Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I lived for car rides to school.  I wouldn’t say I really cared for school, or loved showing up so early to school every day; but car rides meant dad time.  And nowadays it seemed like the only time I really got to spend with my dad anymore.

He didn’t mean to spend as little time with us as he did, it was his work.  The job he’d held the past few years.

He worked in Midtown, the nearest “big city”.  According to my dad, the only place someone with a degree in computer engineering could really make a living was in a bigger city, certainly not in Shadyshide—which was the type of town that had a “Main Street” which basically doubled as the “Only Major Street”.  It was nice because it meant we lived pretty comfortably—much more comfortably than we did when I was younger—but it also meant he had to drive an hour to work every day.  And an hour home every day.

The problem was, my mom liked Shadyside.  Her work was in Shadyside.  It meant we lived in Shadyside.  And it meant my dad commuted.

I mean, the fact that my dad went out of his way, made clear that he would not go into work in until 8:30 all so he could take me to school every day, it spoke to how hard he tried not to let his work affect us.

And honestly, my only complaint was that it meant I showed up at least 45 minutes early to school every day.  I got here every day at 7:30 AM.  Most people didn’t show up until 7:55.

School didn’t start until 8:15.

It worked well though.  Those 45 minutes seemed the only part of his day I truly had to myself, with how busy my days always went.  Plus, I used the time to practice.  Not to mention, I was pretty bad at showing up anywhere on time, so it was probably best that I was always here early.

I pushed the thought to the back of my mind as I turned his complete attention to my dad.  My dad was more important than basketball.

“Basketball tryouts today?”  My dad offered, I could tell he was trying to make conversation.

I couldn’t resist the smile that I found on my lips, I was excited, “It should be a good year.”

“You must be excited.” My dad beamed, he was as excited as I was, “It’ll be your first day to really test out your captain skills.”

I shrugged, “I guess.  The team’s basically decided.  At lot of guys didn’t promote to high school, so it’s not like there’s really spots for new people anyways.”

My dad nodded at that, he started to look away.  Clearly other things were on his mind, but he was trying to pay attention to me, “Are you going to do baseball too, this year?”

I had played baseball for Jefferson last year.  I liked it, I guess.  But not like I liked basketball.  And I needed to be ready for high school.

“Well uh…I was kind of thinking of putting all my energy in basketball this year.  If I play well here, it’ll be a lot easier to go straight to Varsity in high school.”

My dad smiled at that, a proud sort of smile that made me smile too.

“We’re here bud.” My father offered, his eyes forward pointedly on Jefferson Middle School.  He smiled again, setting a hand on my shoulder, “Have a good day.  I hope tryouts go well.”

I nodded eagerly, “It will.”

There’d been rumors all week. But I tried not to believe them.  It just didn’t make sense.

Not to mention, my friend Luke—who was dating a girl on the cross country team—mentioned that this girl wasn’t exactly the best at being a team player.

Not to mention the team dynamics would be all messed up if we had a girl.

There’d be no way she’d play as well as us.  It was genetics.

I told myself that as a pang of anxiety hit me.  She couldn’t be as good.

Not to mention, I wouldn’t let her beat out any of my friends.  We had the perfect squad well before this tryout even started, and I wouldn’t let some random girl who thought she was special ruin that.

Maybe that was why I felt a certain fulfillment in going just a bit harder on her than I did on the other’s that were trying out.  If she thought she was so good, obviously she wouldn’t find it hard to keep up, right?

I checked her midway through our scenario drills.  She fell flat on her back.

She looked at me with this…like disgust.  Surprised that I’d treat her just like any of the other players.

What?  That’s how boys’ basketball was.  A little tough.  I wouldn’t say I was preparing her for it—because she’d never make the team—but she at least was going to get a taste of our team in full force.

"That was a foul!" She shot at me, remaining on the floor like some helpless puppy.

Wow.  Day 1 and she was already complaining.

"This is a drill.” I scoffed, unimpressed by her so far, “There aren't any fouls in a drill."

"What is your problem?” She returned, as she finally stood up, “You're the captain. Is this how you treat your teammates?”

Of course not.  But she wasn’t a teammate.

I smirked at her as I finally dribbled away from her.  Honestly, arguing with her was starting to get boring, "You'll never know."

The list was out within a day of tryouts.  It was sort of nice having the relief of knowing my name was on the roster for once.

Not that I was necessarily concerned last year that I wouldn’t make the team, because even last year I knew I’d make it.  But the validation this year, of being made Captain as a 7^th grader, made me feel pretty good.

Like coach saw how hard I worked too.

Still, I did check the roster anyways, mostly to see who my teammates would be.

Plus, I took a picture of my name to send to my dad.

Me: Rosters out :) .  First name on the list.

Dad: 👍

It was at that point that I realized a certain name was on that roster.

Ugh, the girl.  She’d been every bit as into herself as I’d been told, and now I had to spend a whole season playing with her.

I don’t know, maybe I thought all the insults I threw at her during tryouts would stop her from staying with the team, but evidently she’d been a bit more stubborn than I hoped.

Thankfully, some of my teammates shared my feelings about her.  They weren’t really happy that we had a girl either.

Like seriously, why couldn’t she bother some other team?  Or join a girl’s team?

“Don’t worry.  She won’t last long.” I offered.  We all pretended not to talk about her, and I sort of hated that we even spent time worrying about her, but I knew we all sort of watched her in horror as she approached her friends.

The sound of their screeching was like chalk on a chalkboard.

“What are you doing?” I heard the sound of another one of her friends murmur as she began to approach us.  He tried out too, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t make it.

“I don’t think we were ever introduced.” She smiled this oddly proud smile, “Buffy, the new shooting guard.”

“Funny,” I smirked, squaring with her.  She was trying to establish her territory I could tell. “You look like the new benchwarmer.”

My teammates all sort of laughed at that as we started to walk away.

But the truth was, we all sort of knew it.  She had been sort of good, and with no one position really being set in stone yet, she had a real chance of taking our starting spots from us.

But damn, was I not going to let it be me.

Chapter Text

Mr. Coleman had pulled me aside for what felt like the fiftieth time this year.  He didn’t like how I was doing in math.

Honestly, I didn’t either.  But it honestly felt like there was nothing I could do anymore.  I was drowning.  And I was really behind on assignments.

This wasn’t the first time Mr. Coleman offered to help, he’d even helped me find a couple tutors, but none of them worked.  Math just kept getting harder, and to be honest I was sort of at the point where I didn’t even care.

Math was hard, so what?

It didn’t make sense.  I don’t know why we needed it anyways.

At some point I need to fix things.  I know that.  We only had a few weeks before the semester was over and my mom was going to kill me once my grades came out.  At this point I was hovering just above an F.  Like a percent above an F.

But hey, at least it wasn’t an F.

“I need you to stop by at the beginning of lunch,” Mr. Coleman warned, “I have a new tutor, hopefully…” he paused, sounding not quite sure of himself, “for you.”

I rolled my eyes at him, obviously this tutoring thing wasn’t working.  I don’t even know why he was still trying.

Probably because he actually cares.  And ‘cause we both know if I fail it means I can’t play basketball anymore.

I pushed the thought away.

“I don’t…think a new tutor is gonna’ make a difference,” I finally forced out, a sadness even I wasn’t expecting in my voice.

“Well, I’m optimistic about this one!” He smiled, setting a hand on my shoulder, “Just give it one more shot.” He paused as he looked to the next class coming in, “Anyways, you go off to class.  Remember, come back here right when lunch starts!”

I’d like to say I dragged my feet walking back to Mr. Coleman’s classroom, but to be honest, his room was by the stairs and my Earth Science class was directly above him on the floor above.  It took me all of 2 minutes, maybe, to make it back to his classroom.

"Oh...well as long as it isn't...” I recognized the voice immediately.  And the class was nearly empty by the time I walked in.

No. No.  Of all the people in this world that could have tutored me, the universe chose her?  She was going to hold this over me forever.

"Him?!” She whined.

"Her?” I grumbled, already beginning to walk out of the room, “I'm out.”

"Hey!  You don't have a choice.” Mr. Coleman interrupted, that same warning tone as this morning, “You fail this class and your off the team.” He turned to Buffy, suddenly desperate, “You don't want that do you?"

She forced a smile at him, “Only in my wildest dreams.”

Mr. Coleman sounded personally offended by this, “But he's your teammate?”

“And in his own wise words.”  She started, “Which he recently shared with me, that's not my problem.”

"This is how it is Buffy. You have to tutor me," I sneered, "I'm team captain."

"Sure, TJ.” She sneered, “Here's your first lesson. X times Y equals ain’t gonna happen."

"Well if I'm not on the team, then you,” I paused, trying to think of something witty to say, “ain’t gonna, win another game."

"If you don't pass me the ball,” she glared at me, “why should I help you pass a class?"

"Fine.” I scoffed, considering the agreement as I attempted to look anywhere but her.  I didn’t really want to pass her the ball, but I did need to pass math.  I’m sure I could tolerate her just long enough to start getting better grades.  Besides, I didn’t really have to actually pass her the ball, she just needed to think I was willing to.  For a moment my eyes landed on her scared looking friend.  I swallowed, forcing myself to say the words, “I'll pass you the ball.  Do we have a deal?"

"No.” She sounded so proud of herself, and I suddenly felt my anger bubble.  She pulled her friend into her arms, he looked as scared of her as he did of me.  He glanced up at me, almost like he was asking for help.  She smirked as she offered, “You get my friend Cyrus here a chocolate chocolate chip muffin.”

Something about the idea seemed humorous.  But not in a, I pitied him sort of way, more of a…awe that he was apparently that helpless.

He couldn’t be that helpless, could he?

Buffy may have been an annoying girl who was just trying to get her way, but this Cyrus he…I couldn’t be mean to her the way I was to him, could I?  Just because they were friends.

Buffy got my attitude because she deserved it.  This guy?  He just looked like he wanted to go back to hiding under whatever rock he came from.

I smirked at him, “You can't get your own muffin?”

“I didn't need this extra level of embarrassment.” He offered, but he was surprisingly honest, “But...no."

"Well I can do it.” I smiled.  Wow, maybe Buffy did need an attitude check.  This guy was supposed to be her friend, and it’s not like she was helping him get a muffin.

I’m going to pretend it had nothing to do with the fact that half of the team cut in line to get muffins every Tuesday.  She knew I could help him.

I don’t know why it was so important though.  It was just a stupid muffin.

Still, he seemed so helpless; I almost felt this need to help him not be so helpless.  My smile never broke, “But, teach a man to fish?”

I stood tall as I finally met eyes with him.  Ready to dole out my advice, “Walk to the muffin like you already own it.”

Buffy was quick to interrupt me, “He can't do that.”

Is it weird that I was annoyed with her for having so little faith in her own friend?  Immediately I returned, “Hey, don't tell him what he can't do.”

She almost looked impressed at that.

“Dancing with danger is on my bucket list.” He beamed.  Which made me smile again.  It felt kind of good helping this poor kid out.  He glanced up at me with this big eager eyes, “ Then what do I do?"

I shrugged, "Take the muffin."

“That's it?” He looked almost disappointed at the simplicity of it.

“Just don't let anybody stand in your way.” I assured him, pushing him forward as he tip toed towards the muffin stand.

He sort of glanced awkwardly between the muffin stand and the other students in line.

He immediately cowered the moment they all began to yell.

I didn’t think I’d be protecting some guy I didn’t even know today, but here I was.  I immediately went to join his side, bumping his shoulder to sort of prove we were in solidarity.

"Hey,” I warned the group in line, who still looked very annoyed, “he's with me."

"You're gonna taste so sweet." Cyrus beamed as he gazed lovingly at the muffin.

Funny.  It was almost cute.

The thought quickly passed as I let myself enjoy my small victory, approaching Buffy with a pride I honestly felt like I deserved.  I did something good today.

I smirked at her as I passed her, “I'm gonna need at least a C+.”

Chapter Text

212. 212. 212. Or was it 221? Maybe it was 121?

Dammit.

We practice 4 days a week, the Basketball Team.  We don’t practice on Wednesday’s.  And Buffy decided that was the best time to have our tutoring sessions.

Seeing how she was my tutor, I didn’t really have much of a choice.

She’d texted me 212.  I think.  I mean, it couldn’t be 121.  The first floor was English and Art.  Second Math and History. Third Science.  It had to be on the second floor.

Still, even as I looked down at my phone, it was all a blur.  The numbers just sort blended together.  But there as definitely a 2.

 “212.” I whispered to myself, deciding my best option was to just walk down the hallway of the Math wing of the school until I saw her.

10 minutes after I was supposed to meet her, though I wasn’t really sure how late I was—only that I knew I definitely was—I passed by what must have been the 12^th classroom in the hallway.

I glanced at the number placard.  And then I recognized a familiar head of very curly brown hair.

“Finally!” She whined.

“Sorry,” I scoffed, “Forgot the room number.”

That was true, wasn’t it?  I was always better with numbers out loud than when they were written down.

“And the time we were supposed to meet?”

I glanced up at the clock above the doorway.  The small hand was between the numbers 3 and 4.  The big hand at the 8.

That was 3:45 wasn’t it? I think we were supposed to meet at 3:30.

I rolled my eyes as I returned my attention to her, “I’m bad with numbers.”

“Stop with the lame excuses,” she accused, which honestly made me pretty upset.

I am bad with numbers.  I’ve always been bad with numbers.

“This isn’t gonna’ work if you’re not gonna’ take this seriously,” she continued, glaring at me like I was some misbehaving little kid as I sat down at the table closest to the SmartBoard.  I glared at her, which made her finally start to sound a little bit nicer, “Please don’t waste my time TJ.  Are you going to take this seriously?”

I needed to, I guess.  Feeling suddenly defeated, I finally sighed and let out a weak, “Yeah.”

“Then let’s get started,” she smirked, sounding so proud of herself as she stood up to approach the board, “Okay, first we’re gonna’ work on how to evaluate an expression with variables.”

Oh god, I wasn’t going to last.  She was just so…condescending.  And I hated math with numbers and letters.  It was the worst.  I groaned in my seat as I tried to listen to her.

We’d probably gotten 10 minutes into our tutoring session before I was going insane.  It was too hard, and I didn’t want to be here anyways.  I couldn’t stand her making it sound like all this was so easy.  And I didn’t like how quickly she was going through the problems.

“Okay, so x equals 2 in this equation, so what is y?” She smiled in this overly eager voice, which honestly annoyed me more than anything had before.

I shrugged, feeling myself start to shut down.

“Okkaayy.” She hesitated, “Y is 7.  Just give me the sum total.”

I shrugged again, honestly just feeling stupid now, “I don’t know.”

She sounded desperate now, “I really am trying to help you TJ, but I can’t if you won’t even answer basic questions.”

That’s the thing, they weren’t basic to me.  Feeling defeated I finally groaned, “I don’t know the answer, okay?”

“Okay,” she recoiled, “Let’s try some pre-algebra.”

What am I 5?

“Mr. Brown was grocery shopping—”

“How come someone’s always shopping in these problems?” I offered, honestly annoyed, and distracted by the complete and total stupidity that is math.

“Come up here and work it out.” She offered the pen to me.

“Nah, I can do it from here,” I sneered.  I mean, surely this problem couldn’t be that hard.

She stood over me as I attempted the problem.  But immediately the fractions threw me off.  Desperate, I wrote down a number, trying to save face at least a little.

I leaned back in my seat, defeated as I offered, “25” as an answer.

“How did you arrive at that answer?” She responded through gritted teeth.

“Is it right?” Was I right?

“No,” she shook her head.  I could tell she was getting annoyed with me, but honestly I was getting annoyed with her too.

“Then who cares how I got it?”

“Because it helps to know your thought process.”

“I guessed." I sighed, "Does that help?”

“TJ, if you don’t know the answer, that’s fine.” She sounded legitimately concerned now, “But you have to be honest with me.  Do any of these types of problems even look familiar to you?”

“Sure, I’ve seen them before,” I returned sarcastically, “Couldn’t do them then, and I can’t do them now.”

“Maybe, you need to do some warm up exercises.  Like basketball!” She offered, suddenly getting excited, “You have a better chance of making a tough basket if you warmed up.”

What type of person did she think I was, all I was good at was basketball?  Some stupid stereotypical jock?

“Seriously? You’re gonna’ use basketball analogies?  Like you think that’s the only thing I’ll understand.”

“Hey, you know what really helps me,” she suddenly grinned, running towards the board again, “The multiplication tables!  And you gotta’ try this board, it’s super fun.”

I had to give her credit, she was trying really hard to be patient and nice, but honestly it was just annoying me more.  Making me feel even stupider than I already felt.

“Pass,” I looked towards my notebook, so so done with this tutoring session.

“Fine, use paper if you want.” Buffy’s smile fell.  I pulled my notebook towards me.  But honestly, I didn’t even know where to start.

It took me all of 2 seconds before I gave up.

She got concerned again, “You do know the multiplication tables, right?”

“You think I’m stupid?”

She looked taken back by that, “I never said that.”  

“Well, I am.” I bit back, done with this.  With this stupid tutoring.  With math.  With her.

I didn’t really know where I was going when I ran off.  Only that I needed to get out of the school.  I just sort of started walking and walking.  I ended up at the park right around the corner of the school.

I’d been to the park before, to play basketball and stuff, but I didn’t really feel like basketball right now.  So I decided to just walk.  To clear my head.

I hadn’t gotten very far when I spotted the muffin boy, the one from the cafeteria last week.  He was swinging on the swings.

By himself.

I’m not really sure what possessed me to do it, maybe it was seeing a familiar face, but before I could really consider what I was doing, I approached the swings.

I set my bag down on the rocks nearby as I finished the last few steps to approach him.

I could hear him singing.

“Leg’s go up, leg’s go down.  That’s how we make the swing go ‘round.  Guide your feet, you go slow.  The more you drag, the less you go.”

“Nice song,” I offered, as I leaned against the frame of the swings.

He stopped in his tracks.  Looking embarrassed and scared.

Without missing a beat, I continued. “What do you sing when your on the slide?”

Without skipping a beat, he returned, “We go down, we say yay.  We don’t climb up, that’s the wrong way.”

I chuckled at that.  Something about his total willingness to be himself was sort of endearing; I found myself smiling,  “Huh, did not expect you to have a song for that.”

Muffin Boy smiled at me.

“Chocolate-Chocolate Chip Muffin, right?” My voice got soft, for a moment I sort of forgot where I was when he smiled.  I could feel myself smiling though.

“Scary Basketball Guy.” He pointed, almost humored by it.  But certainly not scared by me anymore.  That was good.  I wasn’t scary.

“Actually,” I began to stand taller, a bit annoyed that that’s the reputation I guess I had now, “TJ.”

“I know,” Muffin Boy nodded. Pointing a finger to himself, “Cyrus.”

Cyrus.  I glanced around, nobody was really around this time of day.  Something about this dorky kid calmed me in a way I couldn’t describe.  I approached the swings, almost self-consciously—Lester and Reed would never let me live it down if they knew I was playing on the swings, like some little kid.

But I wasn’t swinging, not really.  Just trying to sit and have a chat with this boy who seemed so comfortably himself.

“Soo…you, hang out here a lot?” I leaned against the chain of the swing, almost hugging it.  I don’t know why I kept leaning against things, but I couldn’t stop it.

“Only when I’m feeling bad about myself, so…fairly often.”

My heart dropped at that.  What did he have to feel bad about?

“Hm,” I guess he understood how I felt in a way, at least, “Does it help?”

Cyrus shrugged, a small smile on his face, “Helps me.” I turned to look at the swing, and he offered, “Go on, you look like you need it.”

I sat down and immediately started to swing.  The rush of the wind, the meaningless of it all, the anger and frustration I felt earlier today started to disappear.

“Wow,” I smiled, swinging higher and higher, “This does kind of make me feel better.”

“What do you need to feel better about?  You’re the Captain of the Basketball Team!”

That didn’t mean anything.  But what did he know? He couldn’t know.  Not that that was really his fault.

“You don’t know me,” I sighed, “I got stuff.”

“Betcha’ I got more stuff.” He offered, though he sounded oddly happy about it.

“Yeah?” I chuckled, feeling so at peace with the world for a moment, “Betcha’ I can swing higher.”

“I’m afraid to swing high.  It’s a part of my stuff.”

That was funny.  I chuckled at that, as I continued to swing as high as the swingset would take me.  I loved feeling so high in the air, so free.  I couldn’t stop laughing,  “I don’t know why I ever stopped swinging! C’mon get up here.”

“This is as high as I go.” Cyrus offered, honestly looking a bit worried now.

I let out a quiet scream as I jumped off the swing from the highest point I could muster.  Like an expert, I easily landed on both feet, quickly approaching Cyrus.  Without really thinking about it, I pushed him a few times.  He let out a scream with each push.

With all my might, I pushed him as hard as I could, before running under his legs, yelling, “Underdog” as I ran to quickly escape his feet before he came back down.

“Woah,” Cyrus beamed, as I continued to push him, this time from the front, “That was exhilarating.”

“You want another one?” I offered, now beaming at him.  I'd never felt so relaxed, so free.  It was nice just...playing for the sake of playing for once.

“No thank you,” Cyrus pleaded, though I could tell he was smiling.

“Hm,” I pouted, a playfulness in my tone, “Too bad.”

I chuckled as I rushed to push him from behind again.  He screamed excitedly again.

That was when I heard her voice.  I’m not even really sure where she came from.

“Cyrus!  Are you okay?”

I froze in my tracks.  I’d felt like I’d been caught.  Not that I was doing anything wrong.  I gripped onto the chain swing, to slow the swing down, not even realizing I sort of grabbed his hand sort of aggressively in the process.

If he noticed, he hadn’t said anything.

“Uh,” I stammered, letting go of the swing altogether, already starting to walk away.  Hopefully Buffy hadn’t seen me, “I gotta’ go.”

She sprinted towards me.  And Cyrus, who was probably ready to defend her, jumped of the swing to stop me.

“No, TJ.  You don’t have to.  Buffy, she’s really cool.”

“Yeah, no.” I sighed, suddenly annoyed by someone as nice as Cyrus was friends with someone as annoying as Buffy.  I glanced at him, like I knew I might not ever see him again.  I hoped not.  I felt really safe and comfortable around him.  I don’t remember the last time anyone made me feel that safe—except like my mom, I guess, “But…thanks for reminding me about swinging.  That helped.”

He didn’t say anything for a second as he just sort of smiled at me.

I smiled back.

The moment passed quickly as I hurriedly attempted to walk away before Buffy fully caught up with me.

“Hold up a sec!”  She stopped as she got within feet of me, “Did you get my text?”

Annoyed, I pulled out my phone to see that she had in fact texted me.  And angrily, I groaned, “Yeah.”

“Cyrus, can you give us the playground?”

“Yeah, you know where to find me,” Cyrus offered, turning towards me, this confidence in him that sort of surprised me.  It was then that I noticed such a warmness in his eyes.  They were brown, like the color of the muffin he'd liked so much. “And so do you.”

I knew what meant too.  I felt sort of honored that he invited me to the swings.  His safe place.  My safe place now, too I guess.  Like he was telling me he, even after only knowing me for 5 minutes, he was willing to be a listening ear.

It made me feel special.  I couldn’t help the smile that found it’s way on my lips.

I was almost sad to see him go, but I pushed the thought away as I returned my attentions to Buffy.

“So what’s the big news you just had to tell me,” I scoffed, fitting my bag to my back.

“So I did some research, and I found something.  You may have a problem with numbers.”

“You had to research that,” I scoffed again.

“No, I mean…I think you have a learning disability,” She started, but it immediately set me off.  She was calling me like clinically stupid basically.  Still, I felt more embarrassed than angry. She was probably right.  But like that, my good mood had already disappeared, “It’s like dyslexia but with numbers.  I know it sounds bad, but it’s actually good news.”

“What’s so good about it?”

“You can learn math. You’re just wired differently.  The first step is to get you tested. We have to talk to Mr. Coleman.”

“No, we don’t have to do anything." I recoiled, genuinely angry now.  What did she know? "And stop web diagnosing my issues.”

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to help you.”

“Well...you’re not.  And don’t tell people I have a learning disability….I-I’d rather they just think I’m stupid.”

Chapter Text

“Hey,” I hated that I sounded so insecure, but the truth was, math wasn’t getting any easier and with Buffy being the only person that had a general idea of what was going on, I was starting to get desperate, “I need to talk to you about my…math thing.”

“I’m happy you want to deal with this.” She forced a smile, “But the real person you should be talking to is Mr. Coleman.”

“Absolutely, I’m gonna’ do that.” I didn’t know when, but I probably would, “But in the mean time,” I swung my backpack, to grab my homework, which I’d ‘conveniently’ left at the top of my bag in the off chance I saw her, “I need someone to do my math homework.”

She looked around, confused, “Me?”

“You are my tutor.”

She looked offended at that, “That doesn’t mean I’m going to cheat for you.”

“It’s not cheating it’s,” he paused, trying somehow to turn this into something that wasn’t questionable, “Helping a teammate stay on the team.”

“I have a moral code.”

Of course she did, people high and mighty like her always did.

I scoffed at her, “People cheat all the time.”

“People without codes.” She returned, already beginning to stomp off, “Codeless people.”

Well that was unsuccessful.  Though, I didn’t really have a chance to consider it much as a classmate, Riley from my English class, approached me.

We were always cordial during class, but I don’t know if I’d call him my friend.

“Hey TJ,” Riley offered.

“Hey Riley,” I smiled.

“So…I have a favor to ask…” he hesitated.

Oh gosh, I guess the day was a favor asking type of day.  I figured I might as well hear him out, “What’s up?”

“So, you know how you sit next to Ella?”

“Yeah…?”

“I uh…”

He liked Bella.  I didn’t really blame him.  She was pretty and really nice.

“What do you want, Riley?”

He sounded nervous, probably afraid I wouldn't agree with whatever his plan was.  I mean, I probably wouldn't, I didn't much care for helping people out when it came to stuff like that, but I still listened to him anyways, “I was wondering the next time…there’s uh...there's a group project you ask me to join your group.”

That was all under the assumption that Bella even wanted to be in a group project with me.

I guess it didn’t really do me much harm to agree to involve him, it wouldn’t be my fault if she left to go join another group.

“Uh…sure? I guess.”

“Awesome, thanks dude!”

“Hey!  Not so scary basketball guy!” A voice called out to me.  I’m not really sure why, but I knew it was aimed towards me.  Plus, I was sort of done with Riley trying to use me.

Did that make me a hypocrite?

I mean I actually needed help.  He just liked a girl.

I forced a smile at Riley as I turned towards the voice.  I don’t even think I said goodbye to Riley, I just sort of walked away as I turned towards Cyrus.

I mean, who else would call me ‘Not So Scary Basketball Guy’?

I hadn’t really seen him or talked to him since I saw him at the Swingset's last week.  But it was nice to see him again.

“Heeyy,” I smiled as I started to walk towards him, returning his nickname with one of my own, kind of proud of myself that I came up with something so quickly, “Underdog. What’s up?”

“Well, I know it’s kind of last minute.” Cyrus immediately replied, obviously eager over something, “But if I can get an R-S-V-P A-S-A-P, I think I can get you into my Bar-Mitzvah Par-ty.”

I glanced down at the invite.  I hadn’t even opened it yet.  But I knew my answer pretty much immediately.  I smiled at him, “I’m there.”

Was that weird?  That I knew this guy from one interaction—or I guess two now—and I was excited about the idea of being invited to a birthday party?

I guess he really was that nice.  Like the type of person people wanted to say yes to.

He smiled at me.  It was then that I realized he might actually be able to help me with Buffy.

“Hey, uh, can I ask you something about Buffy?”

Cyrus seemed eager to help.  Yeah, I guess he was nice, “Sure.”

