, we just wanted to say sorry. If we ever said dumb stuff.”

Silas joined in next. “Yeah, we had no idea. I wouldn’t have made any gay jokes if I knew.”

I looked them over. “You shouldn’t make them anyway.” I didn’t mean for my voice to come out sharp, but it did.

They both nodded like they knew they deserved it.

“You’re right,” Maddux said. “We’ll stop.”

“Thanks, guys.”