other thing,” Trey says, keeping my
gaze locked on his. “Let’s meet up after school and do the
library again. I need to do some research for a term paper
anyway. Sound good?”
“Sure,” I say, my voice hollow. They’re talking about
me now. I stare at Trey, and he keeps talking. And then he
laughs, and I think it’s because Roxie just suggested Sawyer
was gay and having a secret relationship with Trey, and I
was acting as his beard. I can’t help it—I have to tune in.
Sawyer looks hard at Roxie for a long moment. And
then he says, “Yes, okay, I admit it. I’m gay, and I’m in love
with Trey.”
Roxie stares at him. “You are not.”
“You just said I was. And, well, it’s true.”
“I made out with a gay ?”
The immediate area goes silent. Heads turn, everybody looking to see who the newly outed gay guy is. I hate this. I glance at Trey, who seems to be enjoying this
immensely.
“Well, I’m not just any old gay , I’m Sawyer the gay.”
His lip twitches. “That’s what we call each other.”
“True story,” Trey adds. “But I rejected him.”
“He did, yes. Multiple times, in fact.”
“But he’s still very much in love with me, and I like
that, because it kind of feels like I have power over him.
It’s a form of torture, and it’s fun.”
Sawyer nods. Then he shakes his head. “Not fun for
me, I mean. For him.”
A few people around us start snickering.
Roxie’s face turns red. I think she figured out they’re
teasing her and sort of throwing her own actions in her
face, but she says through gritted teeth, “So are you gay
or not?”
Sawyer drops the shtick. “Really? You’re asking me
this?”
“Obviously.”
Sawyer gives her an incredulous look. “Okay, well,
then I . . . I am.”
Her eyes bulge. “Were you gay when we made out?”
Sawyer holds his straight face. “Not before, but
after . . . well, then I was.”
A few people laugh, and Roxie falters, and I feel
sorry for her. Not because she’s gullible. But because it
means so damn much to her to know if she made out
with a gay .
“Okay, that’s enough, guys,” I mutter.
The bell rings. People around us turn back to gather
their stuff. Trey squeezes my shoulder and slips away.
Roxie stomps off, and I stand there, looking across the
table at Sawyer, who is searching my face with his eyes.
And I don’t know what to say, except “I guess I’ll see you
at the library after school.”
He sighs and looks down at the table. “Yeah. Okay.”
I stand there a second more, and then I take my tray
away. I have to run to make it to class on time.
Twenty-Five
And here’s the thing. I hate that junk. I hate that
whole whatever you want to call it—the misunderstanding-slash-thing-between-us story line. It’s on every TV
show, in every book you read, every movie. Something
always happens to put this stupid wedge in the budding
relationship, and the people don’t talk about it so they just
keep being misunderstood, and by the end of the movie,
maybe it all works out and maybe it doesn’t, but I hate it
and I wish this kind of crap didn’t happen. Why can’t the
two lovers just be together? Why can’t the fucking plot of
the fucking story of everybody’s life just be like, hey, you
finally find the person you want to be with, and you just
be with them, and that part is the good part? And the
conflict is something else, like a crash and an explosion, or
a school shooting, but you’re just still together with that
person as a team and you both fight together against some
other enemy? Why does this have to happen? Because it’s
very clear to me that we just. Don’t. Need this. Right now.
“So, uh, that got a little out of hand,” Trey says when
he gets to our table in sculpting class. “Sorry about that.
It was all in fun.”
“I know.”
“Why are you being so quiet?”
“I’m not sure.”
He nods, and we sit there in silence for once, working side by side making a bowl
gaze locked on his. “Let’s meet up after school and do the
library again. I need to do some research for a term paper
anyway. Sound good?”
“Sure,” I say, my voice hollow. They’re talking about
me now. I stare at Trey, and he keeps talking. And then he
laughs, and I think it’s because Roxie just suggested Sawyer
was gay and having a secret relationship with Trey, and I
was acting as his beard. I can’t help it—I have to tune in.
Sawyer looks hard at Roxie for a long moment. And
then he says, “Yes, okay, I admit it. I’m gay, and I’m in love
with Trey.”
Roxie stares at him. “You are not.”
“You just said I was. And, well, it’s true.”
“I made out with a gay ?”
The immediate area goes silent. Heads turn, everybody looking to see who the newly outed gay guy is. I hate this. I glance at Trey, who seems to be enjoying this
immensely.
“Well, I’m not just any old gay , I’m Sawyer the gay.”
His lip twitches. “That’s what we call each other.”
“True story,” Trey adds. “But I rejected him.”
“He did, yes. Multiple times, in fact.”
“But he’s still very much in love with me, and I like
that, because it kind of feels like I have power over him.
It’s a form of torture, and it’s fun.”
Sawyer nods. Then he shakes his head. “Not fun for
me, I mean. For him.”
A few people around us start snickering.
Roxie’s face turns red. I think she figured out they’re
teasing her and sort of throwing her own actions in her
face, but she says through gritted teeth, “So are you gay
or not?”
Sawyer drops the shtick. “Really? You’re asking me
this?”
“Obviously.”
Sawyer gives her an incredulous look. “Okay, well,
then I . . . I am.”
Her eyes bulge. “Were you gay when we made out?”
Sawyer holds his straight face. “Not before, but
after . . . well, then I was.”
A few people laugh, and Roxie falters, and I feel
sorry for her. Not because she’s gullible. But because it
means so damn much to her to know if she made out
with a gay .
“Okay, that’s enough, guys,” I mutter.
The bell rings. People around us turn back to gather
their stuff. Trey squeezes my shoulder and slips away.
Roxie stomps off, and I stand there, looking across the
table at Sawyer, who is searching my face with his eyes.
And I don’t know what to say, except “I guess I’ll see you
at the library after school.”
He sighs and looks down at the table. “Yeah. Okay.”
I stand there a second more, and then I take my tray
away. I have to run to make it to class on time.
Twenty-Five
And here’s the thing. I hate that junk. I hate that
whole whatever you want to call it—the misunderstanding-slash-thing-between-us story line. It’s on every TV
show, in every book you read, every movie. Something
always happens to put this stupid wedge in the budding
relationship, and the people don’t talk about it so they just
keep being misunderstood, and by the end of the movie,
maybe it all works out and maybe it doesn’t, but I hate it
and I wish this kind of crap didn’t happen. Why can’t the
two lovers just be together? Why can’t the fucking plot of
the fucking story of everybody’s life just be like, hey, you
finally find the person you want to be with, and you just
be with them, and that part is the good part? And the
conflict is something else, like a crash and an explosion, or
a school shooting, but you’re just still together with that
person as a team and you both fight together against some
other enemy? Why does this have to happen? Because it’s
very clear to me that we just. Don’t. Need this. Right now.
“So, uh, that got a little out of hand,” Trey says when
he gets to our table in sculpting class. “Sorry about that.
It was all in fun.”
“I know.”
“Why are you being so quiet?”
“I’m not sure.”
He nods, and we sit there in silence for once, working side by side making a bowl
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