“Is she always so,” how could I describe her without angering her friend in the process, “high and mighty?”

To my surprise, Cyrus shrugged at me, nonchalant, “Pretty much.”

“Let’s say I need to get her to do something for me.” I hesitated, “How would I go about doing that?”

“Easy,” he smiled, “just use her two favorite words.”

“I’m sorry?”  Yeah, that seemed like something she probably liked to hear.

“No,” his eyes got wide, concerned, “she hates those words.”

“Then, what?”

“Come with me,” he began to walk, and immediately, I followed, “You might not like saying this, but Buffy will love hearing it.”

“What?”

“You’re right.”

“Huh?”

“Tell her that she’s right.  I’ve gotten out of many a fight with Buffy by just giving up.” He paused, evidently trying to save face, “I promise you, she’s more endearing than she sounds.  She’s really nice, she just uh…she’s very determined.”

“What, determined to be right?”

“Well, in her defense." He considered, "She’s rarely ever wrong.  To be honest, it's kind of annoying sometimes.”

I rolled my eyes at him, before smirking at his last comment.

He tilted his head at me, curious, “What do you need her to do for you, anyways?”

“Uh, it’s nothing.  Basketball related.”

He got quiet, at that, “Oh.”

“That was uh…” I forced the conversation to continue, finding that it got suddenly quiet between us.  I felt awkward, and honestly I didn’t like it, “…it was cool hanging out for a minute last week.  You’re cool.”

He looked both shocked and pleased at this assessment of him, “I am?”

“Did…should I get your number?” I coughed, realizing that the bell for school would start any minute.  I really never saw him around school, so I doubted I’d see him again, “In case I can’t find where your birthday party is?”

He sort of stopped walking completely, looking sort of nervous, “I mean…yeah.  If that’s what you wanted, that’s uh…that’s cool with me.”

“Cool.” I smiled, handing him my phone, as he handed me mine.

Without even really thinking I saved my name as ‘Not So Scary Basketball Guy🏀’. 

I thought it was funny.  He quickly handed me back my phone.

Evidently he thought similarly, as he put the name ‘Underdog’ on mine.

We sort of chuckled at each other.

We had the same sense of humor.

“It’s, wrinkly.  Why is it wrinkly?  I never wear it!”  I’d been scrambling for the past hour.

First I couldn’t find my suit—which my mom apparently left in her closet for safe keeping, something she didn't bother informing me of until she saw me tear the house apart for nearly 45 minutes—and then when I found the button-up that matched with my suit, it was in the back of my closet barely hanging on it’s hanger.

And it was wrinkly.

My sister, Billie, chuckled at me from what sounded like the middle of the room.

As I walked out of my closet she couldn’t hide her smirk as she stared me down, pretty humored that I was as annoyed as I was.

“You look like an idiot,” she chuckled.

I glanced down at myself.  I guess I did look kind of dumb wearing my dress pants with no shirt,

“Yeah," I spat at her, "well who asked you?”

“Dang, there must be one heck of a girl at this party.” She paused, “Seriously, calm the heck down, dude.  You’re being an annoying a-hole, yelling at everybody ‘cause you can’t find your clothes.”

“Why do you think there’s a girl?” I glared at her.

“Because you’re freaking out about getting ready,” she rolled her eyes.

“It’s not that…it’s just…I thought it would be set out already.  So I thought I’d have more time to get ready.  And now I’m gonna’ be late.  I hate being late…”

“You’re literally always late.”

I whined, getting quiet, “I don’t like it.  I don't like being late all the time.  I can't help it.”

“Here,” she snatched the shirt out of my hand, “Let me iron it.”

I suddenly felt guilty, “You don’t have to.”

“Oh just shut up and let me do something nice for you for once,” she paused, “I’ll even take you  to the party too.”

“There’s no girl!” I immediately shot at her.  My sister always had other motives.

“K, fine there’s no girl,” she smirked, “Honestly, I just need an excuse to get out of the house.  Take you to the party, run some errands for mom, maybe sneak a hang out with Luis while I wait to pick you up.”

“I thought mom and dad didn’t like that you were hanging out with him after the whole…'sneaking in' thing.”

She rolled her eyes at me, “The one and only time I ever sneak out, of course I get caught,” she pointed a hanger at me, “I still don’t believe you that you didn’t snitch.”

“I don’t snitch." I stood tall, "You have enough on me, that I’d never snitch.”

She snickered at that, “You right.”

Chapter Text

It finally happened.

It’s not really that Buffy hadn’t been able to help.  We sort of figured out that I worked better when the problem is broken down into several short sections.

But still, I was getting my homework done at a snails pace, and with us only meeting twice since our horrible first session, we’d barely improved.

Yeah, I’d gotten Buffy to sort of improve my homework scores.

But when I’d gotten yet another F on an exam, and my grade finally really dipped to a solid F in the class, Mr. Coleman had to put his foot down.

He’d told Coach Purcell, and that was that.  Coach couldn’t do anything.  I’d been benched until my grades started to improve.

And at this point, we didn’t have another game until January—‘cause of Christmas Break—so this was going to feel like forever.

I don’t know if I was more embarrassed that I’d been benched as the Captain, or that I wasn’t willing to admit why I’d been benched.

I didn’t really answer when anybody asked, but I was starting to get the impression that people thought I’d been suspended or something.

Of all the stupid stuff I’d ever done in my life, I don’t think I’d ever done so bad as to actually get suspended.

Or at the very least, I did all my stupid things off campus.

With a week left before school got out for Christmas break, I had two options.

Come clean to my mom now about the fact that this semester I was definitely getting an F in this class, or wait until grades came out.

Don’t get me wrong, my dad would be disappointed and probably take something away—like my phone—but my mom yelling at me sounded like the much scarier of the two options.

Thankfully, everyone in my family seemed to be busy today so at least I didn’t have to explain why I wasn’t playing today.

What’s worse is that Coach Purcell didn’t even let me dress out or sit on the bench.

I had to watch in the stands like everybody else.

Frustratingly, Buffy was doing pretty well.  It honestly felt like a bit of a betrayal, the team passing to her like we hadn’t all made a pact not to if we could help it.

Okay, to be fair it was mostly me, Connor, and Jack that made the agreement, but still.

I was so busy glaring at the court that I didn’t notice a body approach me.

Sensing that somebody was trying to talk to me, I glanced up to notice Cyrus was facing me, still standing in the stands.

He sounded concerned, “You’re not playing?”

No, duh.  I rolled my eyes at him, “Nothing gets past you.”

“I’m not here as a punching bag,” He affirmed, surprising me by being surprisingly resolute.  For being that permanently scared guy as early as a month ago, that wasn’t who I was looking at now, “I’m here to see if you’re okay.”

I suppose at any other time I might appreciate someone caring about me, but honestly I was so frustrated with everything, all it did was annoy me.  Mustering all the sarcasm I could, I snapped at him, “How about you’re not here at all.”

I didn’t really say anything else as I walked away.  I sort of stared at Buffy for a second, my frustration bubbling.

How did she manage to get her way out of all of this?  How was I the one being punished?

Like she couldn’t just take basketball from me, she had to hold it over me that she was smarter too.

In a huff, I finally exited the gym.

I wasn’t really sure where I was going, considering I also wanted to stay relatively close to the game.

I bided my time as I considered this, pulling a couple bills out of my pocket.  I guess I could at least get a snack while I figured out my game plan.

I pretended not to notice that the door opened next to me, and that I was fairly sure Cyrus had followed me—but when he stood next to me at the vending machine, I knew he had fully intended to speak to me.

What could he possibly say?

With an absolute confidence I fully expected out of him at this point, he started, “Eating your feelings? I do that.”

I rolled my eyes at him, moving away from his side as I sat down at the table closest to me.

He seemed to follow.

I know I haven’t really interacted with him much, a few times maybe, but with him going out of his way to make sure I’m okay, I guess I could admit to myself that I appreciated it.

Why was he so nice?

And what did I do to deserve it?

People like him didn’t really exist.  I didn’t know anyone genuinely nice to everyone they met.

But then, glancing at this sweet sort of dorky guy sitting in front of me, looking completely content with waiting until I spoke, I guess I had to admit it was true.

And for that reason, I started to trust him.

“Think they’ll win without me?”  Wow, I sounded so insecure.

He didn't seem to notice.  And without missing a beat, and sounding almost proud of himself, he shrugged, “I…I don’t even know who they’re playing.”

“The Raptors,” I returned. Suddenly angry again when I remembered they were one of the best teams in our district, “I should be in that game.”

Pointedly, he returned with, “Why aren’t you?”

I guess I had to tell him.  I was the one who brought it up.

I ripped off the band-aid, “Cause I’m failing math.”  I was getting upset over it again, “They won’t let me play basketball, because I can’t do some stupid equations.  How are those things even related?”

Either he didn’t know, or he didn’t care that Buffy was my tutor, in either case, he offered, “Maybe you should get a different tutor.”

To be fair, it wasn’t really Buffy’s fault I was still failing, it was mine.

Maybe that was why I sighed at him, “What I need is a different brain.”

Cyrus furrowed his brows, as if the suggestion was ridiculous, “What’s wrong with yours?”

“It…” I paused, I guess I could trust him.  He’d been nothing but honest with me since the beginning, not to mention he gave me the impression that he would genuinely care but not judge, “doesn’t work.  There’s a malfunction.  I might have this…math dyslexia.”

Without skipping a beat, he reasoned, “Dyscalculia.”

“Buffy’s the one who figured it out,” I groaned, “She’s been bugging me to talk to Coleman.  Constantly on my back about it.”

Cyrus shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal that I was clearly broken, “It’s pretty common.  Not worth replacing your brain.”

He clearly didn’t understand, “Dude, it’s a…” I paused, suddenly self-conscious as a couple walked through the gym doors and towards the hallway.  I didn’t want them to hear me, and I especially didn’t want my disability spread around for the whole school to know.  And knowing this school, news would spread fast.  I waited until they passed, “learning disability.  I don’t wanna’ go around announcing it.”

“Dude,” he repeated my tone, this time pretending to whisper to emphasize his point, “that’s an overused buzzword.”  He paused, as he made sure to get my attention long enough for me to realize he was trying to make eye contact with me.  His voice got sort of quiet, “There is nothing wrong with you.” He paused, “And your teacher can’t fail you for having it.”

Wait?  If it was a learning disability, it wasn’t my fault, was it?  He can’t fail me for something I can’t control.  I felt myself light up, “Coleman can’t fail me.”

Cyrus reinforced his message, “You could be playing basketball.  Right now.”

I let myself feel the relief of the moment for a second before I realized Buffy was right.  She’d been right, “And Buffy’s been right all along,” I paused, considering what got me into this whole situation in the first place, “At least I’ll mean it this time when I tell her she’s right.” I chuckled at him, “That really is her favorite thing to hear.”

He suddenly looked guilty, “I shouldn’t have told you about that.” He paused, looking concerned, “She’d kill me if she ever found out.”

I shrugged.  Cyrus didn’t deserve her anger considering I was the one being questionable, “Ah, don’t worry.  She won’t find out.”  I considered that for the first time I found out about my learning disability, I actually almost felt better, “And she may have been right, but you’re the one who really helped me.”

He smiled at that, a softness in his eyes.  For the first time since I met him, I realized just how warm they were, and brown.

As I opened my bag of chips, supposing I might as well ‘eat my feelings’ like he said he did, I offered him one, “Cheese puff?”

He held out his hand to me, “Sure,”

“So…” I attempted to continue, “You’re really here just to support Buffy?  You don’t even really know basketball?”

He shook his head, “Nope.”

“I guess Buffy’s lucky she has such supportive friends,” I paused, “Most of my friends are on the team…I don’t…really get people coming for me.”

He furrowed his brow.  I love that he always had this look of genuine concern on his face.  It made me feel special. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

I hesitated, “I guess you’re right.  Sometimes my friend’s come and watch.  But…only when they have time.”

“And when you make it back on the team, I can support two people on the team.” He smiled, sounding so proud of himself.  I felt myself blushing, I felt so important.  Cyrus must not have noticed, because he continued, “I’ve been told I’m like the ultimate fan.”

I chuckled at that, “What does that even mean?”

“Oh, like when Andi and Jonah were playing on the Ultimate Team I brought a vest to every game.”

I smirked at that.  Not to mention I have no idea what that meant, “A vest?”

“A vest, with anything an athlete could possibly need.  Sunscreen, water, band-aids, tape…”

“Wow,” I chuckled, “I guess you do come prepared.”

“I am nothing if not supportive.”

I smiled, “I guess it’s good that I have you on my side then.”

It all sort of happened pretty quickly.

I’m not really sure what motivated me to suddenly be honest with everybody.

That being said, I know I didn’t handle my conversation with Buffy well.  I did have to tell Mr.Coleman why it suddenly appeared as if I knew how to do math if I’d been struggling with Dyscalculia for so long.  For that I felt sort of guilty getting her in trouble, considering I'm the one who manipulated her.  But I certainly shouldn’t have approached her with the attitude I did. 

I don’t know, maybe it was her accusing me of lying and manipulating her—when I was honestly just trying to warn her that she might get in trouble—that set me off.

I was trying to change.  Or…at the very least I was trying to be nicer.

Buffy had been patient and helpful the entire time she tried to tutor me.  She didn’t exactly deserve my attitude.  It wasn’t exactly her fault that I found her annoying.

Like she wasn’t doing it on purpose.  I was just like…annoyed with her existence.

My sister would say the word for that was jealousy—and she had, that one time I’d let slip how I was treating Buffy—but what did she know?

Still, I knew I was in trouble the second I told Buffy she was right.  But I couldn’t stop myself.  She was being high and mighty again.  We were fine, cordial maybe, up until then.

I knew I’d messed up the second she had this look of realization on her face.  She walked way, definitely still angry with me, but that fire in her eyes—she was mad at someone else too.

Oh no.  I’d definitely just gotten Cyrus in trouble.

I figured as much, when I texted him about a day after my confrontation with Buffy.

At first he didn’t respond.

Then about 6 hours later he sent a simple text.

Underdog: I shouldn’t talk to you anymore.

I almost asked why.  But I’d angered his best friend, I’m sure she told him he shouldn’t talk to me.

What surprised me, was that evidently their friendship was so strong and he seemed just scared enough of her, he’d probably listen.

I wish how I treated his best friend didn't matter, but I knew it would.  If I felt bad about anything, it was that I messed things up with Cyrus after I promised he wouldn't get in trouble.

Not to mention, we'd just sort of established this real friendship, I'd found someone so cool—someone I felt like I could trust and be myself around—and I didn't like the thought of losing it so quickly.

Yes, that sucked, but what sucked more was my mom’s face when I told her I was going to get an F in math.

“If you were struggling that much, why didn’t you say something?” She attempted to remain calm as she distracted herself with the food that was currently cooking in the microwave.  I'm not kidding, she literally stared at it spin in the microwave, all so she wouldn't have to look at me.

“I…I thought I could handle it…I thought I’d get better.”

“I’m assuming you didn’t?” She scoffed.

“That’s…not exactly what I wanted to tell you,” I sighed, “I mean, it is.  But uh…”

She sighed, that quiet sigh that meant she was holding in her anger, “What, Theloneus?”

I cringed.  Crap, she was mad.  It was like an unsaid rule in our house that I exclusively went by TJ.  She only ever called me by my actual first name when she was angry.

“I talked to Mr. Coleman, and we both think I have this…dyslexia, but with numbers.  Dyscalculia.  I guess…it…it makes math really hard ‘cause numbers don’t…don’t make sense to me the way they’re supposed to.”

Her eyes widened.  I guessed she was looking back on my last 13 years of life for signs.

She considered her words, “So you failed math because you actually can’t do math?”

“Yeah…”

She started to get angry again, “And your teacher is failing you anyways?”

I cringed, “Well…not exactly.  I guess, what Mr. Coleman told me is that I have to make up that semester in summer school, so it’s not really an F…more like a reason to give me the extra class.  Like an Incomplete, he said.”  I mean, it sucked that I had to do summer school at all, but I guess I did need to retain that information eventually.

Not to mention, it was basically the only way Mr. Coleman wasn’t failing me in the class as a whole.

On the bright side, Mr. Coleman was my tutor now.  And he said next semester he was bringing in a specialist, somebody who worked with other people with dyscalculia, and that I’d notice the difference.  He basically guaranteed I'd do better in class.

He kept saying something like, everyone goes at their own pace, and that there was nothing wrong with going at the pace I was going.

I immediately thought about Cyrus saying basically the same thing.  I think I was starting to believe it.

My mom let out a tired sigh, “Alright.”

“I’m…sorry I didn’t say anything earlier about not doing so hot in math.  I…I guess I thought I could handle it.”

She frowned at that, “Honey.  If you’re overwhelmed…it’s like trying to wade in the ocean without a life vest.  I’m the lifevest.  I’d rather you admit you’re overwhelmed than to hear about you drowning.”

“Going a little hard with the metaphor there aren’t you?” I was proud of my comeback, but she glared at me.

“I’m serious, TJ.  Admit when you’re struggling before it overwhelms you…that way I can help,” she smiled, “Or yell at teachers for you.”

I smiled at her, starting to feel a weight lifted off my chest.

“However,” her stern voice returned.

“What?”

“You’re still grounded for not telling me about you failing until it was too late.  And you’re going to be the one that tells your dad that you failed.”

I whined, “I don’t want to tell dad.  How do you tell a math wizard his son is bad at math?”

“You’re not bad at math,” my mom glared at me, “You just weren’t getting taught math in a way that made sense for you.”

I hesitated for a long second, before grimacing, “But still grounded?”

“Still very much grounded.”

I sighed, “What’s the punishment?”

“Hm," she considered it, "I’m thinking no computer or TV the first week of break.”

That was fair, I guess.  Now was the time for negotiations though, “Can I go hang out with friends?”

She considered this, “Actually, I think I have the perfect punishment for you.”

“What?”

“You can help your Aunt out at Jackson Street.”

I didn't say anything, hoping she'd change her mind.

I’m not saying I hated Jackson Street, but I didn’t really like the idea of having to be there.

“Yes,” my mom beamed, “I’ll call your Aunt.  She mentioned she needed some help, and it-it’ll teach you responsibility.”

“Ugh.”

“Would you rather work with kids all day or stay at home not being allowed to do anything other than read?”

I groaned, “I guess I’ll go to Jackson Street.”

Chapter Text

Only my mom would even think to use fitness as a punishment.  If she knew one thing about me, it's that I was naturally athletic.  And as a result, somehow all of my punishments always revolved around this fact. 

Either she was taking away a sport from me—or she was making me do some sort of manual labor.

That was my only real explanation as to why my mom decided sending me to Jackson Street Gym was a good punishment.  Not to mention my mom—who was fairly motivated to keep me out of trouble—wouldn't exactly be home all break to make sure I was behaving.  Therefore she decided putting me to work with her sister was the perfect way to keep me supervised.

Unfortunately for me, I guess I did a good job after only one day, because suddenly my mom started "hinting" that going to Jackson Street would be an everyday thing for me.

I gotta' say, looking back, having other people supervise me at all times may have been her motivation for putting me into every sport ever when I was little.

And I mean every sport.

I just can't believe she was basically ordering me to spend the entirety of my 3 week Christmas Break at Jackson Street.  It didn't even match my crime, really.

On the bright side, my aunt said she would pay me like $50 a week for my troubles, so I was going to actually make decent money out of it.

And when I wasn't at Jackson Street I was at practice.  There were plans to have practice a couple times a week during Break—something that Coach Purcell said I was allowed to participate in after talking to Mr. Coleman—so all around, only a few days into my break, and already I was staying pretty busy during the day.

Not that I could have hung out if my friends even if all the stars aligned.  Reed's family was in Hawaii until basically New Years.  And Lester lived in the middle of nowhere on the outskirts of town.  His parents were just as busy as mine were, and neither of us had vehicles that would make traveling to each other worth it.

Not to mention, my mom explicitly said that as long as I was grounded, I could only hang out with them if they came over to my house.

And neither Lester nor Reed would ever do that.

I didn't really blame them.  My mom could be sort of scary.

I tried not to think too much on the fact that I knew I'd barely see my friends over the course of the next few weeks. 

I'd have to go day to day or I was going to go insane.

Not that I already wasn't going insane considering how colossally busy I'm going to end up being, and how much everyone in my family seemed intent on keeping it that way.  I guess I had to give them credit for "caring" at least.

My dad, for example, had decided to help my with my dyscalculia issue.  And every night after work since he found out, he sits down with me at the kitchen table and we go over basic math. 

He's learning my learning style, and I genuinely appreciate the time he 's taking—even though we're both pretty much frustrated by the end of every session.  I hated that he decided this was an every day thing—especially during Winter Break of all times, but I understood why.  I think he felt guilty that he'd "let me fall through the cracks" or something.

Not to mention—per my father's usual response to particularly stressful days—after particularly hard math sessions my dad would put on jazz music and ask me to help him make pastries.

It was sort of his thing when he was stressed.  Baking and playing jazz music.  I didn't mind.  The house would get filled with music and the smell of sugar.

Plus, it was cool getting to de-stress together.  I'm pretty sure his jazz playlist consisted of like 10 different playlists at this point; it was ever-growing, and honestly I think he just wanted an excuse to get me as exposed to the genre as possible.

Last night, the first of our really hard and stressful sessions—though I was certain it wouldn't be the last—he got really frustrated.

Naturally, he needed his coping mechanism: he immediately put on his Thelonius Monk playlist.

He claims Thelonius Monk is his favorite jazz artist—I mean he named a whole child after him.  But I’m fairly certain he played that particular playlist last night because he was annoyed with me.

If it was up to me, I’d play any sort of vocal jazz. Something I could sing along to, and he knew it.

He always insisted on the more acoustic jazz, because it was 'purer' or something.

Music was the way our house communicated.  How we gave affection to each other, how we conveyed our emotions, how we expressed our anger.  Rarely did our fights ever really consist of words—and if it did, someone was always eventually in their room blasting music.  And as far as fighting over playlists, it depended on who wanted it more.

But maybe that was just me and dad.  We never really fought exactly.  My dad was quiet, expressive in his actions.  I was private, yet expressive in my expressions.  I think that's why we never really talked much.  We didn't know how.

And then there was my mom.  Loud and blunt and willing to start wars.  She always managed to end them too.

And honestly, I was just waiting for my mom to walk into the kitchen and change my dad's playlist to her Rock N' Roll playlist to better suit her mood and settle our debate.

Our family had a healthy and diverse appreciation for music and I loved it.

Still, I was getting a little bit crazy only seeing small children and my family.  I missed my friends.

So far I was settling for watching people's social media stories.  Reed was surfing and enjoying the beach.  Some of my basketball teammates were spending their every waking minutes together.  At some point I might end up humbling myself and reaching out to my teammates, but at this point that was sort of a last resort.

Cyrus' social media posts were overloaded with goodbye's to Buffy.

My stomach twisted at the thought.  I still felt sort of guilty about how it all ended.

Not to mention, earlier today consisted of Jonah Beck showing up at our practice with a basketball in hand.  Buffy was officially leaving.  It was set in stone, and I guess her friend group thought a signed basketball from the team would be a good going away present.

I stared at the basketball for a good 10 seconds when it finally got to me.  After an entire moral argument in my head, I finally signed it.  I don’t know if she even really wanted my signature.  She probably hated me.

I didn't blame her.

Except I didn't really expect to feel guilty about it.

I waited the whole day before I told my sister about it.

Billie was busy painting her nails with some gaudy black nail polish on my bed.  She didn't even really grant me eye contact, “So why’s she leaving?”

“Her mom’s in the army,” I sighed, remembering the day her mom showed up.  I'd never seen one of those 'Army Parent Comes Home' videos in person, and that day I got to live one, “And I guess her mom got a job in another state, so all of them have to move.”

“Bummer, I think it’s pretty cool she was basically like the first female basketball player at Jefferson Middle.  That's super historic.”

I never really considered it like that.  I'd heard it said a bunch of times, but I never really thought hard about it.  She was the first female basketball player that school had seen.  No wonder she played so aggressively.  She was playing for a whole gender. 

She had to work hard to prove she belonged with us, knowing she didn't.  And I didn't do her any favors reminding her of that everyday.

Unless her hate for me fueled her fire or something.

As I processed this, I didn't say any of it.  Instead, the words I said out loud to my sister were, “Yeah, I guess.”

She furrowed her brow at me, “Are you still being a punk to her?”

I shook my head.  The guilt building up in my stomach again, “No…uh, I feel…felt kind of bad that she didn’t get to play her last game before moving.  Her mom didn’t get to watch her play, and it was pretty much my fault.”

My sister considered that before she finally decided on a retort, "And what are we never going to do again?”

“Get caught cheating?” I grinned.

She rolled her eyes at me, swatting her hand towards me “Teej, your better than that.”  She paused, “You’re too smart for something like that.”

I knew what she meant.  And I understood that she fundamentally couldn't understand a version of me that would willingly, or even needed to, cheat; but the truth was, she didn't know me.  She still thought I was the innocent kid from like kindergarten.  Maybe I wasn't that sort of person now.

I forced a smile, growing self-conscious, “I’m not smart.”

She rolled her eyes at me, scoffing, “Why do always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Drop these random depressing bombs on me and make me feel bad.  Dammit, TJ, you’re smart.  You’re like the biggest history nerd I know…which is seriously not fair that you’re good at sports and also like an encyclopedia for historical stuff.”

I shrugged, “I don’t mean to.”

Billie evidently was ready to move on from the topic.  She sort of stared at me for a very long second before continuing, “So do you think she’ll get mad that you signed the ball considering how much of an awful jerk to her you were?”

“I wasn’t that bad," It didn't even feel true when I tried to lie to myself about it, let alone her.

She glared at me, “You admitted to me you constantly checked her during practice, made sexist jokes that mom would kill you over, not to mention you basically got her kicked off the squad and you’re saying you weren’t horrible to her?” She paused, “Just…tell me you didn’t mean the sexist stuff?”

I shrugged, “I mean...it is true that guys are naturally more athletic than girls.  And I didn’t like that there was a girl on our squad ‘cause like team dynamics but—”

“But…”

I shrugged, “I guess she grew on us.  And she was really nice about the tutoring stuff even though we both kind of hated it.  And I guess…I guess she’s pretty good at basketball.”

“If I ever hear about you bullying a girl with crap like that," Billie sat up in her seat, this warning tone in her voice that almost intimidated me, "I will drive down to your school and punch you in front of your stupid friends.”

I was getting defensive.  Yeah they weren't really the best people ever, but Reed and Lester had been there for me through so much these past few years, “They’re not stupid.”

“They are." She glared at me, "You were so sweet and then you started hanging out with them a bunch last year and you turned into this trouble making jerkface.”

“I’m not a jerkface.” I frowned. "And I didn't turn into anything, I'm just growing up."

“You absolutely are,” she smiled at me, “But on the bright side it’s not too late for you.  There's a chance you grow up into a decent person still.”

Considering I didn't exactly agree with her, I didn't really know what to say, “I guess…”

“What finally convinced you, you were being a jerkface to her anyways?”

I sighed, my face growing hot at the thought.  I still felt horrible.  More guilty about getting nice Cyrus in trouble than being a jerk to Buffy to be honest, “I uh…I got her best friend in trouble with her.”

Billie rose a suspicious eyebrow at me.

“I…I was…I’m sort of friends with her best friend and…I sort of messed up big time and it got him in trouble." I honestly wonder how badly I messed up, "I’m pretty sure she basically told him not to speak to me anymore.”

Billie was intrigued, “And did he?”

“For a while, yeah.  But then all of a sudden he got in touch with me yesterday.  I don’t know if he went behind her back to talk to me or if they fixed things.  He wouldn’t tell me.”

“Ooo! New friend, I want to meet!" She got excited, "It’s been a while since you’ve had one of those!”

