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I didmy best to give Tyler a look that said there was nothing for him to be sorry about, but given my face was probably like Glass Joe after Mike Tyson whaled on him in that old Nintendo game, the eye roll kind of lost its meaning.
“Dude, seriously, you have nothing to be sorry about. I should be the one apologizing to you for being a huge scrotum.”
He shoved a shank of pink hair from his eyes. It was a motion that made him seem really vulnerable and really cute all at once.
“It’s cool. You were in your scrotum era.”
“Totally. So don’t feel bad. I don’t.” He arched a thin eyebrow. “Well, okay, I feel bad physically, but mentally I feel way better than I have in forever. Like…” I pulled in a breath, then glanced around the room at my posters. At the famous Black photographers’ collage on my closet door to a random corkboard with ticket stubs, shots of the fam, and papers that I’d done well on or totally aced. “I’ve never really fit in anywhere. It’s been worse since I started attending Chesterford, but even back in my old school, I was too Black for the White kids and too White for the Black kids. Then I started… you know.” I squinted down at the bi bracelet on my wrist and gave it a snap. His eyes rounded in surprise. “Then I kind of started struggling with this, too.”
Tyler glanced over his shoulder. The hall was empty and quiet. Something that didn’t happen often in our house. The parental units must have slipped in a Disney movie. That was the only thing that kept the girls quiet for any length of time.
“You’re bi?” he asked on a whisper.
I shrugged. “I think so, maybe. Like…” I fiddled with the rubber bracelet as I stared down at my feet. “There’ve been a few famous guys that I’ve thought I would totally date, you know, and maybe more with, but that was just famous guys. Who doesn’t think that Algee Smith is kissable?”
“No one,” Tyler concurred, which made me feel less weird about telling him all of this.
Was I coming out to Tyler? Man, that was heavy. Yet, it didn’t feel heavy at all. It felt right.
“So yeah, those were famous guys, right?” I moved next to him so we could keep the conversation on the DL. Lana was sneaky as hell when she wanted to be. The other two were too young to really be covert, but Lana was super ninja when she wanted to be. Tyler scooted over a bit, his feet on the rather worn carpeting right beside mine. Mine were bigger by a lot. “Then, I came to Chesterford and…”
“Hey, you don’t have to tell me if you’re crushing on someone in school. That’s totally something you can keep locked down tight.” He gave my ankle a tiny nudge with his foot. “Seriously, I have like a dozen crushes per semester. We have some gorgeous people at Chesterford.”
I snuck a peek to the side. Tyler was smiling softly, his gaze on the poster of Johny Pitts on the ceiling.
“Yeah, we have some gorgeous people,” I whispered, then quickly glanced back down at our feet. “Anyway, so I have this two-bi-is-too-bad thing happening.”
“Two bi?”
“Yeah, biracial and bisexual, and it’s really fucking hard.” I exhaled through my nose, but the air leaked out. The wheezy breath sounded stupid as shit. I snorted, which hurt, but not as badly as it hurt just an hour ago. Maybe it was the meds and ice, or maybe it was Tyler making the pain lessen. “Not being accepted for who you are sucks.”
“I know how that feels.” That pulled my focus from our differently sized feet. “I mean, I totally get what it feels like to be the odd dude out. I’m femme, right?” I nodded because I didn’t want to box him into a term that maybe he wasn’t happy with. “Right, and I embrace that about myself. I can be a femme male and still play hockey, or at least I think so. Shame the rest of the world is all up in arms if I wear eyeliner or nail polish to a game.”
“That sucks,” I replied because it did. “Why does stupid shit matter to so many people? Guys can wear makeup. Girls can wear a tie and a vest. Those outdated gender norm clothes rules are stupid. I mean, I’m not feeling the eyeliner, but my sisters paint my toes all the time. Check it.” I reached down, removed my socks, and wiggled my bright pink toenails.
Tyler chuckled, then tore off his socks to show me his purple glitter toenails. We both grinned at our pedicures, then at each other. Well, I tried to grin. Smiling with two shiners and a puffy nose was hard and made my eyes water, but it was worth it to see Tyler being so happy and chill. He was always so tense at school. “And this is nothing. A week ago, I was in a tutu serving tea to three ninja princesses.”
“I bet you looked adorable,” he said, then lowered his foot. His pinkie toe brushed my pinkie toe. A sizzling jolt of awareness raced up my calf, through my thigh, and right to my groin. Not wanting to act like a toe slut, but really wanting more, I wiggled my foot over a few inches. I glanced to the side. His eyes met mine. He curled his toes, then stretched them out, his little toe slipping under my little toe, and there it stayed.
We were holding toes.
I wasn’t sure if that was anywhere near the same as holding hands. Maybe pinkie toe-holding was a funny thing two dudes did, but I suspected not. Miles had never let any part of his body touch mine, or any other guys, unless he was on the football field. Off the turf, two guys touching wasfag behavior, but on the field, two guys could slap each other’s asses, and that wastotally cool and macho.
“I hope you know you can talk to me about feeling different,” Tyler said, yanking me back from contemplating sports and masculinity. I nodded, my gaze flicking to him as he spoke. He needed to sweep back that strand of pink hair again. I wanted to tuck it behind his ear so badly, but that might be too creepy, so I sat on my hands and contented myself with toe-holding. “We’re in the same boat, even though our storms are a little different. Also, just so you know, the Chesterford GSA is full of really cool students, all queer in one glorious form or another, so if you wanted to join us, you’d just be Jonah, the guy who takes all those amazing shots for the school paper.”
“You think they’re amazing?” I asked.
“Yeah, especially the ones with me,” he teased, then giggle-snorted.
“Those are my faves,” I confessed softly and got a look that might have set the sheets on fire if Polly hadn’t chosen that moment to come bouncing in with a book. We both yanked our feet apart, leaving my little toe really sad and lonely.
“I did eat dinner! Jo-bah is bed time,” she announced as she climbed between Tyler and me, her pajama leggings up over her knees and one slipper missing. “Jo-bah read.” She shoved the book into my chest, then stared up at Tyler while tugging on a tight curly pigtail. “Jo-bah ouch face is sad.”
I glanced at Tyler. “Sorry, I kind of read to her most nights.”
“Sorry, oh gosh, sorry, boys.” Mom announced as she rushed in with a basket of clothes under one arm and a box of graham crackers in her other hand. “She was supposed to wait for me to fold the laundry before her story tonight.” Mom placed the basket on the floor, dug out two bottles of apple juice, passed them to Tyler and me, then reached for my baby sister. Polly was having none of it. She began to wail and kick.
“She’s okay. Really, we’ll read the book, then she can go to bed,” I said, easing my sister from my mother. Polly burrowed into my chest, her thumb now in her mouth, and lay her head on my chest.
