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Vann calmly peers over his shoulder at me, as if wondering whether I care to acknowledge my clown of a stepdad or not. And I do so … by flipping him the finger. “Have a lovely day, Carl!” I call out lovingly, just to send it home. Lee, who stands next to him on the step, gapes at me. I honestly can’t tell whether my stepbrother is offended or amazed. I don’t have time to figure it out either as Vann rips down the road, engine roaring like a lion, leaving the stunned pair of them in the dust of our wheels.
It might be the most satisfying experience of my life to date.
That’s topped only by the reaction of everyone in front of the school when they get a look at us—and discover we’re not arriving alone anymore. When Vann parks his bike and we hop off together, I feel like a local celebrity who’s only missing a camera crew. Vann and I stroll into Spruce High like kings, untouchable, proud, and ready for anyone to take us on. I’ve never known such power.
Today is also the first day I learn, upon Vann and I parting ways, that his first period is English with Ms. Bean. We’ve been crossing paths every day before chemistry and didn’t even know it.
In the office, Becky has an oddly excited look on her face and keeps stealing glances my way. I can’t quite figure it out until, ten minutes before the bell releases me, she comes up to my desk and, in a super secretive whisper, asks, “Are you and Vann a thing? Is he gay? Are you guys going to the Homecoming dance together? You have got to give me every last detail, Toby, I am starved for somethin’ to talk about other than all of these gorgeous Lance Goodwin Design dresses I’m seein’ on the rich girls! Please, please, please tell me you two are a thing!”
This is a drastic change from her thinking Vann was a Marlin Manson-worshipping troublemaker our precious town of Spruce needed protecting from. I’m of course deliberately copying her error of saying Marlin instead of Marilyn, because it’s an adorable true story that my morning needs. And when I let her down with a little, “Sorry, we’re just good friends,” I watch her face collapse with frustration, and then she’s back to toying around with her computer and whatever else has her super occupied this morning.
When I reach my dreaded second period, I’m surprised to find not a cocky-faced Hoyt awaiting me, but Vann, who apparently stuck around after the bell. I won’t say he’s playing the role of guard, but seeing as he knows who I share my second period with, it’s more than obvious his newfound reason for lingering. He even saved me his own seat in the back, which I take. Just as he’s leaving the classroom, Hoyt shows up, and there is a very tense exchange of staring between them as they cross paths near the door. Neither say a word, but their eyes say enough. And after Vann is off to his second period history, Hoyt notices I’m in the back—and all the desks around me are taken—and with a pretending-not-to-care smirk, he takes a seat somewhere in the front. I continue ignoring the curious glances of the rest of my classmates, who are probably asking each other in whispers if the rumors are true and Vann and I really are boyfriends, or if we’re just buddies, or if we have some secret pact against Hoyt, who is, for the first time all school year, not sitting directly behind me.
“I’ll see you at rehearsal,” Vann tells me hours later after we enjoy a lunch of greasy pizza, “and then … your house after that.” I smirk knowingly, then collect my things and head to fifth period pre-cal with my head held high. Somehow, I end up at a desk next to my stepbrother, but even his quizzical staring at the side of my face can’t touch me, nor even when he leans over the aisle toward me and whispers, “My dad was so mad at you this morning.”
Even my stepdad’s so-called wrath means nothing to me, nor Lee’s subtle use of the word “my” with regard to describing Carl, reminding me whose father he really is. That’s fine, too. Carl isn’t someone I’d lay any familial claim to in a million years. It’s enough of a stretch to call him stepdad.
It’s after sixth period yearbook—and a mildly tedious grilling from a way-overly-excited Kelsey about all the motorcycle-riding gossip she’s heard today in the halls—that I make my way toward the theater for seventh period study hall. When I reach the doors to the theater, I think about rehearsal and my glorious upcoming weekend with nothing but Vann, Vann, Biggie’s, and more Vann.