“I have friends, Billie.”

“No, you have acquaintances.  And you have teammates.  You don’t have very many friends.”

I rolled my eyes at her.

I had friends.  I just didn't have a lot of close friends.  And it's not like Cyrus was my close friend.

“I…I guess I should apologize to him though." I sighed, "I promised I wouldn’t get him in trouble, and I did.”

“What’d you do, start a cult?”

“Nah.  He just gave me like inside information on her and it got back to her that he was the one that told me.  He didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Your mom finally let you out of the house?” Reed grinned at me.  It was just days after New Years, and with school starting in just a few days we were trying to make the most out of our time together.  As far as I was concerned, I was going to spend every moment I wasn't at practice or Jackson Street with them.

Honestly, most of our time was spent walking around Shadyside's Main Street; although as the sun came down we headed for the dirt track, and Lester pulled out some fireworks from his backpack.

God knows where he got it.  I think the less I knew the better.

We spent the better part of like 15 minutes just setting them up before we lit them.  There were 10 of us racers at the track today, just hanging out in that big dirt patch we all used for dirt biking, and we were all extremely excited at the sheer stupidity that was the opportunity to set up these big dangerous fireworks.

The fun didn't last long though.  Someone texted one of the older teens hanging out with us that they'd spotted police heading towards us.  Probably to check out why there were even fireworks going off in the sky so early in the year.

We set off on our dirtbikes as quickly as we could.

I have to say, we were lucky those things were all terrain and decent on gas because we rode them all the way to Lester’s countryside house a good 3 miles away.

“My mom left like $30 bucks for pizza,” Lester grinned, as we walked into his house, though he glanced at me warily, “Are you sure your mom actually is letting you stay over?”

I chuckled, “Yeah.  I’ve been in purgatory long enough.”

“Purgatory?” Reed furrowed his brows.  He clearly had no idea what I meant.

“The like…in between heaven and hell…it’s—uh, she let me out of prison.”

Reed grinned at me, his ocean blue eyes glimmering at me with a mischievousness, “Does that mean you can come with us next week?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know.  I’m still in trouble for grades and stuff.  Plus I’m still on my basketball suspension…my mom will kill me if I get in trouble while I’m still in trouble.”

Reed snickered at that, brushing through his blonde hair in an attempt to make it look windswept—a habit I didn't he could stop at this point, “You say that like we’re up to bad things?”

I rose an eyebrow, wary of them, “Aren’t we trying to sneak into Lester’s older cousin’s high school party next week?”

Reed rolled his eyes at me, “What are they gonna’ do, arrest us?”

I shrugged, always the logical one, “If cops stop by the party, they could—or worse, take us home.”

“I’m glad you found our crew when you did,” Reed smirked, throwing an arm around me, “‘Cause you need to relax.”

I sighed, growing immediately uncomfortable by his proximity, and therefore separating from his grip as I reached for a water bottle on the counter, "Just trying to get out of middle school without a record."

"If we get that far," Lester joked, "At this rate, it feels like High School will never happen."

All the more reason for me to stay out of trouble until High School.  I saw what some of the older boys got up to, and honestly, most of the time the thought scared me.  Yeah, I was fine with the occasional firework or even sneaking into places we shouldn't be, because it was fun and innocent.  But the partying and the actual illegal stuff; I was very aware Reed was individually starting to get more involved with it—just for the sake of the excitement and danger—and it scared me to know they expected me to keep up.

I didn't blame them.  That was just sort of what you did in a town like Shadyside if you weren't involved in sports or clubs.  It's not like there was anything else fun to do.

I know my friends weren’t perfect, and most of the time I was mildly uncomfortable with half of what they wanted to get up to, but ever since we all sort of found kindred spirits in each other at the beginning of 4^th grade, I felt like I had to stay.

We’d all sort of met through the motorcross circuit from a fairly young age; and considering we were the only kids that regularly practiced at the track without adult supervision, we gravitated towards each other.

Not to mention, it helped that we all ended up going to Jefferson together. 

Still, it wasn’t the sport that really bonded us, it was this really hard to describe energy that the three of us shared.

Lester was a follower with a no sense of self-preservation.  He’d do anything once for the hell of it—and for the story.  He didn't really take anything to seriously, and I loved him for it.  He brought pure fun to our dynamic.

Reed, Reed sort of convinced himself he was invincible.  But I guess that's what growing up spoiled as hell does to someone.  And it wasn’t just that his parents were rich or even that he got a weekly allowance to enable whatever he wanted to do; it was that his parents basically gave him the freedom to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.  Even when he got caught doing something, his parents always explained his behavior away.  It was never his fault.

Needless to say, he could definitely be an entitled jerk sometimes, but there was something sort of endearing about him.

Maybe that was why Lester and I always ended up going along with Reed’s plans.  Something about him just made us trust him—or you know, at least believe the trouble we'd get in would be worth it.

And me? I was the first to admit I had something to prove—in terms of how people saw me, and in terms of trying to be the best at absolutely everything—that I genuinely think the chip on my shoulder was so evident, the three of us saw each other as some sort of leverage.

For them, I think their leverage was that I was the "traditional" jock. I'd be motivated to keep up with them simply because I wanted the escape from normalcy.

It didn’t even matter that we were all so different, honestly, because the first time the three of us ever hung out, it was like I’d found somewhere I belonged.

And more importantly, we collectively found something to aspire to—the fact that we held some sort of novelty for everyone, as the ‘troublemakers’ of Jefferson.

Our influence was evident the moment I noticed Jack and Connor—my basketball teammates—start to hang around our group during lunch more.  Jack had always sort of been a bit of a follower, but I saw the way he looked at Reed and I—like we were special—and I’m not going to lie, the adoration felt addictive.

I think that’s when I started to figure out why Reed was as respected as he was.  The more he acted like he owned the world, the more the world gave him.  And the more he acted like he deserved to be someone people looked up to, the more people actually did.  It confused me, but also fascinated me.

I was obsessed with Reed in a way.  He probably knew it too.  He had a genuine confidence I knew I never could, and I think sometimes he manipulated my insecurities.  Sometimes I let him because I wanted to trust him and I wanted him to think I was important to him.  I wanted to be him.  To live his life.  To get the sort of attention he got.

And I hated myself that I couldn’t shake the fact that I was just addicted to the allure of who he was as much as everyone else was.  It was like the more I learned about him, the more I realized he was this big mystery.

But at the same time he was so transparent.  He was exactly who he said he was. It was frustrating that I would never truly understand him.

My sister said I was obsessed with him in a way that wasn’t healthy.

But I couldn’t help it.

I just wish...I could understand it.

My phone vibrated at some point in the middle of us finally figuring out what we wanted our pizza order to be.  Which honestly, was a grateful distraction.

It was Cyrus.  A welcome name on my screen.  I hadn't heard from him in a week and a half.

I'm still not sure whether or not he's mad at me.

Underdog: I can’t believe we have to go back to school in 4 days.

That was relieving.  He was just trying to make conversation.  I chuckled at his text.  Mostly because I tried not to think about it much.

Me: Don’t remind me.

Underdog: So.... what have you been up to this vacation?

Me: Being grounded, mostly.

Underdog: Oh, I’m sorry.

He had to have known why, right?  He wouldn't ask why, would he?

Me: It’s fine haha, really.  Makes me almost excited to go back to school.  How was your vacation?

Underdog: Hung out with Andi mostly.  And when I wasn’t doing that I was trying to achieve my ‘Watch Every Classic Movie’ ever movie binge.

Me: And how is that going?

Underdog: There ended up being a lot of movies that qualify as ‘Classics’ so…like I’m barely in movies from the 60’s.  This was a bad idea.

Me: It sounds like an amazing idea tbh.

“Yo, Kippen.  Who’s got you grinning?”

Lester’s voice tore through my thoughts.  Lester and Reed had been so engrossed in some conversation about upgrades they wanted on their bikes, that I didn't even really process I stopped paying attention until they called me out. 

But who could blame me?  I was starting to get to a point where bike talk was sort of...boring.  Like, don't get me wrong, I like racing, and I still race at least once a year.  But I didn't love it and want to make something out of it like they did.  I didn't love it like I loved basketball.

It showed, and I think it's why I started to feel this distance between me and them.  I could really only blame myself for it.

“Huh?”

“Somebody’s got you grinnin’” Lester teased, throwing a bottle cap at me.

I blushed for a moment, to embarrassed to even try avoiding the bottle cap.  I knew what he meant, but…I was just talking to Cyrus.

I liked talking to Cyrus.

I didn’t see anything wrong with enjoying a conversation. Talking to him made me feel an odd sense of peace.

And if they thought that looked like flirting, really it speaks to how obvious it was that they didn't have friends they liked talking to.

“I, uh…” I panicked, “I’m just talking to a friend.”

A friend I missed talking to.  To be honest I’m surprised he texted me at all considering he hadn’t really texted me since Buffy left for Arizona.

“Friend?” Reed joined in on the fun, starting to approach me.  I could see it in his eyes, he was going to try to grab my phone.

Crap.  It would look so weird.  I’d have so much explaining to do.  The best I could do would be to lock my phone and hope he didn’t read too much into things.

Not that there was anything to read into.

Chapter Text

Two whole weeks into the semester and things were starting to look up for me.

I was finally free of my 2-game suspension; my new tutor—a 30 something Assistant Professor from our local University—seemed pretty cool; and most importantly, my life started to feel like it was getting back to normal.

My mom wasn’t necessarily requiring that I still go to Jackson Street, but considering my aunt was actually paying me, I didn’t really see the problem in going in every Saturday afternoon.

Plus, it gave me enough leverage with my mom, that she was more willing to say yes when I asked if I could hang out with Reed and Lester on Saturday nights.

I was headed to Jackson Street when I spotted Cyrus through the window of The Spoon.  I hadn't seen him in person since like before Winter Break.

I didn’t even fully realize that I’d walked into The Spoon until I heard the bell of the front door and I was standing in front of the table he was sitting at with his other friend—Andi, I think.

I’m pretty sure she was the one who was in charge of that whole prison uniform riot last semester.

I guess, I should say hi at this point right?

“Hey,” I smiled at them, suddenly noticing the trash can taking over an entire seat in their booth.  As casually as I could, I smiled at the trashcan, “who’s your friend?”

Andi immediately glared at me with this look of annoyance.  I guess I didn’t really blame her, all things considered,“Uh, it’s kind of a long story.”

Cyrus was quick to interrupt, “It’s Buffy.  It’s how we pretend she’s still around.”

“Got it.” I glanced at the trash can again.  I didn’t completely understand how it was supposed to be her, but apparently it meant something to them.  I chuckled, “I didn’t recognize her.”

Faking her voice and probable anger at me, I continued, “Go away, TJ!”

I smiled, as if I’d just made a realization, and oddly proud of myself, I smirked, “Oh, now I see the resemblance.”

Andi didn’t look so impressed with me.  Cyrus was trying to hold back a laugh.

Trying to save face, in the most polite voice I could muster, “Can I sit?”

Cyrus sort of sat up in his seat, evidently making the decision for the both of them, “I think she’d be okay with it.”

“I’m not sure I’m okay with it.” Andi glared at me, a slight disgust in her face, “ You were awful to her.  And even though she’s gone,” she glanced wishfully at the trash can, “she’s still here in spirit.”

I didn’t expect to actually apologize to Buffy, let alone like this, but I suppose for my own conscience I sort of needed to.

Plus, maybe Cyrus would be less weird with me if his best friend’s didn’t still hate me.

I let out a sigh, before starting, staring straight at the trash can, “I know I should’ve done this to you in person.  But I was a jerk,” I paused, I think I was actually starting to mean it.  I think my sister was getting to me, “Like big time.  And I’m sorry.” I paused again, considering how frustrating her last few days at Jefferson must have been, “You didn’t deserve that.”

Neither Andi nor Cyrus really said anything.  Although, begrudgingly, Andi did extend her hand to the seat in front of her. 

I was allowed to sit with them.

Proud of myself, and excited to catch up with my friend that I really hadn’t been able to talk to much since the semester started, I pushed ‘Buffy’ over in the stall so that I could sit.

Eager, I smiled at them, “So, what were you guys talking about?”

Immediately, Cyrus offered, “Ah…you know.  The weather, current events, price of hot lunch.”

He was lying.  Why?

I don’t know why I was so upset about it either.

I scoffed at him, “So you’ll let me sit down, but you won’t even talk to me?”

Wow, I was still upset about Buffy barring him from talking to me.  I know we weren’t close, but knowing he wasn’t being upfront with me like he had been early in our friendship, was noticeable.  And apparently it bothered me more than I realized.  I’m not sure where that came from.

“I’m sorry, it’s private.” He cringed, trying to figure out how to explain himself, “I’m having a physical…issue.”

I’m not really sure what he meant, but if Andi knew it must have been something serious.  Or…maybe Andi and Cyrus weren’t really friends in the way I thought they were.  I guess I didn’t really know him.

Concerned, I glanced between the two of them, “Oh?”

“Wait!” Cyrus recoiled, sort of flailing his arms between us, “No, stop imagining horrible things.”

Andi was trying to stifle a laugh at his expense.

“I—I can’t do a somersault, okay?” He finally blurted out, but not before embarrassing himself.

That was it?  I literally taught little kids to do that every day during Winter Break.

He continued, “In fact, there’s a whole list of easy things I can’t do.”

Andi chuckled, evidently warming up to me.  Or...I guess just enjoying an opportunity to tease her best friend, “He’s serious.  There is a list.”

Without hesitation, Cyrus grabbed his phone, “Just sent it to you.”

My phone immediately vibrated.  There was a list.

And it was in PDF format.

Funny, I really thought he’d be a Document Cloud kind of person, that way he could edit the list as needed.

Is it weird that I found it endearing that he was so unashamed, so himself?  It was refreshing, honestly.  It was probably my favorite thing about him.

I glanced at the list for only a second, before I smirked at him.  I don’t know if I could help him overcome his…'fear of heights'…but teaching him a somersault was definitely something within my area of expertise.

“Listen, Underdog,” I smirked, “If you can’t do a somersault, I can help you with that.”

Andi almost looked shocked at my offer.  But then the bell at the front door rang and both of them sort of froze.

Cyrus got all excited, tapping her shoulder repeatedly as they glanced behind me, “Andi!  There he is.  Go talk to him about,” he paused, whispering, “You know.”

Her eyes grew even wider, “Here?  Now?”

Cyrus nearly pushed her off of her seat and towards the middle of the restaurant.

Oh, it was Jonah Beck.  Cyrus was telling Andi to go talk to Jonah.

I hadn’t seen him since the whole basketball signing thing.  And I hadn’t spoken to him since he freaked out at Cyrus’ Bar Mitzvah.

I hope he’s okay.

“What’s going on there?” I whispered, attempting to continue a conversation with him without Andi hearing us.

“Uh, it’s complicated,” Cyrus paused.

“Are they dating?”

Cyrus shrugged, “I don’t think either of them know.”

I felt awkward at that, “Ah, gotcha.  Awkward.”

He shrugged, “They’ll figure it out.”

Suddenly another girl approached Jonah, a pretty tan brunette.  Andi did not look happy.

Big oof.

And then they were all sitting at our booth.  I’d never felt so awkward.  I’d only now really actually met Andi.   I didn’t really know Jonah very well, and I definitely didn’t know the girl.  Plus Andi still looked kind of mad.

Was that her thing?  Being mad at people?

Cyrus offered what I was thinking, to my relief, “This is happening?”

Andi sort of stood there and stared at Jonah, sighing before she finally uttered, “I…actually, should get going.”

“Really?” Jonah sounded disappointed.

“Really?” Cyrus sounded almost devastated.

“I just remember I have to be…” she glanced desperately around at the table for a second, before glaring at him, “not here.”

Yeah, there was definitely something going on between them.  And they certainly weren’t in a good place whatever it was.

Sensing it was probably best I left now, all things considered—especially since I didn’t exactly have the time to be in The Spoon in the first place, I started to rise from my seat, “I should probably head out too.  I have to go to work…”  Cyrus looked scared at the thought of being left alone in that mess.  Plus, maybe now was a perfect time to teach him the somersault, I mean, I was headed towards Jackson Street anyways.  I offered, “You want to come with me?”

I’d never seen him look so relieved, “Yes! Please!”

I refrained from my own thoughts until we’d left The Spoon.

“That looked complicated back there,” I chuckled as he headed down Main Street.

“You have no idea.” Cyrus’ eyes grew wide.  He sort of looked forward, clearly lost in his own thoughts.

“Yeah,” I chuckled, “I probably don’t.”

“It’s this really dramatic back and forth,” he paused, his arms starting to move in this genuine excitement, “Like the stuff of movies.  It’s sort of fun to watch in a way, but also...I feel really bad for Andi.  She…she sort of gets jealous and I don’t really think Jonah even realizes that he makes her jealous.” He paused, guilty, "Should I be saying that about her?"

I shrugged, "Sometimes it's good having outside friends," I paused, elbowing him, "Different perspectives and stuff."

He still looked slightly guilty, "Yeah...right, right."

I chuckled at him.  I don't know why, but it was sort of funny he felt so bad about venting.  For his benefit, I offered, “Why don’t they just talk?”

On immediate reflection however, I don’t know why I offered that advice like it was actually that easy.

“I think they’re still figuring out how to do that.” He cringed, “In any case! I'm a little bit ready to be free from being in the middle of their drama.  It was exhausting.”

“How so?”

Cyrus’ eyes grew wide at that.  He blushed.  Wow, I’d never seen him blush before.

It was kind of…cute.

“Uh…it’s a long story.  That’s all.”

I didn’t like that he felt like he couldn’t tell me.  For someone that seemed so open, it almost hurt that I obviously gave off some sort of vibe that he felt like he couldn't trust me.  But I had the feeling like he wouldn’t tell me anyways if I pushed him on it, so I decided to drop the topic.

He evidently decided to change the subject, “Where do you work anyways?”

“Around the corner,” I smiled, “Jackson Street Gym.”

“You work at a gym?” His jaw dropped, he looked as if I’d asked him to go commit a serious crime with me.  He was exasperated, “You should’ve told me.  I hate gyms.”

I don’t know how I ended up befriending someone so proudly non-athletic as him, but here we were.

I chuckled at him, as we approached my aunt’s gym, “You’ll like this one.  This is where you’re gonna learn to do a somersault.”

He rolled his eyes at me, “Says the athlete with boundless confidence.”

Fundamentally untrue, honestly sometimes I got the impression he had more confidence than me.  He was always unflinchingly himself, whereas I honestly didn’t think highly of myself most days.

He gave me more credit, than I think I deserved, or even had.

I chuckled at him.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be a kugel of a man.”

I chuckled at him again, deciding it was best to ignore his attempts at sympathy as I pushed him into the gym.

I knew I was late.  All the kids were there, running around everywhere.  Most of the parents had already left barring like one helicopter parent.

My aunt sort of looked at me frazzled, considering she was trying to run another class in the back room whilst simultaneously watching the kids I was supposed to be in charge of.

“Sorry.”

She rose a suspicious eyebrow at me, “Who’s the friend?”

“Cyrus,” I smiled, pulling him into my side by his shoulder, “Sorry, I had to uh…pick him up.”

My aunt sort of looked unimpressed as she walked away.

“The owner, I presume?” Cyrus offered.

“Yeah,” I smiled, “And my aunt.  I sort of help out when she asks.”

I shook my head, as I glanced around at the group of kids.  Most of them were still very much playing, taking no note that I was here now.

“Okay, guys!  Everyone come towards me!”  A couple kids started to turn towards me, but none of them actually approached me.  I rolled my eyes.  They were too hyper for me to probably be gentle with my tone, “Okay guys, let’s see if everyone can make it to me in 10, 9, 8, 7…” they all began to run towards me, “6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!”

“Okay guys, we’re gonna do some warm ups?  Are you ready?”

They all glanced up eagerly at me.  I rushed through several stretches, helping them get some of their initial energy out before I began to rush through a sort of "gymanstics" routine I’d perfected at this point.

We worked through the play tunnels, low beam, and rope ladders—all of which I miraculously managed to convince Cyrus to participate in—before finally working our way to somersaults.

Considering it was something we had been working on for two weeks, most of the kids managed the somersault fairly well.  Some of them, in fact, were probably ready to move on to assisted hand stands.

Cyrus, on the other hand, was about 8 attempts in, and hadn’t improved in the slightest.

In fact, and I wouldn't tell him this, but I think he was actually getting worse.

I could tell he was starting to get discouraged, and to be honest, I was starting to lose faith in myself that I could help him.

And then, on attempt 15, it happened.

It was like watching in slow motion.

He managed a somersault.

I honestly couldn’t believe it.  He jumped from his spot, absolutely ecstatic.

I couldn’t help but laugh as he ran down the line of the students and gave them all high fives.

He was like this...walking ball of light. I stared at him in awe for a moment, his energy was just so pure.

It was then that he ran up to me.

We ended up chest bumping, but when he went flying, I realized I had probably bumped him a bit too hard.

He didn’t seem to mind.  He was so happy.  And I was so proud.

I didn’t get to relish in the moment long, as I still had 30 minutes with this group of kids—which mostly consisted of me letting them free play—not to mention I still had another hour and half block of new kids.

Once the first class had left, and we had a momentary lull; one where the gym was almost quiet, I followed Cyrus to his seat on a stack of unused mats.

“I’m so proud of you, dude,” I leaned into him, bumping him with my arm.

He beamed at me, “I’m proud of me too.”  He paused, “Thanks, TJ.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that, “I have another class to teach in a minute.  Do you need to call your mom to pick you up?”

He shook his head, “No.  I don’t live that far away.  I’ll probably just walk.”

I nodded, “Well, you’re always free to stay around.” I paused, considering my words, and that I honestly still wanted to hang out with him, “Maybe I can walk you home or something?  Make sure you get home safe.”

I don’t know why, but suddenly my anxiety increased to like 1000, just waiting for him to reply.

Cyrus smiled at that.  I felt my whole face go hot.  Wow, why was I nervous?  This was Cyrus.  The nicest person on the planet.  He’d probably say yes, even if he didn’t want to, “Yeah.  That’d be nice.”

"Yeah?"

The class session went by fairly quickly.  Which I was sort of excited about considering the latter group was always the rowdiest.  I offered a quick goodbye to my aunt before heading off with Cyrus.

She looked suspiciously at me, but honestly, that was sort of her energy.  Sometimes, I think she was convinced I was always up to something.

"I can't believe I did a somersault." Cyrus beamed at me as we began our trek down Main Street.

"I can.  'Cause you did one."

"Seriously," he pulled on my arm for a second, "Thank you so much.  You did not need to help me."

I couldn't move.  It was like my brain and my body were incapable of functioning.  I stammered for a second before I was able to re-establish myself, "It's really no problem, Cyrus.  That's what friends are for."

Cyrus chuckled at that, "Yeah, the last time a friend tried to teach me how to do anything, I broke my thumb."

I couldn't help but laugh at that.  Maybe it was the way he said it so casually. "How'd you do that?"

"Jonah tried to teach me how to skateboard...but he didn't really teach me how to stop.  I sort of...stopped in a way.  Like...in a bush."

"Oh no," I offered, in genuine sympathy, "Well...if I ever teach you how to do something, we'll make sure to start slow."

"Yeah, my dad freaked out when I broke it." He paused, "It being my first broken bone and all."

I chuckled at him, "Yeah, I've broken a few bones at this point.  The fun one was my ulna."

He chuckled at me, "We're like broken bone buddies now."

I rose an eyebrow at him, "No more broken bones from you though.  I couldn't picture you in pain."

Cyrus shrugged at that, "Yeah I'm more of the psychologically broken type than physically broken."

My smile immediately dropped.  Had he always put himself down like this?  Was this the first time I noticed.

Shoot, maybe this is what my sister meant when she said she didn't like it when I put myself down.  It sucks, it makes you want to shield a person.

"You're like the happiest, nicest person I know.  What could you have issues with?"

Cyrus' smile dropped too.  He blushed again, "I uh...I think it's more...uh...like a basic run-of-the-mill overthinking.  I don't know, maybe I can't help overanalyzing things," he glanced up at me nervously.  I felt myself grow nervous too, "but maybe that's cause I have four mental health professionals as parents."

"Four?"

Cyrus chuckled, his tone a little lighter than before, "Yeah, my mom and dad got divorced a few years ago.  My dad's a Psychiatrist, my mom's a Therapist.  When they both got remarried my mom married a 'Life Coach' and my dad married another Therapist.  So all around mental health is sort of the running theme of my life." 

I furrowed my brows, "So is that a good or bad thing?"

He let out a long sigh.  As if he'd been carrying some weight for a long time and finally got the opportunity to set it down, "In ways it's good.  I'm really aware of mental health issues, and it's nice knowing that I can always talk to my parents," he paused, "But sometimes it makes me like too aware, like I'll analyze everything and everyone.  Or like afraid to talk to them about things because I know they'll overanalyze it."

"I can see you being the kid of therapists though," I chuckled, "It all sort of makes sense now.  No wonder I felt so comfortable talking to you that day...when I told you about my dyscalculia.  You're like a counselor, yourself."

He furrowed his brow, "How is that going, by the way?"

I shrugged, "I won't say things are easier.  But I feel like...I don't know, like I'm less out of control."

Cyrus went silent for a moment as we continued walking, "Did you ever...tell your parents about it?"

I nodded, "Yeah.  I sort of had to.  Coleman was going to tell them.  My mom had this really long phone call with him last week.  And my dad he was tutoring me like all of Winter Break.  It was sort of brutal."

Cyrus smiled at that, "It's cool that they care, though."

I shrugged, "Eh.  I keep going back and thinking that they should have seen the signs.  But like, it's not like my mom knew math.  She wasn't good at it herself, plus she sort of stopped helping me with homework after like 2nd grade.  I was pretty good at like doing it on my own, you know?  And my dad, he tries to help but he's so busy all the time it's really inconsistent.  They just...they have a lot going on in their lives, and like I do too, of course they wouldn't notice something as little as that."

"It's not little," Cyrus reaffirmed, "And maybe they should have noticed."

I shook my head, "There's no use looking back on what if's though.  Besides, if my parents weren't so busy I probably wouldn't have as much time to sort of go off and do what I want."

"I guess."

I don't know what brought me to say it.  And hell, I wasn't even really sure I wanted to hear the answer, but I couldn't help but feel the guilt eat away at me, "Uh, Cyrus?"

Cyrus glanced up at me with those big innoccent brown eyes.  My stomach twisted at the sight.  I hated myself that I betrayed his trust. "Yeah?"

"Are we okay?" I swallowed, "I...feel really bad about how everything happened.  I...didn't mean to get you in trouble, if you got in trouble.  I even feel sort of bad for how everything went down with Buffy.  She's sort of nice—in her own way—and I wasn't very nice to her."

Cyrus shrugged, "Like it never happened."

"But did I?  Get you in trouble I mean?"

Cyrus shrugged again, "It's fine, really."

"Are you sure?"

Cyrus chuckled at me, "TJ, like you said, no use looking back on what if's.  We've all moved on."

If that was the case, why was I still carrying the guilt?  Why did I feel worse that I felt like he was sparing my feelings?

Ugh, he was such a better person than me.  Why the heck was he always so nice to me?  Looking at this angel of a human, honestly I felt like such a monster of a person.  I was insecure, I cared too much what other people thought of me, and honestly, I don't think I listened to my own voice enough.

And when I did listen to that voice, it told me I was weak, and dumb, and a coward.

I wasn't good.  I'd never felt like the good guy.  I'd never really acted like the good guy.  I wasn't brave enough to be the good guy.  Or vulnerable enough to be the good guy.  To be honest, I didn't even know that I was capable of it.

