AllFreeNovel
Share Us
We all turn our attention to where Phoebe huffs.“Fine.”she says dramatically, releasing the shirt she had started to tug up, letting it fall back down. It’s only then that I notice what she’s wearing—faded ripped jeans tucked into black combat boots, and a black t-shirt with the phases of the moon scrolled across her chest in pale shades of blue giving way to pink then white at the center. Underneath it’s printed in bold:NOT A PHASE.
Her messy, dark blonde hair has been gathered up into two knots on top of her head. Space buns. Silver star stickers surround her eyes, making her irises look brighter than ever. And if I’m not mistaken there’s silver glitter in her hair.
My lip twitches with a smile as our gazes meet. She sticks her tongue out at me and crosses her eyes.
This fucking girl.
It’s been a couple months since she asked Waylon to tell me about her. To say I was shocked would be an understatement. Not so much because I never even had an inkling—no one ever has even hinted at such; not that there was any reason for it to come up—but because of where she grew up and the fact she was able to start transitioning so young. She just turned fifteen last week, but she’s been living as herself since she was six. Started puberty blockers when she was eleven.
Waylon had known exactly what I was thinking when he told me, calling me out for it immediately. “Didn’t realize being trans was something only you city-folk experience,” he’d said with that harsh mocking edge to his tone, the one that once upon a time would have had every hackle of mine raised and primed for a fight.
Instead, properly chastised for my ignorance, I apologized and clarified what I really meant. That, more than anything, I was justrelieved.But also, a little bit confused and a lot worried.
Yes, a lot of Waylon’s hang-ups when it comes to being queer and out in Shiloh derive from his dad’s abuse. From what he witnessed Jeremy going through as kids. But the town really isn’t as bad as it might seem on the surface—not anymore, at least—so long as you know what spaces and kind of people to avoid. It’s not ideal, but it’s getting there. Slowly, and hopefully, surely.
Still…that’s just when it comes to sexuality. For a lot of people, that’s easier to come around to, or hell, just flat-out easier to ignore. Being trans, though, or hell, anything other than cis…not so much.
“Ready?”
I’m pulled out of my dismal thoughts by a tug on my hand. I look at Waylon and smile, nodding.
“What are you wearing?” Jeremy blurts out, his voice sharp.
Waylon and I share a frown and look over to where Mason loops a boa around his neck. Unlike ours though, his matches Ivy’s in the colors of the bisexual flag.
Waylon cocks his head curiously while Jeremy looks outright livid, balling his fists at his thighs. The others have already headed toward the foyer, so it’s just the four of us.
Mason gives Jeremy a pointed look. “You guys took all the rainbow ones. This is the only one left.”
Waylon fidgets with the ends of his boa, and I get the impression he’s about to offer up a trade when Mason shrugs and runs his hands through his ashy brown hair. His lip ring catches on a ray of light streaming in through the window, glittering silver. “What does it matter?” he says gruffly. “Come on before they leave without us.”
With that, he stomps off toward the foyer to catch up with the others.
Jeremy and I share a long, knowing look. Next to me, Waylon frowns. “Whydoesit matter?” he says. Shaking his head, he clearly isn’t waiting for an answer. He turns and walks away.
Once we’re alone, Jeremy blows out a harsh breath. “I’m being stupid,” he mumbles, before striding past me.
“Jeremy.”
“Just forget it.”
I sigh.
I’m just about to follow after him, when something gives me pause, and I find myself drawn over to the couch.
I dip a finger into the brown paper bag, pulling it toward me to peer inside, and take in the array of sticker booklets and random accessories not used. Giving the bag a little shake, I see what’s buried underneath.
A rainbow boa.
Sliding my eyes shut, I shake my head and huff a short, humorless laugh.
Whatdoesit matter?
It doesn’t, I suppose. Not really.
I catch up with the others outside, locking up behind me. Turning, I take in my little family of misfits. Ivy’s taking a selfie with a scowling Waylon, though I don’t miss the wary happiness glittering in his eyes as he fights a smile.
He’s nervous, anxious, but also excited. It’s his first Pride. Not just out, but ever.
