Page 59 of My Own Kind of Person

“Me neither.”

“Want to do it again?”

The other guy shakes his floppy penis. “Not right now.”

The first guy laughs. “Soon, though?”

I lie across the bed and wrap myself in the sheets.

The other guy smiles. “Soon.”

Chapter 20

CODE GOLD, I message Tony. I’m in bed as the morning sun bursts through the blinds.

He responds, Don’t joke I haven’t had my cereal yet

Who would joke gold? I write. CODE GOLD

It doesn’t take long to drive the few blocks to the swamp at the dead end. I step around the gnarly tree to the spot where I can’t see any houses but I can still see the street. It’s a cool morning and the air is fresh. Last night I was living in the moment, but today I’ve returned to living in the panic. Is it normal to want to kiss your friends? Maybe Elijah and I are pioneers of a new masculinity, unconcerned with homophobic social norms. My mind is racing as I try to make sense of my feelings.

True to the rules we set for Code Gold when we were tweens, Tony rounds the corner on his bike with the emergency lights flashing. He’s wearing the camo backpack that’s forever stored under his bed. He dismounts without a word, hides the bike in a giant bush, and joins me sitting in the damp dirt near the water. He takes out two room-temperature cans of soda, a bag of chips and a bag of gummy worms, and a compass.

He gives me a long stare. “You moving again?”

“It’s something else. Something I think could be good.”

His eyes flare and he opens the chips. His hand hangs over the bag, waiting out of respect.

“Jumping straight in,” I say, and take a handful of chips.

“It’s a school day.”

“You ever look at another guy and admire them so much you want to be them?”

“Ash Ketchum and George Washington.” He bites a chip, chews, and swallows. “Continue.”

I talk through my chips. “You ever not sure if you want to be them or be with them?”

“Define with.”

“You ever watch gay porn?”

He looks into the middle distance, considering. He shakes his head. “The thought has not crossed my mind.”

“Hm.” I smack a mosquito on my arm. Tony has stopped eating but looks away so I have the option of letting the conversation pass. I find this both touching and funny. I scratch my mosquito bite and say, “Last night I saw one with two guys sitting on a couch casually getting off. It was nice—like, no big deal.”

“Good for them!”

I hold up a hand. “I’m not trying to say anything about me and you.”

He holds up a hand too. “There are no sparks between us.”

“I agree.”

“It’s all about sparks. From what I’ve read.”

“But doesn’t everyone question their sexuality?”