Chapter Text

Six weeks into the school year, and I was already sort of done with school.  We’d just finished our Quadratic functions unit a few days ago, it felt like Mr. Coleman took a whole week to grade them.

I’d done fine our last unit.  Well enough to stay on the team.  But this unit was hard, and Mr. Coleman made promises that I’d need more time intensive tutoring if I started to slack.

At this point, it didn’t interfere with my basketball practices, but I was understandably desperate to keep it that way.

As far as the team went, we sort of functioned as if I’d never even been suspended.  We were back to our winning record.

It felt sort of nice having basketball be the only thing I was actively worrying about, again.

I’m not gonna’ lie though.  I still felt sort of weird that for everything Buffy fought for, she really didn’t play on our team for very long, but I imagine she’s happy playing basketball wherever in Arizona she is.

It felt like slow motion as Mr. Coleman walked towards me, before finally reaching my desk.  He smiled at me as he handed me the paper, face down, “Better.”

I held my breath as a I flipped the paper over.

And there, staring back at me was a big red C.

Oh my god, I passed a math test.  I don’t remember the last time that happened.

I held in my excitement for the 5 minutes we had class left.

The moment the bell rang I sprinted out of the classroom.

I had English next.  Without even really thinking about it, I turned left instead of right.

I know it was quicker for me to turn right and head down the stairway immediately adjacent to my classroom, but I’d taken the second floor hallway like habit now.

I’m not even really sure when it started, other than that it happened casually over the course of this semester.

I did, however, know that if I took the hallway route I would definitely see Cyrus.

And today of all days, I needed to talk to him.  I needed to show him my grade.

He’d be so proud. 

I just had to remember not to talk to him too long ‘cause the last time I got caught up in an in between class conversation with him I got myself a lunch detention for showing up to English 2 minutes late.

Trying to be mindful of time, I casually leaned against a random locker in the middle of the hallway, just scanning through the crowd of students for what felt like forever.

It was then that I spotted a familiar mop of brown hair.

I didn’t even give him a chance to recognize me before I sprinted to his side.

“Cyrus!” I nearly yelled.

He jumped at the sound, I guess I scared him. “Um, yes?”

“I passed!”

“That’s great!” He beamed, immediately excited for me, “Passed what?”

I pushed my math test into his hands, he sort of froze at my aggression for a moment, “I passed my math test.  I got a C!”

Cyrus couldn’t stop smiling, “That’s amazing TJ.  I’m so proud of you!”

“You helped me so much,” I couldn’t stop smiling, “I just thought I needed to tell you!”

“I’m really happy for you TJ,” He paused, looking down at his watch, “I’d love to congratulate you more, but I have to get to Math!”

“I should get to class too,” I smiled, tapping his chest, “See you later, Cy.”

“See ya’ later, TJ!”

Today had ended up being particularly long.  On the bright side, we ended up beating the Raptors.  My dad wasn’t able to make it, but my mom had made sure to record it so that he could watch it later on.

My mom, Billie, and I were in the middle of dinner when she received a text, “Oh, dad said he’s about 20 minutes away.  We can set up the TV and watch your game together.”

I sighed.  As much as he supported me and playing basketball, it hurt that he was never able to be there, “I wish he could have been there though.”

She leaned her hand across the table, “He wishes he could be there too.”

“Oh, I just remembered!” I beamed, “I got my scores from my math test back today.”

“And?” My mom smiled.

“And I got a C.”

She looked just as excited to hear it, as I had been seeing it in person, “I’m so proud of you sweetheart!”

My phone vibrated against the table.

I glanced up at my mom.

“You know the rules, no phones at dinner.”

“But you just checked your phone,” I smirked, “And the way I see it, I’m basically done with dinner.”

“Is it one of your little girlfriends?” She smirked, as I finally checked my phone.

I blushed at my mom’s words.  I don’t know why she said that, I’d only had one girlfriend before, and it only lasted like 3 weeks last summer.

Not to mention, I wasn’t all that interested in her to begin with.  I wasn’t really all that interested in many girls to begin with.

They just seemed so confusing.

I finally glanced down at my phone.  It was a text from Cyrus.

My heart started racing.

I don’t know what was going on, but I didn’t like that I was getting so nervous around Cyrus nowadays.

“TJ doesn’t have girlfriends,” Billie teased, “Honestly, I don’t even know if he has female friends.”

I glared at her.

I don’t know how she got it in her head that I didn’t have friends, or that I wasn’t constantly texting people, because I definitely did.

In any case, it wasn’t worth the argument.

Thankfully the topic changed to Billie complaining about her theater experiences.  Apparently the group of musicians meant to serve as the productions’ ‘Orchestra’ were driving her crazy since none of them could focus for long.

It wasn’t long after that, that my dad finally got home.  He quickly grabbed his plate from the microwave before making himself comfortable in the living room.

My mom was already connecting her laptop to the TV.

My dad smiled at me, “You gonna’ watch?”

I considered it for a moment before I shrugged.  Honestly, I was so tired, the idea of having to watch myself play for an hour just felt exhausting.

“It’s fine,” I shrugged, “But if you wanna’ talk about it after, I’ll probably be in Billie’s room.”

By the time I reached the top of the stairs, I could already hear the sound of “Love of My Life” by Queen through the crack in her door.

“Love of my life, don’t leave me.  You’ve taken my love and now desert me...”

“Geez, who hurt you?” I chuckled as I knocked on her door, staring at her from her doorway.

She shrugged, “Sometimes you just need moody Queen to cleanse the soul.” She chuckled, “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Am I a bad person for not wanting to watch the game with dad?” I sighed, still standing in her doorway.

I shrugged, “I mean, you lived it,” she paused, “Plus it’s not like it was a great game to begin with.  You’re not like obligated to spend time with him.”

I sighed, “Today felt like it went on forever.”

She chuckled at me, “Just wait ‘till high school little bro.  Middle school is nothing.”

“What’s high school like?”

She guffawed at that, “Uh, like school I guess?  Not that different from middle school except like more drama and older people, I guess.”

I approached her desk, making myself comfortable on her desk chair.

“What’s up, little bro?”

I shrugged, “I dunno.  Things are just weird, I guess.”

She rose an eyebrow at me, “In what way?”

“I don’t know.  It just is.”

She nodded at that, already starting to ignore me as she turned her attention to her phone.

“Am I weird for being annoyed that Reed and Lester won’t make time to watch me play,” I paused, “I get that it’s like middle school basketball, so it’s not really a big deal…but it’d be nice, you know.”

She shrugged, “If you’ve asked them to come watch, and they won’t, then yeah you have like every right to be annoyed,” she paused, considering her words, “But like, are you really surprised?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean like, I know Reed’s type.  If he’s anything like his older brother, they’re kind of into themselves, you know?  Plus, a lot of those racer guys that hang out at your spot,” she paused, “I don’t know, I’ve just heard stories from people.”

“Is that why you don’t like them?” I returned, starting to grow mildly annoyed, “‘Cause you’ve heard stories?  That’s not really fair is it?  Isn’t that like judging a book by it’s cover?”

She frowned, “I  mean it’s…” she paused, “Don’t pretend like you haven’t.  You didn’t like that Buffy girl the day you met her just because she was a girl who played basketball.”

“I didn’t like her because she was a know-it-all.” I shook my head, lowering my voice, “And…it’s not like I don’t like her anymore.”

Billie’s eyebrows shot up, “You don’t not like her, huh?”

“That’s not what I meant, Billie.  Geez.” I paused, “I just mean she’s okay now.”

Billie shrugged at me, “‘Call me judgmental all you want, but I’m a very good judge of character.”

“I don’t judge people by their covers,” I paused, “if I did I wouldn’t be friends with Cyrus.”

“Who the heck is this Cyrus kid anyways? You’ve talked about him before?”

“He’s uh…he’s one of Buffy’s friend’s.  This funny awkward non-athletic sort of dorky kid in my grade,” I paused, “But like…we’re friends anyways.  He’s cool in his own way.”

“Oh look, TJ and his one charity case.  You must be so proud of yourself.”

“I…he’s not a charity case,” I paused, realizing how I came off, “he’s really my friend.  Even you couldn’t hate him.”

“Doubtful, you have bad taste.”

“Really!” I began to raise my voice, a little incredulous, “He’s really nice.  Like the nicest person I’ve ever met.  I honestly don’t know why he wants to be my friend.  He’s like a really good person.”

Billie chuckled to herself for a moment, “Maybe you’re the charity case in this equation.”

I could feel my face grow hot.  I mean, really, what if this is all this was?  He was being nice to me just because I kept trying to be his friend.  What if me being around him really made him uncomfortable?  Especially with the whole Buffy situation.

What if he was only nice just to like buffer the situation between me and Buffy?

He probably didn’t even really want to be my friend.

“Ugh,” I let out, trying to think of something to change the subject before I finally settled on my other friends, “Did I uh…did I tell you that Reed’s parents got him this really nice photography camera?  He’s been taking pictures of everything like all week.”

My sister rolled her eyes at me.

“What?”

She shrugged, “Guess I’m tired of hearing about Reed.  Reed did this, Reed did that.  Who freaking cares?”

I could feel myself grow defensive, “I’m just trying to like involve you in my life, Billie, damn!  Sorry, you hate my friends so much, I don’t say anything about your friends.  And to be honest, the sound of Haley’s voice gives me a headache everytime she opens her mouth.”

My sister looked scandalized.

“Sorry, damn,” she replied in a snarky tone at me, “I’m just saying, you talk about him like all the time.  Like get over it, you’re not him and you’ll never be, and thank God.  I’d move out if I was related to that.  Like damn, why can’t you talk about a crush as much as you talk about him…at least that’ll be more entertaining.”

We both sort of looked at each other for a moment.  I immediately felt uncomfortable, and I couldn’t really tell what was going on in my sister’s head considering I refused to look at her, but I’m pretty sure she was just waiting for me to respond.  She had to have known how that came off.

“But seriously though,” Billie tried to continue, “How’s the love life going?”

I shrugged, still feeling uncomfortable, even though I couldn’t really place why. “Don’t really have one…I don’t…really have crushes.  Too busy, I guess.”

Billie joked, “Yeah I think I’d rather have you take basketball as your girlfriend than Reed or some dumb girl any day.”

I rolled my eyes at her, “Stop.”

“Like seriously anybody but Reed.”

“It’s not like that, Billie.” I groaned, “Stop making jokes like that Billie.  It’s weird.”

She shrugged, “Why?  You are obsessed with him.  You’re like…emotionally too attached for it to be healthy for you.”

“Stop making it sound like I have a crush on him or something, I don’t.” I snapped, “Damn Billie, it’s really hard for me to get close to people, and you’re making me feel weird about the people I am close to.”

She let out a sigh.  I think more annoyed with me than anything.  I think she wanted to continue arguing with me, but honestly I was really really uncomfortable.

I didn’t like the accusation.

First of all ‘cause I didn’t like boys.

But most of all because sometimes I questioned my weird fascination with him too, and sometimes when I went to really dark places I thought…I don’t know.

I didn’t like boys.

I just didn’t get attached to people easily, ‘cause when I did, I’d get too attached.

That was normal.  And in no way romantic.  It was platonic.  Just intense, you know?

And no, I wasn’t panicking, I was careful this time.  I wouldn’t get obsessed with Cyrus like I did with Reed, because this was different.

I just felt safe with Cyrus is all.  But that didn’t mean I was reliant on him or anything.

Chapter Text

“I just think, like…I don’t know.  Shouldn’t they cut us some slack?  We’re the ones doing extra curricular stuff, there should be some built in credit and forgiveness the one time we don’t turn in an assignment,” Connor, my teammate, groaned as we headed towards History.

I’m not gonna’ lie, a small part of me agreed.  But then the other part of me knew Connor was full of crap, “But like, don’t you always turn in your homework late?”

Connor rolled his eyes at me, the sarcasm unmistakable, “Like you’re so perfect.  Weren’t you failing math for a while?”

I stopped in my tracks.  I hadn’t said anything about that to anyone on the team. “Who said that?”

Connor shrugged, “Reed mentioned it.”

I tried to play off my embarrassment, but I'm not all that sure it was convincing, “Yeah, well…I don’t like math.” I paused, trying to come up with a reasonable lie, “But you know, my mom threatened basketball if I didn’t pull up my grade.”

Connor groaned, his eyes steadfast on the ground in front of us as we walked, “You know, you think sitting next to someone as smart as Ellie would help my grade in History, but she’s one of those people who like covers her paper when she takes a test.”

I chuckled, “Maybe you can’t pass ‘cause you’re too busy staring at Gen.”

Connor’s eyes glossed over, he got this stupid sort of smile on his lips, “Gen.”

I chuckled at him again.  He was so ridiculously in love with this girl he barely knew, that I felt sort of sorry for her.

“I don’t know if this is giving away my own insecurity or anything,” Connor paused, glancing up at me hesitantly, “But I’m super thankful you’re not like a super flirtatious person because I don’t…I wouldn’t have a chance if you actually like went after girls here.”

Was this his way of admitting I was good looking?  I mean, I sort of knew I was.  Not that it really mattered since I wasn't all that interested in dating.  I shrugged, “Guess, I don’t really care enough to try.”

“Seriously, like how tall are you?  Like I know girls that ask about you, and 90% of the time it’s 100% ‘cause your tall.  Seriously, it’s not fair for you to be as tall as you are.”

I shrugged again, I didn’t really think about it other than knowing it was definitely an advantage in basketball, “I don’t know, like 5’8 or something.”

Connor groaned at that.  I didn’t blame him, he was still like 5’.

If he had more to say, he didn’t get the chance.  Everyone was standing near the doorway as we walked into our classroom.  All of our desks were completely rearranged from their group formation into singular partner tables.  Ms. Dodd looked positively proud of herself as she glanced at our confused faces.

“New unit!” She beamed.

Ugh, new unit meant seat changes.  I’d just gotten used to my group.

“Alright!” Ms. Dodd, continued, “I’m gonna’ do this fast so make sure you’re paying attention.  As you can see the desks are arranged in two’s.  So I’m going to list two names off at a time and point to a desk.  I’ll only go through this once, so make sure you’re listening.”

Connor was the 3^rd name announced overall.  I wasn’t surprised, the front row was probably the only place he’d have even remote hope to do well in this class.

Then again, he was a row away from Gen, so I’m sure him doing well this unit was already a fail.

It wasn’t until she was pointing to the back row that I finally heard my name, “TJ Kippen, Adriana Cortez.”

I forced a smile, trying to be nice, at Audrey as we both headed for our seats.  She caught eyes with me for only a second before she looked away, looking almost angry.

When I smiled at her as we took our seats, she wouldn’t acknowledge me.

I mean geez, I knew some people didn’t like me, but this was ridiculous.  I didn’t even know why she didn’t like me.

“Okay, we’ll have a group assignment later in this unit, which I’ll discuss next week.  But for today we’re going to be doing partner work."  The class groaned at that, but Ms. Dodd persisted, "I’m going to give each of you a topic or person that you are going to look up in your textbook and then you and your partner are going to give a 2 minute presentation on that topic.  That topic will correlate to a bigger group presentation you will present at the end of the unit,” she paused, evidently noting all of our concerned faces, “Don’t worry, this will be an entirely in-class assignment.”

For our in-class presentation, Ms. Dodd ended up giving us the name of Niccoló Machiavelli.

As Audrey didn’t say much to me, I quickly went to reading what little our textbook said about him.

When I finished reading, I noted she was busy scribbling away on her notebook.

“Hey,” I offered, “You wanna’ practice what we’re gonna’ say to the class?”

She shrugged at me, “It’s fine.  I’ll just say something.”

I was mildly annoyed by this, “But it’s a partner project.”

“It’s fine," she scoffed, "really.”

“Audrey, I don’t even know what you want to say.” I’m not really sure why this was making me anxious, but it was, “You could at least tell me what you’re planning.”

She shrugged, “He’s an Italian Politician.  Everyone thought he was evil.”

I mean, our textbook did regard him as an influential philosopher during that time, but what did I know?

She refused to say much else to me the duration of our partner time, and I could only sit in horror once the class “presented” on their topics.  Audrey didn’t sound unprepared per se, but she did sound like she didn’t care and probably gave the most basic description possible.  The part of me that wanted to do well sort of died on the inside.

Once the lunch bell range, she was quick to dash out of the classroom.

What the hell?

Unsettled by the fact that she was being absolutely rude to me for no reason, I realized I had to chase her down.  She’d already made it halfway down the hallway before I was able to catch up to her.

“Audrey!” I lunged towards her.  She stopped, rolling her eyes at me as she turned around.

“What, TJ?!”

“What’s your problem?”

She shrugged at me.  Typical girl.  Never telling you specifically anything.  They just expect you to know.

“Seriously, you ignored me all of class.  You’re obviously mad at me for something.”

“Or maybe I’m one of the few people who don’t worship you, and your head is so big the fact that I’m not bothers you.”

I furrowed my brows, “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t want to talk to you, during class.” She crossed her arms at her chest, impetuous, “We have to sit next to each other during class, whatever.  Just don’t bother me.”

“I…I mean fine…but we still need to do our partner stuff.  You have to work with me then.”

She shrugged at me again.

“Did I do something to you or something?” I groaned at her, “Why are you being so mean to me?”

She chuckled darkly at that, “I’m mean to you? Ha.”

I was honestly hurt, “I’ve never done anything to you, Audrey.  I don’t get you.”

“Yeah, well get this.  Madison, Madison Hill? That name ring a bell?”

Madison. 

Oh, crap.  That was the girl I dated for a few weeks last summer.  I’d pretty much forgotten about that.  That’s what she was mad about?  That I broke things off with her friend?

“Yeah…we broke up like 7 months ago?”

“Broke up, ha,” Audrey glared at me, “Is that what you call it?”

I mean kind of.  That’s like the definition, “Yeah?”

“She told me that you ghosted her and ran off with some other girl.  You’re a cheater TJ Kippen, and you didn’t have the decency to even break things off for real.”

Okay, I admit I didn’t know how this whole dating thing worked, but we barely saw each other that last week we “dated”—if you could even really call it that considering we really just hung out and didn’t do anything other than hold hands like twice—and she…I don’t know, we were barely dating, I didn’t see how she needed a formal like sit down break up.

But the other thing, definitely not true.

“Who said that?”

Her eyebrows rose at me, accusatory, “So it’s true?”

“No, it’s definitely not true." I stammered, still sort of shocked.  All of this was so dumb. "I-I haven’t dated anyone since Maddie, so whoever told her that I cheated on her is lying.”

Audrey slightly deflated at that, sighing, “Well, Maddie told me you cheated.”

I blushed, feeling uncomfortable and awkward, “Look, I admit I didn’t really break things off in like a good way, but I definitely didn’t leave her for some other girl.  You can tell her that, if she hates me so much.”

Audrey was now not even looking at me.  Which I still don't think is fair.

“Are we like…okay now?”

She turned to glare at me, “Of course not.”

What now?

“You’re still a jerk, and I still don’t want to speak to you.”

“What did I ever do to you?”

“Nothing.  But it doesn’t matter.  The point stands that you’re still a jerk.”

Okay, now I was getting annoyed.

“No I’m not, and that’s not fair." I whined, before immediately sighing self-consciously, "I…I think I’m kind of a nice person.”

She rolled her eyes, “Being nice to the people you like doesn’t make you a nice person, it makes you nice to your friends.”

I stared at her.  Frozen.

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore.  And I won’t talk to you during class, so like…leave me alone,” she paused, “I’m leaving now, I need to go get lunch.”

Being nice to people you like doesn’t make you a nice person.

It makes you nice to your friends.

I mean I admit I could be a little bit like…I didn’t care about the people I didn’t care about, but wasn’t that normal?  Didn’t everyone else do that?

But I was guilty of it because I was "popular"?

I lost myself in my own thoughts as I headed towards the cafeteria too.

“Dude!  Did you seriously just cut right now?” Some 8^th grader scoffed as I stood in line for food.  I immediately turned towards the sound in complete confusion.  Some girl was glaring at me.

“Oh, uh…I didn’t,” I paused.  What, I didn’t notice?  Wasn’t that sort of Audrey’s point?  Was I so into myself I didn’t even notice stupid little things like when I cut in line?  I had no defense, so I sort of stood there stupidly before I stepped behind her, “Uh, sorry.”

I hadn’t fully realized I’d been consumed by my own thoughts until I approached our table.

“What’s with the face?” Connor offered, chuckling.

In no mood for their jokes, I shrugged at them.  I wanted to just eat my lunch in peace.

“Is somebody on their lady day?” Reed teased.

I glared at him, “Screw you.”

“Yup, definitely lady day.” Reed smirked, though apparently already disinterested in the topic, he turned back towards the group.

“Damn, whoever stopped the dress code from happening deserves an award,” Jack beamed in that predatory tone of his, “Those leggings are doing Nia all the favors.”

I didn’t even have it in me to look towards whoever the heck they were talking about.

I don’t know, did I want them to ask me why I was upset?  Would they even understand?  Would they care?

Yet a small part of me still wanted to talk to somebody.

I mean, I knew I had some not so good parts of me sometimes, and I knew some people didn’t really like me—but those were usually the people I’d done something to—but hating me by reputation, for the first time, it sort of hurt.

I’m not saying I was desperate for everyone to love me.

But I don’t know, I didn’t like that people were judging me before they even met me.  I hated that they talked about me at all.

Didn’t I do that to Buffy?

Ugh, I hated the guilt.  I hated knowing that I’d messed up and had no one to blame but myself.

By the time I pulled myself out of my own thoughts I realized they were still talking about girls.

“Do you think if I asked Gen if I could walk her to lunch, she’d say yeah?” Connor smiled in this sort of dopey lovesick smile, “I mean, she smiles at me during class.  I really think I have a shot.”

Gen smiled at everyone.  She was one of the nicest people I knew.  And truth be told, she was too good for Connor.

“My partner in history, she basically won’t talk to me.” I finally whispered, bothered by the fact that I was still bothered by it at all.

But maybe the thought of spending 4 whole weeks sitting next to someone who hated me for barely any reason, made me feel attacked.

Dang, I did do the same thing to Buffy.

“And?”

“She said it was ‘cause I cheated on and dumped her friend last summer.”

“TJ Kippen, cheat at anything?” Reed snickered.

That was fair.  And I deserved the sarcasm.  I cheated off of my partners in math, still, like literally all the time.

 “Well I didn’t cheat.  And we didn’t even really date…just like hung out and stuff.”

“You know how girls get though, they want to claim you,” Connor offered, “How’d you break up?”

I shrugged, “We just sort of slowly stopped texting and trying to hang out.  I think she went on vacation.  Next thing I know it was the school year and she looked at me like she didn’t even know who I was.” I paused, “The point is, she went and complained to her friends about me or something and now they think I’m some big jerk.”

Reed shrugged, “Who cares.  Some girl’s opinion is nothing.”

“I know,” It should be nothing, but it wasn’t, “It just bothers me.  And like…makes me annoyed that she won’t even work with me for class stuff.”

Reed shrugged again, “It’s what like a month?  I’m sure you can handle it.”

I guess, but it didn’t feel all that relieved about it.  I wanted it resolved.  I wanted to fix things.  But I didn’t even know how.

And like clockwork they were onto a different topic. 

I don’t know if it was everyone’s inability to focus on one thing for long, or this was their nice way of saying they didn’t care anymore, but either way I was stuck with my thoughts.

I don’t even know why I was feeling bad about Maddie.  Or why I let the whole situation get to me.  I didn’t even really like Maddie to begin with.  It made me feel special and kind of cool, knowing someone liked me.  I got caught up in it. She wanted something, and me being sort of excited about the whole thing went along.  I mean, I was about to be in 7^th grade, and I had a girlfriend.  I was the first of us to get a girlfriend.

But then everything settled and we were three weeks into daily text conversations and maybe one or two actual hang out days and I just…didn’t get it.  I wasn’t even sure if I even liked her as more than a friend.  She wasn’t all that interesting to talk to or hang out with anyways.

So when she went off for her family vacation and started to get busy, I just sort of stopped texting her.  And yeah, looking back I should have broken things off in person, but it’s not like she ever reached out to me, or even made it clear that she was upset with the whole situation.  I thought maybe she didn’t want to be around me anymore.  I didn’t really think about it.

Not until the beginning of this school year, when I said hi to her in the hallway and she completely ignored me.

I don’t know, I guess I didn’t really care.  I’d convinced myself she didn’t remember me.

But I guess she did.

Whatever.  It was stupid.  None of them are worth my time.

Yet, I’m still sort of bothered by Audrey.  I mean, I could talk to her.  But I’m not really even sure how.  Maybe I’d bring this up to Billie, she always seems to know what to do.

I caught myself glancing around the cafeteria, trying to distract myself from my own thoughts.  It was sort of comforting to know everyone sat in the same seats every day. 

In a corner of the cafeteria, closer to the windows I caught sight of Cyrus and his friends.

Cyrus.  He looked so happy.  And animated.  His arms were flailing about, he was clearly relaying some story.

He sort of always talked like that, I think, with his hands.  But I liked it.  It was like every time he spoke, he spoke with his whole soul.

Hm, maybe I could talk to him about my problem.  I’m sure he’d have some great solution.  He’d probably tell me to talk to her or something.

But he’d definitely listen.  He’d turn to me to make sure that I knew that I had his full attention, and he’d stare at me with those big brown eyes, the kind that stares into your soul.  It’s scary but at the same time makes me feel so oddly and completely understood.  He’d just listen.  Let me say whatever I had to say, and offer something to make the situation seem somehow doable.

“TJ?”

I heard my name, like someone whispering it off in the distance.  I pretended to turn towards it, but to be fair, I wasn’t all that convinced that someone had actually said it.

“TJ.” The voice returned, firmer this time.  And suddenly I realized I hadn’t been paying attention at all, Reed was calling me.  He looked sort of annoyed.

“Huh?”

“Bro, do you need a nap or something?  You’re out of it.”

I tried to process his words, honestly, yet some weird part of me still felt drawn to the other table.

“Uh…” was all I could manage.

Uh, was also all I could process as Andi sort of shifted in her seat.  For a moment my attentions returned to their Cyrus before I noticed an familiar mane of curly black hair.

My stomach dropped before my brain could even process what was going on.

And then it sort of hit me.  It felt like someone had punched me in the gut.

Buffy was here, at Jefferson Middle.  Buffy, for whatever reason, was not in Arizona.

I didn’t even realize I sat straight in my seat until the table looked at me in sheer confusion.

“Guys,” I whispered, as if this was some big secret, “Buffy’s back.”

“Who?” Lester offered.

“Buffy Driscoll, she played on our basketball team?”

Connor and Jack immediately turned towards her table of friends.  And I was suddenly thankful that no one at her table noticed a small army of boys staring at her.

And all at once, the guilt hit me again.  Buffy Driscoll was back.  And I was the jerk who ruined things for her right before she left.

And I’d be the jerk she’d ignore for the rest of the school year.

And just like with Audrey, I didn’t like that feeling.

Chapter Text

Once basketball season ended, the school year seemed to somehow fly by.  The team had done well—making it to all the way to the semifinals of playoffs before losing to the Raptors—but still, the school year seemed to sort of stumble awkwardly yet surprisingly quickly as it neared ever closer to summer break.

In a way I was sort of sad by it all, like I hadn’t really done enough during the school year.

There were these really small pangs of regret, ones that I felt mostly when Reed and I would go to watch Jack’s baseball games.  I’m not sure I regretted my decision not to play baseball anymore, but some small part of me sort of missed it.  The was the first real time I wasn’t playing multiple sports in a year, and it felt like I was missing a part of myself.

Like I wasn’t busy enough or something.

I couldn’t really mourn baseball much longer either though, because they only had a couple weeks of games left before their season ended too.

All in all, I think I’m mostly ready for the summer.  Ready to sleep in.  Ready to prepare for two—maybe 3 if I did well enough—motorcross meets in the next two months, now that I had the time for them. 

But mostly, I was ready to not concern myself with school—kind of.

I’m not really sure how it ended up already being May, but here we were.  And somehow I was coming out of Math with a C+ in the class.  It wasn’t an A, sure, but I’d worked really hard for that C+.  And most importantly, I didn’t need to repeat the class—though I did need to do 3 weeks of Summer School.

Sometimes I couldn’t believe that I got out of the whole math situation as smoothly as I did—I definitely didn’t deserve it, all things considered.  But I passed, and I was getting help. 

Plus, It’s not like math got any easier, but it just…it felt doable now.

It was a Thursday night, and I was mostly through my English homework.  I was letting myself be distracted by my dad and my sister, who were busy baking in the kitchen, when my sister started belting like we weren’t indoors.

I smiled at the sound of her voice; I’d probably care more that she was singing loud enough to definitely distract me from my homework, but at least she was a pretty good singer and it was fun watching them bake together.  Plus, I sort of wanted to be distracted.  It was just reading for English.

And look, I’m not saying my dad came home stressed every day.  And I’m not saying that my dad always made pastries when he was stressed.  But dang, it sure felt like my dad was baking almost every day.

Truthfully it was like 3 times a week the past few weeks, but still.

According to him they had a big project they’d been working on the past few months that seemed to be one setback after another, and with the deadline coming up in two weeks—things were coming down to the wire.

I’m mildly concerned for his sanity, to be honest.  It really must be a stressful project if he’s been baking this much lately.

The solution, obviously, is for my mom to stop buying him baking supplies. Honestly, it had gotten to the point where he had a whole section of the fridge entirely dedicated to all his treats.

It was a miracle that none of us were diabetic at this point, but lord knows our family was made of sugar addicts so I think my mom encouraged his coping mechanism purely out of her own selfishness.

Truth be told, he’s sort of the baker and chef around our house, but with his job, she’s sort of had to handle feeding us the past few years.

As her repertoire is barely up to 5 meals now, needless to say it’s been a lot of microwaveable meals since I started middle school.

In either case, the baked goods, that was very much my father’s territory, and we all lived for it.

“I’ve lived a life that’s full/ I’ve traveled each and every highway/but more, much more than this/ I did it mmmyyyy way.” Billie chirped as she slinked throughout the kitchen.

My dad chuckled at her.  It was a Frank Sinatra day.  The world was good.

Today they were experimenting with whatever flavors they could find and throwing them into several muffin batters.

The kitchen smelled like cinnamon and fruit and batter, it was great.

TJ: My sister is dancing around our kitchen RN singing Frank Sinatra lol

Underdog: You have a sister?!

TJ: Yeah

I guess I didn’t talk about my family much.  I just sort of assumed people knew I wasn’t an only child.  Or, I guess I assumed people didn't really care.  But Cyrus’ dramatics over it did sort of make me smile.

Underdog: Older? Younger?  A man needs to know these things.

TJ: Older, she’s 16.  You’re an only child right?

Underdog: Somehow, shockingly.  Which is sort of a bummer sometimes, especially if I have a bad day, ‘cause then I have 4 parents checking in on me.

TJ: That sounds like a good thing.  You have 4 parents that love you and care about you.

Underdog: No, it is.  It’s just…sometimes a person wants to keep things to himself, you know?

I glanced up at my sister and my dad, neither really minding anything but each other.  It was nice seeing them both so relaxed.  They sort of took after each other in the stress department—honestly they fed off of each other’s stress—and understandably so, it had been a while since I’d seen either of them relaxed.

TJ: Yeah, I get it.

Underdog: So…how’s life at casa de Kippen?

TJ: Casa de Kippen?

Underdog: I’m doing my Spanish homework right now.  I’m inspired.

I glanced at my family members again.  And then down at my homework.  I still had 3 whole pages of reading and at least 3 “optional” questions left.  With Cyrus distracting me, it was never going to get done.

Yet I was the one more than eager to continue the conversation, so really I had no one to blame for my distraction than myself.

Against, my better judgment, I pressed him.  Suddenly bothered by something that had been on my mind for the past month and a half.

TJ: Hey, Cyrus.  Can I ask you something?

He took longer than usual to respond, and to be quite honest, I couldn’t even use the time to finish my reading.  The pause gave me that much anxiety.

Finally, he responded.

Underdog: What’s up?

TJ: Am I a bad person?

Underdog: What are you talking about? 

TJ: Idk.  I was just thinking about things.  And I guess I realize people are sort of scared of me, or think I’m a bad guy.

Underdog: I’m sure people don’t think that.

TJ: But you did.  At the swings.  You called me Scary Basketball Guy.  And I don’t think you learned that from Buffy.  I know Buffy isn’t scared of me.

Underdog: I will admit…I found you intimidating when we first met.  But I mean, you’re captain of the basketball team.  You walk around school like you own it.  You’re so confident.

I wasn’t confident, and maybe I did walk around the school like I owned it, but that was entirely because I didn’t care enough to…what was I going to say?  That I didn’t care what people thought of me?  That I only looked confident because I didn’t let other people get in my way?

It wouldn’t be true.  Yeah in some ways I didn’t care, but I also cared way too much that people saw exactly what I wanted them to see.

TJ: I don’t know if I want to be that person anymore, I guess.  The dude everyone is scared of.  I just…I realize I hurt a lot of people I didn’t really mean to and I don’t like people going around thinking that I’m some bad person.

Underdog: Of course you’re not a bad person.

TJ: Of course you think that Cy, you see the good in everyone.

Underdog: That’s because there IS good in everyone.

TJ: Why do people think I’m mean?

Underdog: Well I mean, sometimes you give off this…uh…like resting mean face?  I know I thought you were scary at first.

TJ: Did you really? I’m so sorry.

Underdog: What do you have to be sorry for?  You’re not scary.

I smiled at that.

TJ: That’s good to know :).

Underdog: In fact, upon further reflection, I’ve come to the conclusion that you have a nice face.

I blushed.  I knew what he meant, but I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he also thought I had a nice face.

If we’re being honest, actually, he really did have a nice face.  Like yeah, he looked nice in the way people can be nice; but also, behind the long limbs and self-conscious way he held himself, he was sort of…handsome?

I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before.

I could say that right?  I mean, it’s clear that he wasn’t aware of it.  He should be.  And like, it was true.

I smiled to myself, but I hoped to God my sister didn’t notice.  She’d ask questions.  She was nosy that way.

In any case, I meant to ask him a serious question, and him saying I had a nice face put me off track.

TJ: Cyrus, can I ask you something else?

Underdog: Ask away TJ ...

TJ: Be honest

Underdog: And now I’m starting to get concerned.

TJ: I know you said it was in the past but...Buffy…she told you not to talk to me after the whole homework situation, right?  I mean, I’d get it.  She’s your best friend, and I was a jerk.

Underdog: Um…

The second text came in quickly, yet still the hesitation killed me.

Underdog: Yeah, sort of.  She didn’t talk to me for days after she found out.

Underdog: But we worked things out, and talked and she said she wasn’t going to stop us from being friends.

I don’t know how I was supposed to feel.  I already knew this.  I still felt sort of bad about it all.

TJ: So she made you choose?

Underdog: I mean, I don’t know if I’d say it like that.  Plus, I’d rather not choose at all.  I want to be friends with both of you.

TJ: Are we friends?  You want to be my friend?

Underdog: Of course we are, TJ.  And of course I do.

I don’t know why, but that thought gave me a sense of relief I didn’t know I even wanted.  He wanted to be friends with me.  He wasn’t just being nice.

TJ: I really do feel bad for the way things happened with Buffy.  I wish I could make up for it, but she won’t even look at me in the hallways.

Cyrus didn’t say anything for a while.  At which point I anxiously returned to my reading.  This time, I was able to at least skim the pages just well enough that I could fake some answer for the last few questions on my homework.

By the time I finished the questions, my phone was vibrating with several unopened text messages.

Underdog: So I have a proposition for you.

Underdog: If you’re up for it.

Underdog: Know, you’re entitled to say no.  But also know, I am the king of planning!

I chuckled at that.

“Don’t you have homework, little bro?” Billie interrupted my thoughts.  She was sort of just staring at me from across the kitchen table.  I don’t even know when she sat there.

I glared at her, “Don’t you?”

She shrugged, “I finished my homework before dad even got home.”

I shrugged at her, “Okay.”

“Who ya’ talking to?” She smiled at me in that nosy sort of way I almost expected.

“None of your business,” I rolled my eyes at her, attempting to put away my English homework in my backpack.

“Aw, you’re no fun.”

She shrugged at me, evidently over it.

I sighed, “My friend Cyrus.”

“Cyrus?” She leaned forward, genuinely interested, “That’s the guy who’s Bar Mitzvah you went to, right?” She paused, “When are you going to invite him over? I want to meet this friend of yours.”

“Who are you, mom?” I scoffed at her.

She shook her head, “No, just nosy.  Genuinely don’t believe you’re capable of retaining friendships with actual decent human beings.  So clearly Cyrus has to be dumb.”

I was immediately defensive, though I knew I shouldn’t be, “He’s not dumb.”

“Ignore Billie,” my dad finally interrupted, “She’s just trying to distract us from the fact that she refuses to let us meet her new boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she paused, suddenly annoyed, “He’s just…an idiot who doesn’t realize I like him.”

My dad rose an eyebrow at her, “If he’s dumb enough to let you slip away, he’s not worth it.”

We both turned our heads towards our dad.  He wasn’t exactly known for his sage wisdom—though I guess he was known for his sarcastic comments—so whatever this was, it came out nowhere.

“Who are you?!” Billie yelped, backing away from dad in her seat.  I chuckled at that, she was so dramatic.

My dad shrugged, “If you’re gonna’ date, at least chose someone worth your time and effort.”

“Where is the overprotective man that told me I wasn’t allowed to date until I’m 30?”

“That hope died the day you hit 13 and mom let you have that middle school boyfriend thing.”

“His name was Ricky, and I still contest that if he hadn’t moved we would have been soulmates.”

“You can always find him on FaceRange,” I accused.

“If you don’t shut up I’m gonna find your friend and friend him on FaceRange.”

Without thinking, I replied, “He’d probably like that, honestly.”

She smirked at me.

Oh no.  That was dumb.

*          *          *          *          *

I was busy practicing some trick shots in the gym, periodically checking my phone for any sign of a text message from Cyrus.

So far, nothing.

I guess I sort of expected him to update me every other minute.  That was sort of his personality.

But then again, Buffy would get suspicious if he kept texting someone, so I guess I’d just have to wait.

Finally, my phone vibrated.

Underdog: Around the corner.  To your mark!

He was so excited for this.  And maybe it was because he was excited; maybe it’s because I was ready to sort of let all of this go and move on, but I was excited too.

And nervous, because for all of our big ideas the past two weeks, all of this sort of ended up getting thrown together last minute; so for Cyrus being the ‘King of Elaborate Plans’, we didn’t really plan well at all.

And then I heard the door to the gym open.  I quickly scurried to a corner, praying that Buffy wouldn’t see me until she was supposed to.

“What are we doing here?” She sounded so confused.  I didn’t blame her.  Cyrus didn’t really strike me as a good liar, so I’m sure whatever he came up with as an excuse was way too elaborate and complicated to possibly make sense.

The fact that she hadn’t already caught on, was a miracle.

“I just gotta’ grab something from my locker.  I’ll be right back.”

And with that he was off.  And she’d turned around to look at the scoreboard behind her.

I figure now was my best shot.  Taking a deep breath, I started to approach her, dribbling the basketball as I guiltily sort of swaggered towards her.

She immediately froze.  It was subtle, but I could sense that she genuinely feared turning around.  She probably knew it was me.

Sure enough, she started to speak before she even turned to face me, “Well, well,” she paused, smirking at me, looking so proud of herself, “if it isn’t Jock-iavelli.  Don’t hurt your brain trying to figure it out.”

I actually did know that one.  And honestly, I sort of had to give her credit for the insult.  It was so oddly specific…but I guess not wrong?  In any case, the insult backfired on her.  Just because I sucked at math, didn’t mean I was dumb.  It was a low blow, and she knew it, and for that I’d genuinely find pleasure in cutting her down.

“Machiavelli,” I immediately retorted, smirking, “evil Italian politican.”

“Lucky guess.”  Her voice lowered, embarrassed.

Now was my turn to be humble.  I was ready for it, I’d been holding in the guilt for months now, “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I got a two game suspension for you doing my homework.”

She smirked at me, but her smile didn’t really assure me.  It was this evil smile, one that made me feel like she was only tolerating me because she had to.

Still, my idiotic self didn’t really consider the jerkiness of my words until they left my mouth.  I mentally slapped myself. I could feel the smile, “I’m back on the team now.”

Again, she didn’t quite seem genuine, but she smiled, “Good for you.”

Trying to rectify my idiocy, I lowered my voice, attempting to sound as genuine as I felt, “But I hear you’re not coming back.”

She scoffed, “Why do you care what I do?”

“Well, ‘cause you’re good,” and it was true.  I don’t know why it took me so long to admit it.  I’d be damned if she was good enough for Coach to offer her the Captain spot next season, but that didn’t negate the fact that she was a talented athlete. 

Still, I couldn’t help myself, plus I remembered that I was purposefully trying to annoy her.  Not to mention I still thought I was better, even though I genuinely believed it to be true that she was scary good.  I smirked, at her, “I mean, not as good as me…but, pretty good.”

“I’m not as good as you?” She scoffed, and at that point I knew I’d started to upset her.  Perfect.  The beautiful part of our plan was that it was literally my job to upset her.  And it was going by much easier than I could have hoped.  She was just like me; we’re weak to being challenged.  We just can’t help ourselves, “And you know that, how?”

“If you thought you were, you’d be coming back to the team.”

Because like it or not, the team just didn’t play as well after she left.  It annoyed me to admit it.  But the whole team knew it was true.

“What’s the game here, TJ?” She glared at me, sounding like she was growing tired of my ‘bullying’, “You’re trying to make me mad, why?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Cyrus enter through one of the gym doors.

Shoot.  I needed to challenge her quick.

It was too late, Cyrus was apparently an exceptionally fast walker…and talker, “Hey guys, what’s going on?” He glanced between us, “You gonna play some one-on-one or something?”

I leaned towards him, trying to pretend like Buffy wasn’t actually capable of hearing me, for the sake of…well my pride, I guess, “We aren’t there yet, Cyrus.”

He immediately cringed, “Oh, sorry.”

Buffy closed her eyes for a second, as if she was processing the stupidity between the two of us. 

I didn’t really blame her.  Our plan just crashed and burned within a matter of seconds.

Still, she turned to Cyrus, reaching for a pink bag in his hands, “I assume those are my gym clothes?”  She considered the idea for only a second before she turned to smile at me, this scary confidence in her eyes, “Great.  It’s on.”

She didn’t hesitate as she immediately began to walk away, gym bag in hand. 

Her competitiveness got the best of her, like we knew it would, she’d never resist the opportunity to potentially beat me in one-on-one.  And sure enough, she seemed almost too eager for the chance.  She swaggered away as she headed towards the lockers, “That was a pathetic ambush.”

I immediately turned to join Cyrus’ side as we watched her walk away.

He leaned towards me as he whispered, “This is why I wanted to rehearse.”

I guess it was my fault that we didn’t, but I guess I wanted it to be a surprise.   Looking back, we probably should have though.

She changed pretty quickly, and within a minute she approached us.  Cyrus was busy trying to negotiate a white board.

“Shoot for ball?” She offered.

“No,” I taunted, “you take it.  And enjoy it.  Because once I get it, you’re never gonna’ see it again.”

“You’re pretty confident for a guy who’s…” she was off her game.  I wonder if I could leverage her sarcasm enough to distract her playing ability.  She considered her words, as she realized she had nothing to say, “usually pretty confident.”  But she quickly recovered, “Let’ s just start.”

It was set then.  “Make it, take it. First to seven, win by two.”

Cyrus immediately looked overwhelmed, “Yeah, I was gonna’ keep score, but you lost me already.”

I’d consider the fact that I was gladly friends with someone so non-athletic later, right now I needed to make sure I didn’t get myself beat by a girl.  Trying to retain a semblance of confidence, I uttered, “Listen, I’m not gonna’ hold back.  I’m gonna’ play at my game, and if you can’t keep up—”

She immediately took my opportunity to gloat, to make a shot.  Smirking at me as she held up a finger, “That’s one.”

Dammit.

Then suddenly she was up by two.

As the game continued on, I continued to grow more frustrated.  I was competitive sure, but I was always at a deficit.  The moment I tied it up, she immediately responded with another basket.

I needed to step up, and soon.

And she looked so relaxed.

And before I knew it, she was taunting me, “I’m about to win.”

“Lol.”

“You played a pretty good game.” She smirked.

“Not over yet,” I grumbled, the sweat starting to pour over my face.

But suddenly she cut away from me, and I could only watch in horror as her feet moved swiftly towards the basket.  I lunged for her as she attempted a lay-up but it was too late.

She’d made the shot.

She’d won.

She stared at me, quietly proud of herself before she finally gloated, “I win!”

Out of nowhere, we heard Cyrus yell, “You won?  You won!  I knew you would win!  You won.”

And boy did I underestimate Buffy and Cyrus’ friendship, because that boy full on sprinted—arguably the most athletic thing I’d seen him do since I met him, into Buffy’s arms.

I’m not gonna’ lie, the sight of pure love and support he gave her was the cutest damned thing I’d seen in a while.  He looked so proud.

Still, I was mildly annoyed that it was aimed at her.

Do they call that jealousy?

What, did I want Cyrus to run into my arms like that?

“Nice game, TJ.  You played hard.” I offered, pretending to have a conversation with myself,  as I glanced towards an invisible version of myself, “Oh, thank you TJ.”

“It really was a good game.” She smiled.

For her maybe.

“First one-on-one I ever lost.” I grumbled.

“So my beautiful, if under-rehearsed plan, worked!”  He was so proud of himself.

Buffy looked genuinely confused, “What was that?”

As if it was obvious, he continued, “To prove that you and TJ could play basketball together!  And you did.  And you won!”

I’ll give her credit where credit is due, sure.  If I was going to lose to anyone, I’m sort of glad it was her.  She was this strong force that I was slowly learning to respect.  Still, I’d appreciate if she kept her mouth shut; I glanced between both of them warningly, “Not that anyone needs to know that.”

“And now,” Cyrus assured her, “no more nonsense about you not rejoining the team.  You’re definitely rejoining the team.”

“No,” she affirmed, “I’m not.”

That was dumb.  She was too good to not play with anyone, “You’re just gonna’ quit playing basketball?”

“Of course not,” she chuckled, “I’m still going to play.”

What like on a low-tier recreation team?

“I don’t get it.”

“Is there some other team we don’t know about?”

“I didn’t want to say anything until it was official,” she beamed at both of us, “but I just got permission.”  She took the basketball from my hand, “I’m starting a girls’ basketball team.”

“That’s a brilliant plan!” Cyrus beamed as well, so proud of her, “which eclipses even my brilliant plan.”

Okay, that was pretty badass.

“Driscoll,” I smiled at her, doubly impressed by her now, “You got moves.”

She smirked at me, “Thank you.”

We’d retreated to the stands, where our bags were.  Where Cyrus continued to hug her, and I reached for my phone.

Apparently I had like 3 text messages from my sister.

Sis: So I gotta run errands, so when I pick you up, you’re coming along.

Sis: Ok, the truth is, the prom dress I ordered in the mail is trash, so I just gave it away to the thrift store.  And now I need to go to Midtown to get a new one before tomorrow.  So therefore.  Road trip.  Second opinion?  I’m too lazy to drive you home.  I’ll bribe you with like…dinner or one of those stupid basketball t-shirts mom keeps getting you or something.

Sis: I’ll be there in 10 minutes.  Please don’t make me wait.  I don’t even know if the store will still be open by the time we get there.

I glanced at them awkwardly, “Uh…maybe I should change.  I gotta’ head out pretty soon.”

Buffy glanced down at her own outfit, “Yeah, my dad would kill me if he thought I went outside in this,” she paused, “It’s way too cold to pretend like I can.”

The two of us went to change in our respective locker rooms quickly before we both met Cyrus at the gym door leading to the inside of the school.

It was sort of nice, the three of us walking.  It almost felt normal.

As we finally reached the front of the school, Cyrus began to speak.

He glanced between the two of us eagerly, though it also looked like he was trying to convince himself too, “I mean, the good part about this is that we can all be friends now.  Right?”

Almost too eagerly, I shot out,  “I can.”

Buffy scoffed at me, “‘Cause I’ve never done anything horrible to you..." The guilt hit me again as she got this sadness in her voice as she glanced at me, "like what you’ve done to me.”

I shrugged at her, realizing I still had a lot of work to do before things would be okay between us.  And I don't know, maybe I wanted to be her friend.  She was sort of really cool—for a girl, “Valid point.”

To my surprise, she followed my words with, “I could forgive you." She chuckled, "I think I already have.  I just…don’t know if we could ever be friends.”

Cyrus, ever the mediator, glanced between us as we continued to walk forward.  I could feel the distance between us close, our arms grazed as we continued to walk forward, and for a moment I could think of nothing else.

He was so close.  Why couldn't I breath?  Why couldn't I think?

“What if he apologized?"

Buffy smirked at Cyrus, “It would have to be like the best apology ever.”

Maybe it's because I was Cyrus was so determined.  Or maybe it's because I'd worked over in my head for a really long time now how I might apologize to her without saying the words 'I'm sorry'.  Or maybe, a rap seemed stupid and silly enough to work.

Or maybe I just wanted to shock both of them.

All I knew, is that whatever fear I had about looking stupid in front of the both of them ended the moment Cyrus' hand grazed mine and he said, "I mean, give it a shot."

Without any more hesitation, I turned to face both of them, and let the words flow.  It was time, I'd rehearsed it like 50 times.

“If you’re looking for a captain, her name’s Buffy Driscoll/  Gonna start a girls’ team and make that ish official/  Steal your ball so fast that you wanna bring police in/Tell them it got taken like she’s Liam Neeson/  The slickest, sickest, quickest, the most wicked in the world/  Used to hate her, instigate her, told her ‘Good job for a girl’/  I didn’t want to hear it, but she taught me all the same/  If you wanna change the world then you gotta change the game.”

Cyrus and Buffy glance at me with jaws dropped.  Slight smiles on their faces.

It had worked.

Cyrus was staring at me absolutely in awe, this pride in his eyes, “Was that the best apology ever?”

Buffy, smirked at me, evidently impresssed,“I think maybe it was.”

Self conciously, I let out a weak, “So, we’re good?”

“Yeah," she smiled, "I think we are.”

“Cool." I returned the smile, so so relieved, "I’ll see you around then.”

I offered her another smile before I turned to leave, before stealing a momentary glance at Cyrus.  Like I might never see him again or something.

Some part of me told me to say something, anything to him.  But no words found themselves in my head or on my lips.

So instead, I started to walk away.

I knew for a fact that Billie was already waiting.  I’m honestly surprised she hadn’t started honking from her spot in the loading zone.  I could see her car.  I could even see her glaring at me, but I still had well over 30 yards before I was even close to her.

I smiled to myself, so proud of how today went.  Buffy forgave me.  Even maybe considered me a friend.  I had an ally, a person who was genuinely a good person, and nice to me despite everything.  And I don't know, if I learned anything from this school year, from being friends with Cyrus, it was that maybe I didn't really have real close friends like I thought I did.  And seeing Cyrus with his own friends, the sheer loyalty, the fact that they never tried to be anything except for themselves, it made me desperate for something that even looked like that a little.

I had been an idiot for being so horrible to her before, she was sort of cool in her own way.

I saw why Cyrus adored her.

Maybe it was knowing we had a long weekend ahead of us, maybe it was me surveying the fact that a weight had just been lifted off my shoulders.

I’m not really sure what possessed me to do it, but halfway to my sister’s car, I started to turn towards them.  To prove that they were really there, I guess.  That this had all really happened.

Instead, my eyes immediately locked with Cyrus’.  He looked completely shocked, still.  The thought brought a smile to my face.

Yeah, Cyrus didn’t know me, but the rest of the school year and summer, and hopefully for a log time after that; I decided it was my mission to continually surprise him.  To be the type of person, he wanted to figure out.

I wanted to be the type of person who shocked him in the best way.  He expected so little of me, sometimes—even though he genuinely believed me to be a good person—that, I don’t know, I guess I wanted to really look like that good person he thought I was.

Proud of myself for today, and happy that I both got to resolve things with Buffy and spend time with a guy that was quickly becoming one of my closest friends, I felt like I floated towards her car.

At the site of my apparently dopey face, my sister’s annoyed glare immediately softened.

She looked like she wanted to say something, but surprisingly, she said nothing.

Considering I didn’t say anything in regards to her driving me all the way to Midtown for something that didn’t involve me on a Friday afternoon, she let out a quiet sigh, before turning her music back on.

I was in a weird mood and we both knew it.  I don't know why she was being so cool about it, but I was thankful for it.

We were silent for a minute, as I enjoyed the weirdly eclectic playlist.  That one version of Hallelujah from Shrek, ‘Only Hope’ from A Walk to Remember...

“What playlist is this?”

“Songs Featured In Movies That Gave Feels.”

I chuckled, “Weirdly specific.”

“Well…feels.” She chuckled.

Neither of us said anything after that.  My sister was busy singing along to Mandy Moore’s vocals.

I was thinking, relaxing to the sound of her voice as I began to doze off in the seat, just enjoying the music.  This was sort of a good day, wasn’t it?

Classes had gone by quickly.  Reed, Lester, Jack, and I made plans to have a kickback at Jack’s tomorrow.  Buffy was no longer mad at me and forgave me.

And Cyrus?  My thoughts quickly went to Cyrus.  How in the world did I end up in a friendship with him?  How did I get so lucky?  And why did I want his friendship as bad as I did?

He hated sports, had absolutely no athletic bone in his body, he liked things like documentaries and looking up weird facts and coming up with songs and stories for everything.  He was too nice for his own good. 

I mean yeah he was weird, but in the best way.

By all accounts, we should have never crossed paths.  But I guess I have to thank Buffy for our introduction.  If she hadn’t asked me to get him that muffin all those months ago, we would have never met.  I would have never introduced myself to that awkward, honest, always scared looking kid in the park.

I would have never learned that he was braver than he realized, one of the bravest people I ever met.  Oddly confident in the sense that he owned his oddness.  He didn’t apologize for who he was, and I wished every day to be more like him.

I would have never met this amazingly nice, sweet guy who made me want to be better, made me want to make him proud.

Made me want to be around him.

There was just something about him that made me feel so calm, like I could be the most vulnerable around him and nothing I could ever say or do would make him run away.  I’d never met anyone like that.  I’d never really wanted to trust someone like that.  But with him it seemed so much less scary.

I was lost in my own thoughts, when the next song played.

I’d never heard it, but five seconds into the song, with the wistful simple guitar playing. I knew it would be some sappy love song.

And honestly, with the weird mood I was in, Billie's playlist title was accurate, it probably would give me the feels.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m stuck on a verse…

I’m stuck on a boy who fills me with joy. 

I knew I was wrong to jump straight on into this picture so pretty,

but he is so pretty to me.”

I sort of froze in my seat.  My stomach twisted.  I continued listening as the pervasive thought suddenly entered my mind.

I…did I like like Cyrus?  Was he a boy who filled me with joy?

Was it possible?  Was that was this was?

Was the embarrassment and the need to be his friend and…

…I thought about him a lot, didn’t I?

I got really weirdly happy whenever he was around.  And sometimes when he smiled, I’d forget what I was saying.

And…maybe once or twice when he gave me a compliment I got embarrassed in the blushy sort of way.

But that didn’t mean I had a crush on him right?

Like, was I even capable of that?

“And he doesn’t know just how far I would go, just to kiss him. 

He doesn’t know how I pine.”

Did I pine?  Did the idea of doing coupley things with him make me grossed out?

I mean, no…but it was Cyrus.

I mean, with him, it all sounded sort of…natural.

Did even thinking about considering it make me gay?

No…no it couldn’t.  I mean, Billie talked about ‘girl crushes’ all the time, that’s a normal thing.  People have those.  Guys could have 'guy crushes'.  And worse case, one of my mom’s oldest friends was bisexual.

I could be that, maybe?

But…I didn’t like boys.  I couldn’t like boys. 

Liking boys was impossible when…I wasn’t…I just wanted to be normal.  The idea of liking boys was scary and…I don’t know?

But then Cyrus’ face, his pretty smiling face, popped into my head.

I mean, maybe…maybe it was alright to like just Cyrus.  That didn’t really say anything about who else I liked.

But did I like Cyrus?

Did my heart race when I saw him or whenever I saw his name on my phone?  Did I admit to myself that I thought he was handsome?

Well, yeah…but…

“Haven’t you heard?  I’m stuck on a verse.  I’m stuck on a boy who fills me with joy.  I knew I was wrong to jump straight on into this picture so pretty.  But he is so pretty to me.”

Without even realizing it, I let out this heavy sigh.  I didn’t even realize my eyes were watering and my throat was burning; or that I was even holding my breath until I heard my own sigh.

My sister looked at me with genuine concern.

“You alright, Teej?”

What could I say?  That I thought I might have a crush on my friend, who was also a boy?  That there was even a small chance that I could be into boys?

That this wasn’t the first time I thought I might be, and today served as a terrifying sort of a confirmation for me?

I didn’t want it.  I didn’t want to deal with it.  I didn’t want the gut wrenching feeling that people told me came with crushes.  I didn’t want to have the fear of Cyrus even suspecting anything.

I didn’t want to admit that honestly, this might be my first crush ever.  And the thought that it was on someone that very well probably wasn’t even capable of liking me back was mortifying.

I could ignore it sure, but…I knew that the next time I saw Cyrus in person, or even the next time he texted me.  I’d know exactly how I felt, and why.  I never wanted him to text me again for fear of the answer, yet some guilty part of me also knew exactly how I’d react when he inevitably did.

And I wasn’t ready for that sort of confirmation.

I mean, what would people think?  What would the team think?  Or my friends?  Or my family?

What would Cyrus think?

No, I know Cyrus.  He’d hug me and tell me ‘I was exactly who I was supposed to be’ and love and care for and support me in the way real friends are supposed to.

But somehow, acceptance from other people was even scarier.  Acceptance from other people meant I had to accept it myself. 

I wasn’t ready to accept it, let alone admit it to myself.

How would I tell my sister why was almost in tears in the seat of the car?

Yet I also couldn’t bring myself to lie to her.  Because I was clearly emotional.

I shook my head, “Not really.  But…it’s fine.  I’ll be fine.”

She paused, awkwardly, “Do you…want to talk about it?”

I shook my head again, “No…not really.”

Chapter Text

There were two things that shocked me about today.

The first was that not only did my dad drive me all the way to the Lincoln, a town a good two hours from Shadyside, but that he had gone out of his way to make clear to his work that he wouldn’t be available for any reason all weekend.

He’d used his vacation days to take me to some dumb Motorcross event.

It was a two day event, considering I made it past preliminaries.  And, considering this was a state-wide event and a qualifier, there were hundreds of people here.

The goal was to make it past preliminaries, be in the top-15 for my age class in either race, so that I could qualify for one or both of the events I was hopefully competing in tomorrow.

Even though my dad had gotten a hotel for the weekend, under the impression that I would qualify, he’d at least assured me that if I didn’t, we’d make the most of the weekend and make a mini-vacation out of being in Lincoln.

Not that Lincoln was the best for touristy spots.

Still, I’d been under the impression that I was just hitching a ride with Reed and his parents up until last night, so the fact that my dad was investing this much time in me—especially considering neither him nor my mom really understood why I did motorcross in the first place—it made me really happy.  And I was honestly excited at even the idea of spending the weekend with him.

I don’t remember the last time I was this anxious.

I kept reminding myself that it wasn’t even the big race, and that I’d been prepping for this meet tirelessly for a month and a half—but some of these kids lived on the dirt, made racing their life.  They'd been prepping for this meet all year.

At best, I’d make the 15^th spot.  I had no shot of winning.  I had no right being here.

I pushed the thought to the back of my mind as I walked my bike over to our designated waiting space.  The race before us had only just finished, and they were busy prepping the course for us.

Reed, ever serious in the only thing that I think he ever took serious, was busy staring forward, ignoring everything and anything around him.

Lester…well he was somewhere in this mob, I wasn’t sure where.  I hadn’t seen him since this morning.

Before I could even process it, they were lining us up.  It all happened so quickly, flags were being waved, lights were flashing; we all took off without hesitation.

I didn’t let myself think about anything but the course itself until it was over.

It was all sort of a blur.

And the five minutes it took to confirm results were gut-wrenching.  Not to mention, Reed and I still had another event to complete in.  Maybe it wouldn’t even matter, based off of how poorly I scored at the last event months ago.  Our points accrued as we raced, if anything how I did months ago would hurt me even if I'd gotten 1st.

On this big neon board, the scores appeared without fanfare.

Reed was #12.  He qualified.  Of course he did.

I was #17.  I did not.

It was all up to the race later this afternoon.  Or else this whole trip was a bust.

“I don’t know how you always manage to find girls at these things,” Lester sighed, as Reed swaggered up to us, after chatting up a couple of the very few female racers here—a couple high schoolers from the age bracket above us.  I didn’t blame him for flirting, it’s not like there was much else to do right now.

Heck, my dad wasn’t even here.  He’d dropped me off this morning with the promise that he’d be back for my race.  And considering my only race wasn’t for another hour and a half, I still had a lot of down time to kill.

Between the three of us, Lester’s was the soonest.  His started in a half hour, a side effect of him being older than us, and in a higher age bracket.

Reed shrugged at him, throwing himself into his chair.  The three of us sort of stared at the collection of people in here.  We didn’t have to stay in this big tented waiting area they had for the racers, but considering how unfairly hot it was outside, it felt like almost everyone was in here. 

I ended up checking my phone, to see if my dad had texted me, only to be happily surprised to see I’d received a text from Cyrus.

Cy: I’m literally in Harry Potter.  I repeat.  Literally at the place where Harry Potter once stood.

The accompanying picture, a picture I assume taken by one of his parents, was one of an absolutely eager Cyrus Goodman smiling as he stood in front of “Hogwarts castle”.

I smiled at that.  I’d be excited too.

TJ: Enjoying your English vacation then?

Cy: It’s really not a vacation.  My parents really are here for work.

TJ: It’s still a vacation for you though haha.  I assume you’re not working.  Or are the labor laws different in the U.K.?

He didn’t respond immediately.  Not that I’d expected him to.

I mean, I wasn’t under the impression that he was obligated to respond to me.  I mean, we weren’t really that close.

Sure, we’d hung out at park and stuff like two times right after the school year ended, but between my Summer School and Cyrus going to England pretty much immediately after that, I hadn’t really seen him much.

Plus, with international data charges, I guess Cyrus was pretty reserved with how he communicated.  I should consider myself lucky he bothered me at all.

I guess, it would be me who would be the bother, considering I accidentally promised him one FaceRange call while he was in England at some point.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t remember that promise, because up until now he hadn’t pushed me on it.

But maybe that was because he’d sort of been radio silent since he left.  This was like the second time I heard from him since he left 3 weeks ago.

It was probably for the best considering I was still absolutely trying to figure things out.  And, you know, I didn't exactly want to figure things out.

As far as I was concerned, it was possible that I had developed maybe a little bit of an interest of some sort in Cyrus Goodman, but I was sure it was completely platonic with an ounce of misplaced affection.

Like that happened to people.  You think you like them, but really you were just emotionally attached.

Was I attracted to Cyrus Goodman?  Irrelevant.  And honestly I didn’t know.  I didn’t really try to look at him like that.  He was my friend, after all.

Did I think he was attractive? I mean yeah maybe, but like in an objective way.

Did I sort of miss him?  Yeah.  But like, who wouldn’t?  I’m sure his best friends did.  It was Cyrus Goodman.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, as if Lester and Reed could see what was going through my head, I decided to go get some water at the snack table.

I don’t know why, but I suddenly felt claustrophobic.

As I approached the table, I spotted another racer gleefully picking at the grapes and cheese still left from "brunch".

He must have caught me observing him because he smiled at me, chuckled to himself for a minute, and continued to pick several more grapes.

Before I’d even finished filling up my water bottle, he’d approached me.

“New racer?” This smooth low voice offered, I nearly jumped at the sound.

He chuckled at that.

I glanced up at him, shocked by my own bodily response as I attempted to offer an answer.  Upon realizing he acknowledged my presence, I couldn't think, “Oh…uh…no actually…I’m uh…I’ve been racing for like 3 years.  But um…mostly local stuff,” I paused, suddenly breathless, “This is my first ‘state’ event.”

He smiled at me, and I suddenly noticed how white his teeth where.

“That’s cool.  Nervous for your first ‘state’ qualifier?”

More than I should be, but that was definitely entirely due to the fact that I wasn’t as experienced as everyone else.

I shrugged, unable to say much.  This guy was making me nervous without my permission and I wasn’t even really sure why.

“I’m Anwar, by the way.”

He smiled again as he stuck a hand out to me.  And as my hand grazed his own, my vision flitted for one moment to his hand before returning to his face.

And that’s when it hit me.

This guy was gorgeous.  He had these unreal hazel eyes, and beautiful caramel skin, and this amazing smile.

“I’m TJ.” I forced a smile, attempting to chuckle to offset my nerves, “I’m uh…from Shadyside.”

“Shadyside? Really?” He pressed, “I’m from Midtown.  There’s a few of you from Shadyside, huh?  I didn’t realize your community was getting that big.”

I shrugged at that, “I…I wouldn’t really know.  A friend got me into the sport.  I guess, the race track is sort of a hang out I guess…so uh, it grows.”

“Cool, cool,” he smiled again, and without my permission my heart started to race, “What grade are you in, TJ? I’m a sophomore.”

“Ugh, I'm about to start 8th.” my voice cracked, betraying me.

“It’s always real cool seeing the younger kids come out here and race.” He paused, “I know that makes me sound like a billion years older than you…I just mean like…you see the kid races, it’s just fun to watch the younger ones.”

The stubborn part of me returned, “I’m not a kid.”

Anwar chuckled at that, his eyes observing me, “Obviously not.  You’re like almost 6 feet tall.” He considered his words, “I just mean…like 8^th grade-9^th grade is always the biggest age group and then people just stop racing.  So like…stick with it, you know?”

“Oh.”

He quickly made eye contact with somebody behind me.  Nodding towards them.

“Look, I gotta’ go,” Anwar offered, setting a hand on my shoulder.  I froze. “But introduce me to your friends.  I love meeting other racers, especially the younger ones.  Come find me later, I’ll try to introduce you to some of the Midtown crew.”

With that he was gone.

And I stood there confused, and flattered by his attention, and frozen by the fact that this pretty high school boy talked to me at all.

I don't know.  I didn't feel so wrong for a minute there.

I just knew I had a stupid sort of smile that I was just waiting for Reed to comment on.

Still holding my untouched bottle of water, I returned to find Reed sitting alone.

Lester had probably already left for his race.

Sure enough, Reed was staring at me in a way that unsettled me.

And honestly, it made me push the thought of Anwar—and uh, other thoughts—to the back of my mind.  I had to.  Reed would see right through it.

And hell, I didn't even know what he would see if he went looking.  Nothing really made sense right now.  I hated this.

“Who was that guy you were talking to?”

I shrugged, “Don’t know.  Some high schooler from Midtown.”

Reed offered an obviously fake shrug, “Hm…looked like you knew him.”

I shook my head, “Just met him.”

“Making other friends?” Reed teased, though I could hear an odd sort of anger in his voice, “Trying to replace me already?” He paused, “At least wait until we start going to different high schools.”

I rolled my eyes at him.  Sometimes he could be weird.  And weirdly territorial.

“Nobody could replace you, Reed.” I returned, heavy with the sarcasm.

Out of nowhere, he offered my phone to me, “You got a text from someone named Cy, by the way.”

I blushed at that, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

I gently grabbed the phone from his hand, putting my phone in my front pocket, “Oh, uh thanks.”

“Cy sent you like four text messages.”

My discomfort getting the best of me, I returned, trying not to sound defensive, “Did you go through my phone or something?”

He glared at me, “No.  Your phone just kept going off.  It was getting annoying.  So the last time I looked to see that it wasn’t your mom or something.”

“Oh.”

“Who’s Cy, anyways?" His voice got soft, "You talking to someone and didn’t tell us?”

“Uh no,” I blushed, “It’s my friend Cyrus.”

“Cyrus?” Reed countered, “Why does that name sound familiar?”

I shrugged, “He’s friends with the girl on the basketball team.  You probably wouldn’t know him unless you had a class with him.”

“So you're friends with basketball girl now?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know if I’d say that.  We don’t hate each other anymore, though.”

Against my own better judgement, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, and quickly began to scroll through his texts.

Sure enough, Cyrus had in fact sent four text messages in succession.

Cy: My dad and step mom said that next week, we’re going to explore all of London.  Big Ben!  Buckingham palace! The buses!  Parliament!  Words cannot describe how excited I am.

Cy: Okay, so it took nearly a month, but I’m finally getting to eat some proper “local” cuisine.  Something called ‘Nandos’.

Cy: If it’s not clear, this is like the best day ever.

Cy: Also, the british accent is the most beautiful elegant thing ever.  Well, french is pretty beautiful too…but seeing as how I already chose Spanish, is it too late for me to try French?  I’d love to speak in an accent if I could.

I smirked at that.  My god, he was so damn adorable.

TJ: Why don’t you haha?

When I looked back at Reed, he was staring at me with this suspicious glance on his face

“What?”

Reed shrugged, his lips making that ‘I’m pretending not to be thinking of anything but definitely judging you’ shape.

The thing about Reed was, he was self-involved and generally sort of manipulative; but he was also one of the most perceptive people I’d ever met.  He could read anyone accurately with very little introduction.  It was scary.  Great to witness sure, but whatever he was thinking scared me more than anything he could ever say with his surely carefully crafted response.  I needed to be really careful with how I responded to him now.  Either that or he'd have leverage on me forever.

“So you met him through basketball girl, then?”

“Not really,” I considered our first proper introduction, and recalling that swings were involved and I went out of my way to talk to some random kid I’d only met once—and then I remembered the part where I pushed him on the swings.  Oh god, not only would Reed make fun of me for playing on the swings like some 5 year old…I pushed another boy on the swings and…I guess that’s not like the straightest thing to do, is it?

No, no…Reed did not need an explanation as to how I met Cyrus.  He would definitely see it the wrong way.  He'd definitely see my discomfort and know exactly what was going on in my head.

Considering this, I finally sighed, “Well yeah, I guess…yeah we met through her.  But us being friends doesn’t really have anything to do with her.”  I chuckled, considering the ridiculousness of it, “Yeah, she hated us being friends.”

“So you became friends to piss her off?” Reed chuckled.

“No.” I paused, smirking, “But, looking back…it works.”

“Hey,” Reed suddenly got serious, his smile immediately dropping, “Just know.  At the end of the day, remember the people who were there for you.”

I scoffed at him, “I’m allowed to have other friends, dude.”

“That’s not,” he shook his head, his attention elsewhere.  He scoffed at me, “This isn’t about some dude your ‘besties’ with or something.  I’m just saying, I take loyalty seriously.”

He was being weird.  Was he jealous or something?

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, “Why are you being weird?”

Reed nodded his head towards a group of boys, one of which I immediately realized was Anwar.

I swallowed uncomfortably.  I really didn’t get what he was getting at, but somehow I was already feeling guilty.

“That dude you talked to over there, he’s from Midtown, yeah?”

I already didn’t like where he was going with this, “Yeah?”

“Just…don’t let ‘em like…manipulate or charm you.  Shadyside’s lost a lot of people to Midtown.”

“Huh?”

“Whatever they tell you, if they try to pull you in with talks of sponsorships and fancy clothes and equipment, don’t listen.  Only the top 3 for each comp bracket get that stuff.  Everyone else gets screwed over, leaves the sport, or ends up paying them money just to be on some fancy team.”

Oh.  This is what he was upset about.

“Did that happen to you?”

Reed glared at me, “Of course not.  I don’t need a team to sponsor me.  I’m independent, don’t plan on changing that.   Obviously, I can pay for it.  I don't need help like that.”

Aannnddd a-hole Reed was back.

After a moment’s pause, he did continue though, “I just…I know a lot people that I was cool with that got sucked in by Midtown and that squad.  It sucks for Shadyside and honestly ruins the sport.” He paused a second time, considering something, “I don’t know…I guess I’d be…not cool with you if I ended up losing an actual friend to them.”

I smirked at him.  And blushed for the smallest of seconds.  Reed actually sort of cared about me.  It felt nice.  I leaned forward and sort of shook his arm, “Don’t get mushy on me.”

He glared at me, as he shook me off, “I’m big on loyalty.  You don’t screw people like me over.”

If he wasn’t so serious I’d laugh at his threat.  He was being dramatic.

I elbowed him, “K.”

“And uh,” he paused, “I guess I just uh…I kind of wanted to say.  I know I don’t show it but…uh, you’re one of my best friends, you know?”

I smirked at him.  He was having such a hard time with emotions.  It was hilarious.  And sad, honestly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I chuckled.

“Um, uh,” he swallowed, “I know I get in my head a lot and I’m bad at being there for you.  But you know I’m like…here?”

He was right.  He rarely cared about anybody but himself, and I rarely relied on him for bigger stuff I was dealing with—I mean, he always sort of knew what was going on in my life, but he didn’t really know me.  He never really tried to.

So for him to not only admit that it was true, and that he was trying to be there now…I didn’t know how to feel about it.  Confused?  Honored?  A little too late?

“Like if there’s anything you wanna’ talk about, I’m…I’m supposed to be your friend and stuff.” He paused, looking away from me, and honestly almost looking scared, “Don’t feel like you can’t tell me stuff, okay?”

I’m so confused.

“I’m not going to Midtown,” I chuckled.

He shook his head at me, finally returning his attention to me, “I know you’re not.  That's not...uh...like I said...uh.  I'm here if you just wanna' talk, I guess.”

Chapter Text

Cy: Hi!

I hadn't heard from Cyrus since he got back to Shadyside over a month ago.  And with it being three weeks into the school year, it felt like forever.

I mean yes, I shouldn't have complained, it was a two way street.  This whole start of the school year, a small part of me thought I should've just initiated, and text him, but for whatever reason I never could.  I'd always start a text, but never finish it.  Never sent it.  It was this weird confusing cycle of overthinking that I just couldn't get over. 

In any case, it was a welcome sight, seeing his name on my phone.  And it was nice that he started it.

TJ: Hi

Cy: What are you doing right now?

TJ: Uh tutoring, then I was gonna’ shoot some hoops at the park.  Why?

Is it bad that I hoped the answer was him asking to hang out?

Cy: How would you feel about doing me a favor?   

Cy: Actually, the favor’s for Buffy.  I’m putting up signs for her Basketball tryouts!

TJ: So her team is actually happening?

Cy: Yup!

It was kind of cool to think she'd been making plans for this team all summer.  I was genuinely excited for her.

TJ: She has to be excited.

Cy: She is!  And I want to make sure that she gets as many people at the tryouts as possible.  So, would you be possibly interested in helping me help Buffy out?

TJ: Well…I mean, I’d be happy to help Buffy.  Plus, I feel like I haven’t seen you since you got back from England.  I’m down for an excuse to catch up.

My heart stopped as I waited for the response.  Was that weird to say?  I mean, it was true.  But like, it was weird right?

Thankfully his response was almost immediate.

Cy: It’s not an excuse.  I really DO need help putting the posters up.

TJ: But also, we can like hang out.

Cy: Yes, but after.  There is work to be done first! :)

TJ: Cool :)

I ended up having to wait another half hour before I was able to check my phone again, considering my tutor was pretty strict about stuff like that, but the earliest moment I had, I rushed to send a text to my sister.

Nothing had really changed since last year, my sister was almost exclusively picking me up during the fall semester—but with my sister suddenly deciding to get involved with everything her senior year, it meant that she'd decided to get involved with Grant High's Drama Club production of Twelfth Night.

So far she'd struggled to balance picking me up at a reasonable time and fulfill her duties to the play.  Most of the time it meant I was playing pick up basketball for like 2 hours afterschool; so honestly, Cyrus asking to hang out—probably later than she usually would—was a really welcome excuse for both me and my sister.

Plus, Cyrus offered his parents as a ride in case things ran really late for whatever reason, so I was covered either way.

As long as I let Billie know what was going on, she really didn't care.  She only picked me up 'cause mom and dad made her.

Once my tutoring session ended, I rushed over to the art hallway—per Cyrus' directions.

I ended up finding Cyrus in one of the art classrooms, as requested. 

He didn’t even notice me come in, as his back was turned to me and he was busy staring far too intently at a poorly organized stack of posters, some of them only half done.

“What happened?” I chuckled.

Cyrus jumped for a second before recovering, turning to face me.  Once he realized it was only me, he smiled as he offered an eager wave, “Hi!  It's been a while.”

My breath caught in my throat.

I guess I hadn’t quite realized how excited I was to see him for the first time since June.

And looking at him now, I couldn't really find words to say.  He got taller.  He got tanner.  His voice got lower.  His face looked just a little bit older.

Oh boy.

No.  I did not like this boy.  No way.

My brain was not allowed to do this to me.

I attempted to recover, by covering my own nervousness with a smirk, “Still working on making the posters?”

“Well,” he pursed his lips, “I was done.  And then I got inspired with all these witty slogans and felt like I had to start over.  I’m like half done now.”

I approached the stack, curiously scanning through them; almost all of them had a hand-painted drawing of a basketball, “You need help finishing them?”

He looked so relieved at the sound of my offer, “Please.”

We ended up spending the next 45 minutes finishing a definitely unnecessarily high amount of posters of various sizes. 

But Cyrus was so excited by the idea of helping Buffy with this, of course I wouldn’t stop him.

Plus, it was nice, the time gave us an opportunity to both talk about our summers.

In the middle of his sentences he’d drop these cute little British accented words, things I’m assuming he picked up after a whole summer overseas.  I’m not even really sure he was doing it on purpose, but that’s what made it endearing.

When I mentioned he was doing it, he blushed and said Buffy and Andi found it annoying.

I couldn't really see why.

In any case, his summer was much more exciting than mine.  I didn’t really do much except for those two races I did.  I mean, I covered at Jackson Street here and there, but mostly I spent a majority of my time with Reed, Lester, Jack, and Connor.

I mean, yeah we got up to stuff, but mostly we played video games.

Cyrus was busy talking about his school year so far, when I realized we were nearly done with all the posters, “…so my step-dad—he’s the life coach—has recently got into the idea of 'decluttering'.  It's all he can talk about.  Naturally, the house is now torn apart in an effort at reducing what we have like materially.  It's not really an effective plan.  Long story short, I guess I live in a minimalist house now,” He chuckled, “Which is unfortunate, because I have this really big collection of VHS’s at that house from older movies I loved to watch when I was really little.  My mom says I should get rid of them since we don’t even have a VHS machine in the house anymore…”

He was rambling, but it was fun watching his eyes get big and his arms do that thing where he talked with his whole body.  Plus, I thought it was kind of cool to learn these little things about him,

Without even really considering what he was saying, I wondered out loud, “What’s that like, living at two houses?  How do you even balance that?”

Like he'd been asked the question thousands of times before, Cyrus just shrugged, “I don’t know.  I guess I’m kind of used to it.  Right now we do an every other week thing, so I get time with both sets of parents.  I’ve gotten really good at planning and packing considering I have to make sure I have the right things at each house.  I feel like I live out of my backpack sometimes," he chuckled, "all my important stuff is in there.  That's why it's always so full.”

I don't know if it was the way he said it, or the fact that I was in awe this was so casual for him, I had to pause.  It must have gotten tiring bouncing house to house.  Again, I pressed onto deeply personal questions because apparently I couldn’t help myself, “Were you sad when your parents got divorced?”

Cyrus shrugged, “For a little bit yeah.  But I was like 5.  I didn’t really get it.  And then they both got remarried, and honestly...I don’t know how I lived without Todd and Sharon before.  I love my step parents.”

Curious, I pressed, “Which house do you like more?”

He shrugged, “Well, I mean, my mom’s house has a ping pong table in the basement.  That’s pretty cool.”

Interesting.  I smirked at him, already game planning, “You ever play?”

Cyrus shrugged, attempting to be casual, “I mean, every once in a while,” he paused, “It’s like the one sport I’m okay at.”

The words left my lips before I could even really think about it, “We should play sometime.”

Shoot?  Did that come off as flirtatious?  Did I want it to come off as flirtatious?

Not noting any of this, Cyrus’ eyes lit up, “I mean…you’re always invited into either of my homes.  My parents love it when I have friends over.”

I chuckled at that, “Are you inviting me over?”

Cyrus stumbled on his words for a second, his confidence already floundering, “Oh, yeah, I guess I am.  I…you’re not obligated to.  Obviously.”

“I’d love to see your house.  And your VHS collection.”

Cyrus chuckled at that, evidently eager at the idea, the hint of his nervousness already gone, “You could even sleep over if you want.  Make a whole evening out of it!”

I smiled at that, “That’d be cool.”

“Anyways, enough about that." He leaned towards me, suddenly curious, "Do you have any random collections of things I should know about?  You know about my VHS collection...”

I shrugged, “I don't know.  My sister makes fun of my basketball shirts—but it’s my mom who buys them for me, so like I’m not completely guilty.”

“You are the one who wears them, though.” He paused, “You do have a lot though, now that I think about it.”

I chuckled, “I could say the same about you and your button downs.”

He looked affronted at this.  In my defense, I don't think I've ever seen him wear the same button down twice. “Excuse me, can’t a gentleman dress nice to school everyday?”

“You are literally wearing one with dinosaurs right now.”  I smirked at him.  I'm not gonna' lie though, I didn't hate his shirt, “That’s less nice and just like…well, fun I guess.”

He glanced down at his shirt, before deciding to return the focus to me, “Whatever…TJ Kippen.  The boy who wears basketball t-shirts and plays basketball.  What a complex human, you are.”

I chuckled at him, “I mean, I'm into stuff other than basketball." I paused, suddenly getting self-conscious, "I-I guess I know a lot about music.  I have a pretty decent vintage record collection.  And I always get excited if I can find like records of like 80's or 90’s hip hop.”

At that Cyrus giggled.

“What?”  I suddenly grew self-conscious.

“It just suits you so well!  Old school hip hop.”

I blushed at that, “Whatever.”

Attempting to return his attentions back to our actual task, Cyrus turned to observe his work, before letting out a loud sigh, “Okay…I think we’re ready.  You carry the posters and the tape, and I’ll put them up?”

I chuckled at him, “Just using me for my muscle then, I see how it is."

He chuckled too, "Obviously," he paused, "I'm not the muscle here."

We ended up plastering the school itself with like 5 big posters before Cyrus decided the other like 30 posters needed to be not only on various walls outside of the school, but on the street leading up to the school.

When I attempted to explain to him that putting posters up on the street was probably not a good idea considering the likelihood of rain this week, he simply ignored me and continued to put up the posters anyways, muttering something about “buying a laminator”.

We were headed back to the school, almost a half mile away now, when I offered conversation, “You think Buffy’s nervous about being in charge of a girl’s team?  Like not just a captain, but in charge of everything?”

“No." Cyrus shrugged, "She just sounds really excited.”

“I’m sure she’s a little nervous.  I was a little nervous last year at first.  And…she has so much more pressure on her.  So much she has to do and worry about.  Plus, she’s making history.  I was just some captain.”

Cyrus was determined, “Yeah, but you don’t know Buffy like I do.”

“But I do know sports.  And I know how much pressure she’s under." I tapped his chest out of instinct, "I’m telling you, she’s probably nervous.  I’d bet you.”

Cyrus smirked, “Really?”

I stood my ground, “Yeah actually.  Let’s make a bet.  We can ask her during her tryouts on Thursday.  If she’s nervous, I win.  If she’s not, you win.”

Cyrus rose an eyebrow, intrigued, “And what’s the wager?”

Confident that I would win, and knowing I had nothing to lose if I lost—plus it was sort of how we met, I smiled as I immediately realized the perfect thing.

“A muffin?”

Cyrus’ jaw dropped, “A muffin?  Like a school muffin?” He paused, “You know how hard those are to get!”

I shook my head at him, smirking because honestly now I was just being evil, “Nope.  You have to make the muffin of my choice.”

“Well,” Cyrus attempted to recover, “So do you!”

I shrugged at that, not remotely worried considering I can make muffins in my sleep, “Maybe.  But I’m not the one who’s gonna’ lose the bet.”

It was Monday, only a few days after the girl's basketball tryouts, and the day of the boy's tryouts.

My table was perfectly happy watching Jack approach at least 3 separate tables now, begging each for their extra baby taters.

The guy loved his baby taters as much as a human probably could—in fact I think he lived at The Spoon— but I’m thinking now that betting him that he couldn’t get more from the tables around us as a joke was going to end exactly how it was unfolding in front of us, so I don't know why I was so surprised he was doing it.

Connor turned his back on Jack, turning towards us, “Game plan.  Friday.  Football.  Anyone still need to ask permission?”

Shoot.  I'd completely forgotten.  I hadn't even asked let alone planned on going.  Friday was the day I was planning on sleeping over at Cyrus'.

“Oh, uh," I swallowed, suddenly nervous, "I can’t go.”

Reed narrowed his eyes at me, immediately making my anxiety rise from like 5 to 50, “What do you mean you can’t go?  It’s the first home game of the season.”

I shrugged, attempting to stay casual, “I just can’t.”

“You grounded or something?”

“No.”

Reed looked at me like I was both stupid and insane, “You can’t just not go to a football game. What else is there to do on a Friday night anyways?”

Connor paused, his eyes going wide, “He’s totally going on a date.”

I blushed at that, “I’m not going on a date.”

Reed rose an eyebrow at me, “Well why else would you miss a game?”

“I…I already made plans.  With a friend.  So I can’t go.  But I’ll be there for the next game.”

Connor leaned towards me, incredulous, “You don’t just miss a Grant High Football game.  Everybody goes.  Plus it's the home opener, so it's like extra important.”

I shrugged, attempting to keep my voice cool, “Yeah, well I'm missing it.”

Reed genuinely looked like he couldn't possibly understand what I was saying, “Just reschedule with them.”

“I—” what, I don’t want to? That Cyrus would understand why I bailed on him but I didn’t want to see the look of disappointment when I did? I sighed, “They…they just wouldn’t get it if I bailed on them.  We’ve been planning on hanging out…and Friday was just like…the best day.  So what, I miss one game.”

“Who are you hanging out with anyways?”

I wanted to say nobody, but I knew that would only make them press more.  Not to mention, Cyrus was most certainly not a nobody and he didn’t deserve me calling him anything close to that word, “I uh…I’m just hanging out with my friend Cyrus.”

Reed narrowed his eyes at me again.  But he didn’t say anything.

Connor furrowed his brows, “Who’s Cyrus?”

“He’s in our grade.  Funny, friends with Buffy and Andi.  And Jonah.  He's like the guy who always made posters for her.”

They shook their head at me.  Of course they wouldn’t know who he was, he was so far out of their radar, and they rarely cared about anything out of their radar.

As if on cue—or maybe because I was acutely sensitive to everything at the moment—my head turned at the sight of movement from the end of the food line.

Cyrus was walking alongside Andi.  He looked very much like he was rushing her to the table.

If I had to guess, he was either hiding from somebody or he’d planned something.  In any case, his face was very readable.

For a moment we locked eyes, he forced a smile for only a second before he returned his attentions to Andi.

I continued to watch them as they walked towards their table.

“Eh, it’s your friend Cyrus!” Reed pointed out, chuckling as he elbowed me in the arm.  Honestly, Reed was the last person I expected to know who Cyrus was, but I guess I had mentioned Cyrus to at least Reed before.

I quickly returned my attentions to my table, suddenly self-conscious.

“Hey call him over, we can invite him to hang out with us at the game.”

“Uh,” I stammered, “Nah, I’d rather—”

“C’mon, yeah, call him over!” Jack started eagerly.  I didn’t even realize he was back at the table.  I don't even think he knew what was going on.

“No." I swallowed, "He looks busy.”

“C’mon.”

“Nah, guys.  Leave him alone.”

Reed, ever the one to press me, leaned forward, his voice quiet, “Why, are you embarrassed of us?”

No, more like I was nervous that they’d embarrass me.

Not to mention, God forbid Cyrus walk over to our table.  My face would make everything obvious to them in an instant.

“No…just leave him alone.”

“Aww, our TJ has other friends, finally,” Jack cooed, “Should we be jealous?”

“Nah,” Reed smirked, elbowing me, “He’s allowed this one.  Someone’s gotta’ appreciate TJ’s weird dork side,” he snickered to himself, “It sure as heck ain’t me.”

"The night before I left, I walked her to the door..."

The sound immediately ended our conversation.  Someone was singing.  It didn't take long for us to turn towards the sound—which apparently came from near Cyrus' table.

"Is that Jonah Beck singing?" Connor chuckled, "Honestly, dude's got a good voice."

Oh, this was why Cyrus looked suspicious and like he was rushing Andi.

Jonah was singing to Andi.

I didn't really know what was going on, and last I heard things were complicated with them—I don't know, but I do know that whatever was going on was kind of cool to watch.

Chapter Text

Reed: You still riding on Saturday?  My dad’s asking if he needs to make room in his truck for your bike.

TJ: Yeah.  And thanks for the ride again

Reed: Don’t know why you still thank me like we don’t do give you a ride every time.

TJ: Being polite, I guess

Reed: Dad said he might let me drive there

That was a terrifying thought.  He wasn’t even going to turn 14 until January.

It would be his dad to let him though, the two were basically the same person and always seemed to be making the most dangerous ridiculous decisions.

Like Reed’s dad was the one who let the three of us stand in his truck bed this summer while he rode donuts in some empty field outside their house for like an hour.

It was honestly a miracle we didn’t die.

But I’m not gonna’ lie it was fun as hell.  And I only really raised concern at the beginning, and that was only because he started driving before I was fully in the truck bed.  I mean, after that, and I got my balance—like after that it was just fun.

Was it stupid? Hell yeah.  But I mean, it’s not like anything happened.

But uh, I definitely didn’t tell my mom or dad about it.  They’d kill me.  And Reed.  And Reed’s dad.

Still, Reed driving a truck was definitely my limit.  Reed was definitely the sort of person to drive 100 mph on a winding single lane road for fun.

TJ: Uh yeah, I may not need a ride anymore then lol

Reed: Whatever

He didn’t say anything for nearly 10 minutes before a second text came in.  At that point, I'd already returned to my English homework.

Reed: Hey how was the library thing?

TJ: Whatever, I guess.  Why?

Reed: I saw u walking with Cyrus when u said u were busy with the library thing.

TJ: Yeah.  He saw me and decided to get some homework done at the library too.

Reed: Cool cool

TJ: What

Reed: Idk, u made this new best friend and I don’t no anything about the dude

TJ: Sorry?

Reed: Nah, it’s cool

TJ: You obviously have a problem with it

Reed: Nah.  I just don’t know him.  And I know everyone.  It bothers me I don’t know him.

TJ: Well he’s not really like you.  He’s more like…I guess he’s just really friendly to everyone??  Like the type of person who’d bring you soup if you were sick.

Reed: You saying I’m not nice haha?

TJ: I’m saying you’re just different from him.

Reed: Well what’s he like then?  Sometimes u talk about him like he’s the best human ever.  And then other times u won’t even admit ur hanging out with him when I know u are.

TJ: Idk didn’t know I needed to check in with you guys all the time

Reed: You don’t.  I just don’t like you lying.

TJ: I miss when you used to lie to me and pretend to care to get stuff you wanted to know out of me.  Now you just accuse me of being up to stuff.

Reed: isn’t friendship supposed to be about honesty

TJ: What do you want from me Reed?

Reed: Idk.  Like your not living this double life.

TJ: I’m not

Reed: You are.  You’re different.

TJ: People change.  That’s allowed.

Reed:Fine.  I’m just saying.  Don’t leave us behind if you start changing.

I’d say it was funny that Reed was definitely jealous that I had other friends, but honestly he’s always been this weirdly territorial.  He liked feeling like he was in charge of our little group, and anytime any one of us got a semblance of a life outside of our group, he’d start accusing us of things or just outright get jealous.

This was different though.  He knew Cyrus and I had a genuine friendship, one that I think Reed was incapable of.  And I think for the first time, considering how insistent Reed was, Reed was genuinely nervous he was losing me.

You can call Reed a lot of things, and I didn’t think this would be one of them; but I think for the first time I finally saw him as insecure about something.

TJ: Cyrus is not going to replace you guys.  I promise.  I can’t bring him into our group because he’s not like us.  He wouldn’t get us.

TJ: You know, the other day he gave some random stranger 5 dollars because …well I guess they only asked for one dollar but he somehow got like their whole life story out of them and found out they were like barely able to afford their school lunch.  Like that’s the type of person he is.  And I love you guys, but we don’t make the best choices sometimes, and I can’t bring someone like Cyrus into that.

Reed: I mean he sounds cool to me.

TJ: He is cool.

Reed: I want to meet him.

TJ: Um.  K.

Reed: You should invite him to come with us on Saturday.

TJ: I don’t know if he’d be into it

Reed: He won’t say no if you ask, I’m sure.  Ask him.

TJ: Idk

Reed: C’mon dude.  You scared?

Honestly, yeah.

Reed: Don’t worry, we won’t scare the poor dude off.

I can’t believe I convinced Cyrus to join us.

I can’t believe I let Reed convince me to convince Cyrus to join us.

In my defense, I sort of wasn’t clear with Cyrus about what we were doing on purpose.  I didn’t know if he’d say yes, if I was honest.  He didn’t really seem like the type to do something that even appeared remotely dangerous.

I mean considering he was still afraid of skateboarding apparently, he would have definitely said no if I had mentioned the word “dirtbiking”.

That much was clear when he arrived with regular bike in hand.

Still, there was an eagerness I didn’t expect.  At least he seemed sort of fascinated by the idea that I dirtbiked.

Which, admittedly I guess I’d never told him before.  I’m not really sure why.  It felt like some secret part of me.  I guess I thought it wasn't interesting enough to share.

I attempted calm as I introduced him to Reed and Lester.  Reed seemed too eager to meet Cyrus to be honest.  And the moment he complimented Cyrus’ humor, I knew exactly what he was up to.

He was trying to read Cyrus.  He was turning on the Reed charm that had—admittedly—worked on me all those years ago.  But I mean, Reed was being nice so I guess I didn’t care.  Still, it was sort of weird the way he was charming Cyrus.  Like it was almost flirtatious?

I still can’t believe it was Reed that talked Cyrus into trying to ride.  Cyrus by definition was always afraid of going out of his comfort zone, and I didn’t really blame him in this specific instance for not wanting to.  Dirtbiking?  It wasn’t just out of his comfort zone—this was a whole different world for him.

Yet despite his initial hesitation, it didn't take much for us to convince him.  He seemed almost eager to try.

Wow.  I guess the summer changed him more than I realized.

I’m not gonna’ lie, it was sort of exciting getting to teach him how to ride the bike, explaining the controls.  It was cool getting to teach him about something that I enjoyed.

Also, when he touched my hand on accident, I only hesitated for like a second.  I hid it well.

And I’d file that into complicated feelings and reactions I wasn’t willing to deal with, until a much later time.

Now, the time was Cyrus meeting my friends.  And taking part in something that defined my friendship with Reed and Lester.

I was, admittedly, very excited when Cyrus started to ride.  The three of us watched curiously as he attempted the very simple warm up turn.

“Alright, let’s go, Cyrus.”

“Woo!”

He sort of awkwardly hobbled his way towards the initial pass.

As he finally made it to the beginning of the turn, I could hear Reed snicker from behind me.

I ignored it for a moment, uttering a “Let’s go,” before I felt Reed push me.

Was he laughing at my friend?  Was he teasing me for being friends with someone so clearly uncoordinated? 

I didn’t care. 

All I knew was that he was being a jerk—even after he promised he wouldn't be—about the one time I tried to bring him into the smaller more important parts of my life, and I wasn’t standing for it.

Without even thinking, I rolled my shoulder away from him so that his arm fell off me and grumbled, “Stop.”

Immediately, my attention returned to cheering on Cyrus.

He was trying.  He didn’t have to do this.  He didn’t have to put himself out there in this way, considering how hard motorbiking was, but he was.  It was like the somersault all over again.

My frustration at Reed—and complete determination in cheering on Cyrus—must have sent some sort of message to him, because all of a sudden he was cheering Cyrus on too.

“Come on, come on.  Do it again, Cyrus.  You got this.”

“Come, on.  Come on!”

By the time he overcame the initial turn, and started riding towards us, the two of us were running towards him—admittedly probably not our smartest move considering he didn’t quite have great control of the bike—both excited that he’d done it at all.

Reed was patting Cyrus’ back.  Supporting him.

I didn’t know I needed it, but honestly the thought made me really happy.  Maybe I could bring Cyrus around my friends more.

“Look at you!  I think you got a little air on that one.” I attempted, out of breath from the excitement, because admittedly, he hadn’t actually done that bad for his first time out.

Just as breathless and excited, Cyrus panted, “I forgot which one was the brake.”

Reed, ever the observer, suddenly commented, “You lost your shoe, dude.”

Cyrus casually glanced down, smiled, and glanced back up at us.  Ever positive, he chuckled, “Huh.  That’s so on brand for me!”

I was already pulling out my phone, from a shot I took of him while he was riding.  Ever ready to show him how he looked.

“I look rugged.” He beamed, staring at the picture for a moment longer, “Oh! And there’s my shoe.”

Right at the initial turn, sure enough, a black shoe was spotted flying off of his foot.  I’d even got the shoe flying mid-air.

Considering his casual response to losing a shoe, I’m guessing that happened a lot.  But honestly, his response is what got me.

I chuckled at him.  He lost a shoe, and he didn’t even care.

The afternoon ended up being really fun.  The four of us progressively took turns taking various courses.  I ended up riding along Cyrus for his second route, just to keep an eye on him.  But 45 minutes in, I decided to actually get some practice in—and maybe show off a little—which meant I left Cyrus with Reed.

To say I was scared would have been an understatement.  I didn’t even know whether or not Reed liked Cyrus, and lord knows how much information he was trying to weasel out of Cyrus just to embarrass me.  There was a 100% chance that he was definitely trying to manipulate Cyrus one way or another.  Reed was too good an actor not to.  He did it to everyone.  He did it to me when we first met, and we were like 9.

Still, when I returned to our base, Cyrus and Reed were all smiles.

Somehow that made me more nervous.

Which in turn made me want to go ride again.  I wasn't ready for whatever the heck they were going to say.

But suddenly Cyrus got very still.  And Reed was carrying a bag towards him.

And immediately my heart dropped.

I thought he was joking last night.

Dammit Reed.

“Yeah.  Dude, have you ever seen a watermelon go pfft?  It’s…so dope.” Reed smiled that stupid clueless smile—that smile that had already convinced itself he had a 'good idea'.  Already I could feel myself boiling.

Reed pressed Cyrus, “You should see your face right now, bro.”

“Is that real?” I heard Cyrus' voice grow increasingly concerned.  He didn't sound scared so much as just uncomfortable.  I hoped, prayed that suddenly Reed would reveal that whatever was in the bag wasn't a gun.

Reed evidently didn't like Cyrus' tone, as he suddenly grew serious.  He never could handle being around people that were 'killjoys', he genuinely didn't know how to respond to them.  He grumbled, “Of course it’s real.’

Cyrus said something in response but I couldn't hear him.

And then the fateful words left Reed's mouth, “It’s my dad’s.”

Cyrus said something else I couldn't hear, but he was obviously incredibly anxious now.

Reed grumbled, growing concerned now too, “Dude, chill.”

I could hear them continue to talk for a moment, but I couldn't hear what they were saying anymore.  But judging by Cyrus' body language, I knew he was freaking out.

And the moment he turned to look at me—like he could sense I was there—I knew I was in trouble.

This wasn’t even my fault, but somehow I’d messed up.

And I was genuinely scared.  This definitely seemed like the type of thing that would be his limit.

I couldn’t look at him.  I couldn’t look at his genuine face of concern.

Would he yell at me?  No, probably not.  But I could already feel the disappointment.  He wouldn't want to be friends with someone who hung around with people who did dangerous things for fun.

Suddenly Cyrus approached me, determined.

“Do you know what’s in that bag?”

I couldn’t look at him.  I let out a loud sigh, “Yeah.”

He’d mentioned it as a joke last night, but I never thought he’d follow through.

He’d only pulled something like this once before, and that time was a BB gun.

But when he said over group text that he was thinking about sneaking his dad’s gun, last night I should have believed him.  But he never followed through with stuff like that.  He was full of stories.

Stupid yes, but never dangerously stupid.

“I’m gonna’ go,” Cyrus uttered, and I could hear the desperation in his voice.

I nodded at him, still unable to look him in the eyes.  What could I say?  Or do?

I was upset.  Upset at Reed for putting all of us in this situation.  Mad at myself for putting Cyrus in the situation at all—I may have known Reed was like that, but Cyrus didn’t.  I was embarrassed.

But mostly I just wanted the moment to pass because all I really knew was that I was very uncomfortable.

“Okay.” I finally whispered after what felt like forever.

“I think you should too.” He reasoned, glancing into my eyes in a way that made me want to say yes, to follow him, because I knew he was right.  I knew that was the right decision.

But also, he didn’t know Reed.

And I couldn’t just leave Reed.

I couldn’t just leave, it would ‘cause too much drama.

Instead, with that disappointed glance in Cyrus’ eyes, I turned away, unable to face him.  Shaking my head, because it was all I could really say.

Cyrus sounded desperate now.  I’d never heard him so upset, so disappointed, so desperate.

“TJ…”

He stared at me for several seconds, I guess just waiting for a reaction.

But I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t move.  I couldn’t make a decision.

Finally, shaking his head in complete disappointment he finally walked away.

And the only thing I could do was watch him walk away.

Watch the one really good, pure, thing in my life walk away.  Probably forever.

There was no way things were going to be okay.  There’s no way he’d ever see me as anything but some troublemaking jerk now.

And I wasn’t that guy.

Reed wasn’t that person.  He was just…being dumb.  Like he always did.  But Cyrus would never believe that.  And Cyrus had every right to not want to be around that.

And instead of leaving with Cyrus, I sat there, just watching them shoot at the watermelons for nearly 30 minutes.  Fuming.  They were shooting like my life didn't just implode because Reed decided to do something dumb and dangerous.  I mean, there was one particularly dangerous shot, where the bullet richocheted off of a rock and hit Lester’s bike.

His bike was fine, but we were probably like 10 feet from the bike, and I didn’t like that.

None of this was okay.  And I wanted no part of it.  I never wanted a part of stuff like this.  I didn't even like it when they brought the BB gun last time.

Lester and Reed were giggling the whole time.  I could tell Reed was annoyed with me that I just sat there watching them, refusing to participate or say anything to them.

He didn’t really care that Cyrus panicked about it.  He didn’t care that Cyrus left.  He did care that I was upset that Cyrus left.

The worst part was, he didn’t get why.

I didn’t say anything the whole time we were out there.  I didn’t say anything as Reed’s dad dropped me off at my house.

I didn’t even say goodbye.

I just grabbed my bike and marched into my house.

Unfortunately for me, my mom took one look at my face and knew something was up.

What could I say?

I marched past her, and towards the backyard.

I’d fumbled around through our backyard, searching desperately for a basketball and attempting several poor attempts at baskets before I acknowledged that my mother had definitely been standing there, watching me have a breakdown.

She didn’t say anything when I finally glared at her.

It was only after she smirked, considered her words for a moment, and let out a sigh that she chuckled, “Okay, Troy Bolton.”

I glared through her, “What?”

“Are you going to keep pretending that you’re not upset?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

She considered this, “Are you going to want to talk about it after you’re done being mad?”

I shook my head.

“TJ.”

“I don’t have to tell you everything!” I snapped at her.

She didn’t appreciate my tone, and I was genuinely thankful she didn’t snap at me for that remark.  She usually did.

After a pause, I whispered, “Sorry mom.”

“No you’re not.” She returned, “You just don’t want me to yell at you.”

“I just…” I sighed.  I didn’t want to tell her anything.  But also, I did want to stop being so angry.

And it’s not like I could go to Cyrus to complain about those things.

I’d ruined things with him.

“Why are people so…hard?”

She chuckled at that, “Honey, it gets so much more complicated the older you get.”

I rolled my eyes at her, “Dad says people make way more sense the older they get.”

She shrugged, “Maybe.  But life gets more complicated.”

“Today was supposed to be nice.”

She got quiet for a moment.  This was going against everything within her to not immediately press me, but I still couldn’t get why she wasn’t.

“What about it…made it…not nice?”

I stood there, staring at her.

“I just want everybody to be friends.”

“What happened?”

I shook my head, “I…” I wasn’t sure what to say.  My mom would kill me.  But then, like a waterfall, something else came out, “Reed keeps saying I live two lives and I don’t live two lives.” I whined, my words coming out a mile a minute, “And I tried to bring the two lives together, and it was really bad.  And I don’t wanna’ live two lives.”

She chuckled at me, “What happened?”

“Cyrus is mad at me.”

“Why is Cyrus mad at you?”

“Because I didn’t follow him when he asked me to.  But-but I couldn’t.  And Reed was my ride.  And I didn’t want to ask you for a ride.”

“Why did Cyrus want you to leave?” She pressed, pulling up one of out outdoor chairs nearly 8 feet from it’s spot under our patio to right in front of where I shot hoops.

I stared at her, unsure of what to say.

“I uh…” I paused, “Reed did something stupid.  And it…it made Cyrus uncomfortable, so Cyrus wanted to leave.”

“Are you mad at Cyrus for leaving?”

I shook my head, “No.  I think he did the right thing, to leave.”

“Thelonius,” my mom pressed, “What happened?”

I could feel my entire face grow hot.  I couldn’t look her in the eye and lie.  After several long moments of contemplation I sighed, “Promise you won’t get mad.  And promise I won’t get in trouble.”

She immediately closed her eyes at this, letting out a long frustrated sigh, “I can’t promise anything.  I can’t promise I won’t get mad.”

“I uh…Reed did something stupid.  And I didn’t find out about it until right before, and Cyrus got really uncomfortable being around it.  So he left…and he asked me to go with him…but I didn’t.  Reed would make fun of me.  So I stayed.”

“Do you think you should have stayed?”

I shook my head, “No.  But like, I didn’t play with it.  And I’m mad at Reed for bringing it, and I didn’t talk to him all day.”

My mom was trying very hard to be patient now, “TJ, what is 'it'?”

I swallowed, it felt like the longest second ever as I worked up the courage to say it, “He brought a gun…to shoot watermelons with.  And like, not a BB gun.”

My mom immediately rose from her seat, “A gun?!”

“Don’t say anything!”

“Who’s gun was it?”

I shrugged, “His dad’s.”

She gritted her teeth, “I’m going to call that man—”

“Mom, no!”

“TJ, this is not okay.  Even if he didn’t know Reed took his gun, it should have been locked in a secure room!”

I sighed, “I know.”

She stood up, approaching me, trying desperately hard to temper her anger, “Would you like to tell me what happened?  The whole story.”

I sighed, “I invited my friend Cyrus to come riding with us today.  And uh, I mean Reed mentioned he might bring it last night—but like he says stuff all the time and never actually does it—but I went for a lap, ‘cause we were taking turns doing laps, and I wanted to practice.  When I got back, Reed and Cyrus were talking and then Cyrus started freaking out.  That’s when I realized he’d actually brought the gun.  And-and Cyrus he knew it was bad and immediately walked away and he wanted me to walk away too.  But I didn’t.  I got scared.  And I know Cyrus is mad at me, he looked so upset I didn’t follow him.  I know it wasn’t safe, but like…I didn’t shoot it.  I just, like sat there and waited for it to be done and for everyone to go home.  I…I didn’t know what to do.  They…they would’ve made fun of me for following Cyrus.”

“Did they make fun of Cyrus for leaving?”

“No.”

“Then why would they make fun of you?”

“Because Cyrus isn’t their friend.  I am.”

“Yeah, well Cyrus made a better decision than you did.” My mom scoffed, standing from her spot and beginning to pace, “I’m going to call that man and have some very strong words for him.”

She went on, talking to herself and working herself up for nearly 45 seconds before I snapped at her.

“Mom!”

She snapped at me, “What?!”

“Stop.”

“I have a right mind to not let you race anymore.  You’re definitely not hanging out with those boys anymore, I’ll tell you that,” she paused glaring at me, “I knew it.  I knew they were bad seeds, and I still let you hang out with them.  That’s definitely not happening anymore.”

“Mom, I know.  And I’m gonna’ do something about it…”

“What?”

“I…I don’t know.  But please.  Everyone’s already mad at me.  They're gonna’ be more mad no matter what I do.  So please let me figure out how they’re gonna be mad.”

“No, absolutely not.”

From a deep desperate part of myself, I whined, “Please, mom.”

She continued to pace, stopping for a moment to reason with herself, glancing at me in a very determined way, “You have until tomorrow morning to figure something out before I chose for you.  And, we’re talking to your dad.”

Chapter Text

I’d been dreading the phone call, the text, the confrontation for day’s now.  Everyday I showed up to the table just waiting to get chewed out, and everyday Reed showed up like nothing had happened.

Granted, Reed was obviously mildly annoyed with me overall and I knew that, but he gave no indication that anything was wrong.

And then, one day the group of us were hanging out by the outdoor basketball courts before school.  We were busy making plans, and talking about our first home basketball game coming up in a couple days.

I had to give Lester credit, he genuinely hated basketball, but he still managed to fit in perfectly well—and support—a group of boys that was 60% basketball players.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted Reed storming up to the group, absolutely fuming.

My stomach sunk.  It was happening.

“I can’t freaking believe you!” Reed spat, immediately squaring up with me.  I could tell it took everything in him not to just push me.

I’m not gonna’ lie, for about a second I stepped back, immediately intimidated and overwhelmed by his anger.

But I wasn’t wrong.  I couldn’t let him win.

He wouldn't win.  He didn't deserve to win all the time.  Especially not when he never got punished for all the bad things he did.

With confidence I did not in fact have in that moment, I attempted to stand tall.  If I had one thing over him, it was my height, and dammit was I going to leverage it.

Through gritted teeth, he nearly yelled, “You called the cops on me?!”

I could hear muttering from behind.  Obviously this was the first everyone else was hearing about this too.

“What the hell is wrong with you?  My dad’s being investigated now.”  He snarled, “What, because you were afraid of some stupid little gun?”

“That wasn’t okay,” I grumbled, attempting to keep myself from crumbling under his anger.  I was shaking, “what you did.”

“You were fine with it until Cyrus said something.” He began to push at my chest, “You know, I’ve put up with a lot of your crap over the years, but this is like…my limit.  You don’t go to the freaking cops. And not for something so dumb.”

I could hear Connor whisper behind me, “What did he do?”

“He told the cops that Reed had his dad's gun on Saturday, I think,” Lester whispered.

The mutterings behind me continued, this time much louder.

“Well, you were never gonna’ learn if I didn’t,” I snapped.  It was true.  And honestly all of this, the more I thought about it, was less about the gun and more about the fact that I was angry with Reed for always getting angry with me any time I decided I didn't want to take part in his dangerous or illegal ideas.  It wasn't fair for him to expect it of me, and it wasn't fair that he literally always got away with it, “What you did was actually dangerous.”

“You’re just being dramatic dude." He made a gun figure with his fingers, taunting me, "Just scared of a gun ‘cause your parents don’t own one.  I know what I was doing.”

“You’re 13, Reed.  You shouldn’t even be near a gun.”

Reed rolled his eyes at me, scoffing as he turned away, “No.  I told you my one thing was loyalty.  And you go off and change loyalty the second your boyfriend gets uncomfortable.”

I could feel my face turn red.  What could I say?

The boys were just as silent.  Just waiting for me to respond I guess.

“Shut up, just shut up Reed,” I finally let out, my anger slowly getting the best of me, “For the record my friend Cyrus is just as mad as me.  This isn’t because of him.”

“It always was, TJ.” Reed shot, “If you’re willing to screw up an entire friendship for it.  This jerk’s got you so wrapped around his finger, you’d go behind our backs the second you could.”

“I didn’t go behind anyone’s back.”

“You didn’t even tell me you were mad on Saturday.  And next thing I know you go to the cops?  No.  You knew what you were doing.”

I sighed.  I guess he sort of had a point there.  But even if I did say I was mad he wouldn't have cared.  He would have told me to get over it, “I’m sorry I had to.”

He rolled his eyes at me, casting his arm away from himself and towards the school doors, “Just get out of here.”

I glanced to our friend group, who looked equal levels of intrigued and confused, “You can’t kick me out.”

“Like hell I can’t,” He approached me again, “I never want to see your stupid face again.” His voice got low as his face got very close to mine, so low only I could hear his angry whisper, “I hope this guy’s worth it.”

At that, I swallowed.

Was he legitimately accusing me of what I thought he was?  Or was he just saying it because he knew I'd get upset about the accusation?

I couldn't tell, and honestly, that terrified me.

The next week was a continual storm of implosions.  Word quickly got out amongst the basketball team what happened.  For the most part I guess a majority of the guys didn’t really care either way, but Jack and Connor seemed to go out of their way to remind me that I’d been a killjoy.  They barely even attempted to talk to me.

I could tell, at least for Connor, it was mostly out of fear of Reed that they stopped talking.  But I think Jack genuinely didn’t like that I so ‘easily betrayed a friend like that’.  He didn’t trust me; not as a friend, not as a captain.  He made it obvious.

My saving grace was one of the 7^th graders approaching me, almost hesitantly mentioning that he thought I did the right thing.

My friends straight up just left our table.  They moved to hanging out in one of the classrooms, I think.  They didn't even want to see me.

Did I blame them for taking sides, not really.  Especially with Reed, he was the type of person that required choices and taking sides.  But still, I was genuinely hurt they never once considered taking my side.

I spent the better part of two days sitting by myself, just trying to figure out what to do.

I'd lost my lunch group.  I'd lost years worth of friendship over a stupid gun.  But most importantly, I knew I lost Cyrus.

I’d seen Cyrus in passing a few times, but he either didn’t notice me or he immediately got pulled away by one of his friends.

They knew, didn’t they?  He had to have told them.

They didn't say anything outright to me in person.  But they glared at me when they could get away with it.  Plus, they physically pushed him away anytime I got even remotely near him.

What hurt the most is when I tried to approach his locker.  Andi would just usher him away.  But Buffy, she'd just glare at me—daring me to get any closer.

And honestly, I had absolutely no doubt she'd legitimately try to beat me up and somehow succeed.  Buffy may not have really intimidated me before, but considering she now held access to the one person in this world I wanted to talk to, she terrified me.

It’s not like I hadn’t tried to talk to Cyrus.  I hadn't avoided him.  I attempted to approach him just about every moment I could.  But he was never alone.  And like, pretty much all week, after I realized that I definitely needed to explain the situation to him, I texted him almost nonstop.  I called him too.

He never responded or answered, but like I figured he wasn’t allowed to.  Or at least I hoped.  I hoped he wasn’t outright ignoring me because he was angry at me. 

And then, one afternoon we caught eyes.  He was walking into the cafeteria with Buffy and Andi.  He turned to them, almost desperate, glancing between me and his friends.

And then the moment he stepped forward, they grabbed him.  They pulled him towards the other end of the cafeteria.

They did ban him from talking to me.

So maybe he did want to talk?  Maybe he wasn’t mad?

We sort of shared glances, him being dragged away, and me feeling absolutely horrible all over again that I’d put him into such an uncomfortable position.  My stomach twisted.

I thought losing my friend’s hurt.  But knowing I couldn’t even fix things with Cyrus was so so much worse.

Maybe Reed was right, maybe I did value Cyrus far too much.

I approached him, almost 2 full weeks after the gun incident.  I’d stopped by the park every day, just praying that one day I’d spot him there.

Today, I hadn’t even really planned on stopping for very long.  Like maybe a 20 minute pick up game before my sister picked me up from drama practice, but as I began to warm up I glanced towards the swings—like I always did nowadays.

And my heart stopped.

This time, he was finally there.

Without even really realizing it, I was nearly sprinting towards the swings.  Praying that Andi or Buffy didn’t suddenly appear out of thin air.

I held my breath as I approached him.  Two weeks to think about what I could have said, and my brain came up with nothing.

And now that he was so close, I didn’t even know where to begin.

Instead, I approached his swing, and whispered, “Is this swing taken?”

Cyrus immediately stood up at the sight of me.  He looked almost concerned, worried.  He stuttered, “H-how’d you know I’d be here?”

What could I say?  That I’d been here everyday for the specific purpose of looking for him.

My brain told me saying that out loud was a stupid idea, and I resolved to say that it was just luck, but apparently I couldn’t lie to Cyrus, because the truth came out in this sort of weak and desperate voice, “I’ve been…stopping by.  Hoping I could catch you without your body guards.”

He couldn’t even look at me.  He shook his head as he mumbled, “I’m…not supposed to hang out with you.”  He immediately began to rise, obviously uncomfortable and nervous, “I…I should go.”

“No, stay.” I felt myself reaching out for him, and in that moment I so desperately wanted to reach out and touch him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, “I’ll go.” I sighed, “Can I at least say I’m sorry first?”

Cyrus shrugged at me.  Like he’d already resolved to say yes long before I’d even asked.

“I didn’t know Reed was gonna’ bring a gun.” I hesitated, and for the first time in my life it felt like the truth, “I…I wouldn’t have gone." I wouldn't have.  I never wanted to when I was around it, "And I definitely wouldn’t have brought you.”

Cyrus looked up at me with those soft brown eyes, and honestly it just made me feel so much guiltier than I already was.  He was such a good guy, and I was stupid for even thinking I could mix him with my old friends.

He was different.  He was better.  He was what I needed.

I sighed, “Now you hate me.”  The words bubbled up so slowly yet so violently, it burned my tongue as it came out like a whimper.  But it was probably the truest thing I’d ever admit about myself, “Hm, classic TJ, anything good, I gotta’ ruin it.”

Like I had many good things to begin with.  And like even when I did—in those rare events I had good things—it was like I didn’t know how to be happy, or happiness scared me.  It was such a foreign thing to me.

I think that’s why I found it so addicting in Cyrus.  He was scary, because being around him made me so happy, but it was this weird sort of feeling that made it worth it.  He scared me, but at the same time he made me feel so safe.

And looking into his eyes, at my words, I felt myself immediately crumble.

He was too good for me.

And at that, I immediately began to walk away.  Because really, I didn’t know if I could say anything else.

He’d never forgive me, so why even try.

And yet, when a soft voice called out to me, my heart stopped at the hope that maybe he’d look me in the eyes and tell me things would be okay.

“TJ.”

I turned towards him.

“You said you were gonna’ apologize.”

My heart sunk at that.  He hadn’t forgiven me at all.  He just didn’t accept what I’d said.

I scoffed at him, honestly mildly annoyed.  I’d bared my soul to him, and it wasn’t’ good enough?

“I just did?”

He pressed me, “Actually you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.  I said I—” I considered what I’d said, “Oh, you’re right.” I rebuffed, growing uncomfortable because I’d felt naked and vulnerable for far too long in this conversation, and honestly ready to be done with it.  Being around Cyrus scared me. “Well, sorry for not saying sorry.”

I attempted to walk away again, but again Cyrus wasn’t having it.

“So…you’ve apologized for not apologizing.  But you still haven’t apologized.”

I don’t know what overcame me, maybe it was my protection mechanism, but I immediately snapped, “You can be a little annoying, you know that?”

“Well,” Cyrus began to reason as he stood from his seat on the swing, approaching me, “You can be oblivious.”

This felt like my confrontation with Reed all over again, but the difference was—I think Cyrus had already forgiven me?

I don't know, I could just tell.

Like we were insulting each other for the heck of it?  Or like we were insulting each other in a way that let the other know…I don’t know, like we saw the other?

“Well you can be very judgey,” I accused.  It was far from the truth, I knew that, but I seemed to always frame my own disappointment in myself, and my fear that I disappointed him onto him.  The thing was, he never had those expectations of me, it was all me.

It was then that I realized how close he was, as he returned with, “Well…you can be intimidating.”

And that was when I knew he’d forgiven me.  The Cyrus that I know, at least the one that I’d come to know over these past few months wasn’t afraid of me.  This Cyrus always called me out.  This Cyrus always waited patiently while I processed my anger, and carefully talked me down.  The Cyrus I knew, didn’t think I was intimidating or oblivious at all.  The Cyrus that I knew saw right through me.

“You know what else you are?” I returned, and in that moment I finally realized just how close he was to me.  This beautiful boy that, for some stupid reason, had already forgiven me.  This beautiful boy who took the time to listen to me, to never judge me, to make me feel like whoever myself was, it was perfectly okay to be that guy—even if that guy was insecure and unsure.

And for one guilty moment, the only thing my brain was capable of thinking of, was how much I liked him, and how much I really just wanted to take just one small step forward and break the gap between us.

All my brain was capable of saying, or screaming I guess, was, “Kiss him.”

And for that moment, the thought didn’t scare me.  It freed me.

“What?” Cyrus nodded at me as he waited for my answer, staring up at me with those beautiful brown eyes that I just wanted to stare at forever. 

Like a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding in, I gasped.  Crush or not, this human being staring back at me was probably the most important person in my world, probably the best person I’d ever met.  With a bravery I didn’t even know I possessed, I locked eyes with him, whispering, “The only person I can talk to like this.”

And with that, Cyrus beamed at me.  He sort of bit his lip in a way that made me blush and made my head spin.

Oh my gosh, there was no denying it now.  I liked Cyrus Goodman.  Like a lot.  And it didn’t scare me.  The thought made me smile, because of course I liked Cyrus Goodman.  Whatever the world thought, one thing was true, Cyrus Goodman was a good thing in this world, and for that, I was blessed to even have him in my life.  And I supposed fear and considering the fact that I just admitted I liked another boy would come tomorrow or the next day.  But today?   I honestly wanted nothing more than to just…sit and be around him.

I smiled at him, as I whispered, “Okay if I stay?”

In a teasing sort of way, one I didn’t dare attempt to interpret as flirtatious, he shrugged at me.  He was saying yes.  To being my friend.  To talking to me right now.  To fixing things.

I hadn’t lost him.

And as we sat on the swings together, just talking, I dared think that things were going to be okay.

Chapter Text

TJ: Are you busy right now?

I sort of hated myself that my stomach twisted.  Every single moment I waited for a response my anxiety just increased more and more.

He was not allowed to make me feel this way.  And yet he did.  And he had.

Okay maybe my feelings for him were complicated and definitely not platonic, but it shouldn't matter, he was my friend and he didn't really ask for me to be weird around him by liking him. 

Plus, it’s not like he felt the same way.  We were just friends.  I was super aware of that.

It sucked knowing that, but it's not like I was ready to deal with anything in like the .0001% chance of Cyrus even maybe liking me back.  I mean, it's not like he talked about girls, but it's not like that was something I pressed him about to talk about in the first place.

After what felt like forever, he finally responded.

Cy: I am busy actually, sorry!  I’m helping Andi with a craft.  Why?

TJ: Oh.  I just wanted to hang out.  Another time, maybe?

Cy: I don't have plans after though.  Maybe we can hang out for an hour or something before I have to go to bed.

TJ: Or you could like sleepover tonight?

Cy: Yes!  That sounds perfect.  And I can finally see your house! I'll ask my parents.

TJ: Just don’t embarrass me

Cy: Impossible.

“What are you doing, you weirdo?” Billie chuckled from her spot on the couch.  She was busy watching Rent frame by frame.  I guess their homework for her drama class was something about like color schemes or something, but I don’t know why she was trying to do homework on a Saturday in the first place.

Plus, the movie was sort of annoying when watched in a frame by frame sort of way.

“I’m cleaning."

“I can see that,” she chuckled, watching me as I threw a ton of newspapers into the storage part of our ottoman, “Why?”

“My friend is coming over, and his house is always really clean, and we’re never clean.”

She giggled, “Calm down.”

“The house is so dirty though.”

She decided against continuing whatever snarky thing she wanted to stay, and instead returned to her homework.

I attempted to ignore her judgmental presence as much I could, an easier objective once I moved to fix my room.

I'd just thrown a large heap of clothes into my closet when I heard the doorbell ring.  

“I’ll get it!”  My sister screamed before I even remotely had a chance to be near the door.

I sprinted out of my room, watching in horror from the hallway as Cyrus introduced himself to my sister.

“Is TJ here?”

“And who are you?”

“Uh…Guy-rus…I mean Cyrus.  Cyrus Goodman.”

My sister squealed, throwing him in her arms, “Aah, Cyrus.”

It was at that point, trapped in my sister’s arms, he noticed my presence.

His eyes widened, and he smiled at me.

As she separated from him, she still continued to hold him hostage, her hands firm around his biceps, “You’re the Cyrus Goodman.  TJ…he’s mentioned you.”

“And, I’m guessing you’re Billie Kippen.” Cyrus attempted niceties as calmly as he could, but I could tell he was still a little bit overwhelmed, “TJ talks about you.”

“Aww,” she turned towards the hallway, assuming I was there, “You care about me?”

I rolled my eyes as I approached them, “Cyrus didn’t say I complimented you.”

“Okay, but really though." She smirked as she turned her attentions back to Cyrus, "Why are you friends with my brother?  You sound like a much better person than he is.”

“Um?”

I threw myself onto the couch in protest, “Okay, leave him alone, Billie.”

She finally let him go, but continued to examine him.  I’m not even sure why, but I could feel myself blushing.

“And why do you have so many bags, sir?  Are you planning on moving in with us?” She chuckled, noting his obviously full backpack and obviously full duffel bag.

Cyrus blushed, “Well, the duffel bag is mostly my sleeping bag.”

My eyes widened, I didn’t really think about where he’d sleep.  Where we’d sleep.  I’d slept over at Cyrus’ before, but they always put that sleep-away cot in his room.  We didn’t exactly have a sleep away cot.

Not to mention, I sort of just realized this was the first time either of us was sleeping over while I realized I had feelings for him.

Okay, maybe this was a very bad idea.  I was going to be self-conscious about everything tonight, wasn’t I?

If this is what crushes are, I want no part in them.  I just wanted to hang out with my friend.

“Oh well,” I considered our options, “You know, the couch is pretty big, we can probably just share the couch.”

Cyrus smiled at that, that nice smile that meant he was going to go along with me.  I couldn't help but smile back, despite the fact that I knew I was looking dopey, “Yeah, I’m fine with that.”

“Well now that’s settled,  I’m going back to my movie.” She smiled proudly to herself, jumping onto the couch.

Cyrus, ever eager, approached the couch, “Oooo, what are you watching?”

“No, no, no.  Don’t get sucked in.  She’s not watching a movie for fun.  She’s like watching it frame by frame.  It’s like some homework assignment or something.”

Cyrus got this devilish look in his eyes, as he sat down on the couch, “Really?”

She rolled her eyes at me, “I’m watching Rent.  But yeah, Teej is right.  So basically, I’m in Drama 4.  You have two routes you can take with the class.  You chose the acting route—at which point your supposed to be like a mentor to the younger classes and like younger actors.  Or you do the production route, which focuses on things like costuming and set design and...well production.  I chose the production route, so I’m part of a team of like 4 people basically responsible for putting everything together.  My role is primarly production and set design.”

“And you’re watching the movie, because?”

“Rent,” she chuckled, “I’m watching Rent.  We all get to pick the movie, as long as it falls in the category of something that was or could conceivably be on Broadway—so pretty much movie musicals.” she paused, “Anyways, based off of our role we have to dissect a movie of our choice and analyze those aspects.  So my friend Riva, her role is costuming, so she’s going to break down the like symbolism and color scheme and stuff of the outfits the people wore in the movie she chose.  Since my focus is set design, I’m watching Rent and analyzing like why they chose the color schemes or scenes that they did, and how they used their environment to evoke whatever emotion they wanted.  Like yeah, maybe the script called for a worn down restaurant, but how did they decorate the set to evoke that theme.” She paused to breathe, “Basically it’s supposed to make us better at our jobs as we go full force into our Spring Production.”

“What’s the Spring Production going to be?”

“Moulin Rouge,” she rolled her eyes, “Which is why our next homework assignment is ‘Now Figure Out How We’re Gonna Pay For It’.”

Cyrus nodded at her, though I could tell he was already lost, “I’ve never seen either of those.”

“Well Moulin Rouge is pretty much an adventure.  I’d put it on right now if I hadn’t seen it 100 times already,” she chuckled, “But Rent’s one of my favorites.  It’s about a group of friends who are just trying to live—and pay the rent—in the midst of the AIDS epidemic.  It’s surprisingly upbeat for all the dark themes it talks about.”

Cyrus glanced at me, and before he could even present his pleading eyes, I could already see the request in them.

I groaned, “Go ahead, watch with my sister.”

He beamed at me as he nearly sprinted to his seat on the couch.

My sister couldn’t help but chuckle at him.

“I didn’t know that you could do like production side in drama.  I thought Drama Clubs were all just about the acting.”

My sister shrugged, “Some of them yeah.  But Grant I think is trying to be a little bit competitive with SAVA so our Drama Department is actually pretty decently sized.  That’s why we can have stuff like Production Tracks.”

“Do they ever put on plays that the students write?”

She shook her head, “No.  But twice a year we have a banquet and the banquet is pretty much all the students either reciting monologues or putting on mini shows they wrote.  It’s really fun.”

“That’s so cool,” he continued to beam, “I’m...I like writing Screen Plays for movies.  Maybe I’d want to go into directing one day.”

“There’s definitely a route for that.” Billie nodded, “There’s a ton of Creative Writing electives, Video Production, Drama.  All three you’d pretty much have a solid resume to any film school.”

Cyrus turned to look at me, “Am I actually sort of excited for Grant High School now?”

I couldn’t help but smile at that.  He was so cute.

I’m not gonna’ lie.  I spent the next hour of my life watching my Cyrus and Billie talk.  I think he saw some sort of mentor in her, or at least someone who spoke his language.  And Billie probably enjoyed it since he was actually helping her with her homework in a way.

What I found interesting was how quickly he latched onto the movie, and how eager they were to talk about themes.  It was like seeing a side of him I didn’t even realize existed.

I mean, I knew he liked movies, and that he wanted to go into the movie making business; but this was different, it was like seeing him at work.

Without even really thinking about it, I pulled up my phone and started recording.

They were so wrapped up in their conversation they didn’t even notice.

My mom ended up getting home around 7.

She was always so busy, I don’t know how she did it.  In the mornings it was rehearsals at Midtown University, where she often played accompanist—often times for their choirs.  In the evenings it was lessons.  And on Saturdays it was an entire days worth of lessons.

I give my dad the credit for never being around, but really I should be giving my mom credit for managing to come to half of mine and Billie’s things considering how much traveling she did on a daily basis.

My dad got home not long after her.

They caught the three of us eating some frozen pizza we found in the freezer.

My mom hardly noticed.  She would have marched straight to her room if not for the random brunette haired child in her living room.

She was so exhausted she sort of stared at him in confusion for a solid 10 seconds before anyone had the foresight to just introduce Cyrus.

And it was Cyrus who introduced himself.

“Hi ma’am.  I’m Cyrus Goodman.  I’m friends with TJ.  He invited me to sleep over, but by the look on your face I’m guessing he didn’t exactly ask if that was alright.”

She stared at him in confusion for another second before breaking out of it, furrowing her brow, “Well they never do.” She finally offered a smile, “It’s nice to finally meet you Cyrus.  Do your parents know you’re here?”

Judging by her look, Cyrus clearly was a different sort of friend than basically all of my other ones and she could tell just by glancing at him.

“Yes ma’am.  They drove me here any everything.  Is there a specific time you need them to pick me up tomorrow?”

She shook her head, “No, no.  Make yourself at home, dear.”

Billie chuckled at her as she watched the interaction, “Is it bed time, mom?”

My mom nodded at her, almost walking like a zombie, as she began to walk down the hall, “I’ll be in my room if anyone needs anything.” She paused, “Don’t need anything.”

My dad’s entrance wasn’t any better.  He marched straight into the house and to the kitchen.

He sat there, on his phone for nearly 30 minutes, scarfing down some leftovers before he stood up and began rummaging around in the kitchen.

I couldn’t help myself, I immediately turned to look at Billie.  She frowned at me.

After a couple seconds of us sharing glances she finally sighed, “Might be a good chance to introduce your friend.  Who knows, maybe it’ll calm him down.”

“What’s going on?”

I shrugged, “Oh, my dad always comes home really stressed.  We can usually tell which ones the bad days are ‘cause...well you know how some people are stress eaters?” Cyrus nodded at that, “Well our dad’s sort of a stress baker.”  I considered my next words, and yeah Billie was probably right, meeting Cyrus might actually calm my dad down.  I forced a smile at Cyrus, “Wanna’ meet my dad, Cy?  He’s cool, I promise.”

Cyrus didn’t look so sure, but he did immediately stand up.  I stood up too, leading the way towards our kitchen.

Dad was rummaging through our clean pots, a muffin tin in hand.

“Hey dad, how was work?” I offered.

My dad grunted in response.

“Hey, uh.  My friends’ sleeping over tonight.  His name is Cyrus.”

Cyrus, without skipping a beat, stuck his hand out, “Hi, sir.  Cyrus.”

My dad finally looked up, an almost manic and confused look as he finally made eye contact with Cyrus, “Oh, hello Cyrus.  You’re TJ’s friend?”

“Yes, sir.”

I coughed uncomfortably at the interaction.  I’m not sure, but Cyrus meeting my parents made me so nervous.  They had to like him.

I don’t know, did I think there was any way they wouldn’t?

“What are you making dad?”

He glanced between the two of us, before walking to the refrigerator and pulling out a bag of apples.  He hesitated for a moment before returning our attentions to us, “Muffins, I think.”

Cyrus got more excited than I would have expected, his eyes got wide and his smile big, “Muffins?”

My dad nodded at that.

Cyrus got this weird goofy smile on his face, “I love muffins. Can I help?”

“Yeah,” my dad considered this, his usually gruff self surprisingly not intimidating Cyrus, “Yeah.  Help.”

Like some miraculous marvel, within minutes, Cyrus seemed to get my dad talking.  The sound of Motown filled the room.

Cyrus was clearly out of his element—as indicated by his...well, average muffins that he’d given me after the bet, but I could see it in his eyes.  He was trying to make up for it.

And yeah, I definitely got more sneaky pictures of him.

The next thing I knew it was 10:00 and my sister was in her room, I hadn’t seen my mom since she got home, and my dad headed to the room to get to bed himself.

I was busy carrying several blankets from the closet so that we could make ourselves comfortable in the living room when Cyrus suddenly got really quiet.

I froze.  I don’t know why, but his silence made me so nervous.

“What’s going on Cy?”

“Can I…” he hesitated, “Can I see your room?”

I chuckled at him, “That’s it?”

“Well, yeah.  I mean, some people get really private about their rooms.  I wouldn’t just walk in—of course unless you said that I could…” he was rambling and blushing, it was really cute.

“No, I’ll show you now,” I beamed at him, nearly sprinting towards him out of excitement.  I hadn’t even really realized I’d grabbed his hand in the process of walking him to my room.

I knew that if I turned to look at him, to process what I’d done, I’d overthink things.  I’d want to let go.  I'd make it awkward.  And Cyrus didn’t say anything.  So instead I just walked very fast towards my room.

But oh my god, I was holding his hand.

Once we reached the door of my bedroom, I moved to open it.  It took me only a moment’s hesitation before I walked in. 

It wasn’t until we were in the middle of my room that I realized I was still holding his hands.

Okay, now I probably needed to let go of his hand.  He’d say something.  He’d know what I was thinking.  I stared at our hands for a moment before I finally released it.

It felt so immediately empty.  Cyrus didn’t say anything for a second, just sort of staring at me before he looked away to observe my room.

My room was nothing special.  A bed, a desk, a bookshelf, a closet.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, I thought it would be like covered in basketball posters or something.”

I rolled my eyes at that, “I’m more than just basketball, you know.”

Cyrus frowned at that, “No, I know that.  It’s just, you know, you like basketball so much I expected your room to be covered in posters,” he walked towards my bookcase, “You definitely have more books than I’d expect.”

I shrugged, “I’m not really about decorating.”

“I like all the quotes though.” I’d written down a bunch of quotes I liked and posted them sporadically around the room.  Honestly, looking back on it now I was sort of self-concious about it.  They weren’t exactly written with the best hand writing and now that somebody else was staring at them, they felt really personal.

I couldn’t help but blush.  I felt really vulnerable and I didn’t like it.

I watched helplessly as Cyrus walked back to my bookshelf, looking through the titles.

“You have a lot of books about ancient Rome,” Cyrus commented to himself mostly, before he let out a shocked gasp.

“What?!”

“You read Plato…like for fun?  Who are you?”

I blushed at that, “Honestly, I only read like half of it.  I thought I could get through it, it sounded cool at the time, but it was really confusing.  But yeah, I guess I sort of did.  I just…I guess I’m sort of into learning about ancient history and stuff.”

“That’s really cool TJ.”

“It’s really cool how you like talked to my sister.  She really liked you, I think.”

“She’s so cool." He beamed, "And I didn’t know there were so many opportunities in high school.  Kind of makes me excited.”

“She’s alright,” I shrugged.

“Are you two close?”

I shrugged, “Sometimes.”

“TJ?” Cyrus suddenly got quiet, serious.  My heart started pounding in my chest.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” Cyrus swallowed, “You know, after everything?  We kind of didn’t really talk about it, but…yeah…like do you need a place to sit with at lunch?  I’m sure my friends would be okay with it.”

I knew for a fact Buffy was still slightly upset with me over the whole thing, but I could tell she was at least trying.  I knew Andi outright still didn’t trust me.

“I’m fine,” I paused.  I tried not to think about it most days, but I guess it was getting obvious.  We texted basically non-stop at this point and it had barely been like two weeks and already I was basically always asking to hang out.

I wanted to pretend it was because I wanted to spend time with him, and sure, it was definitely that.  But mostly, I figured the more I spent time with him the less time I’d spend thinking that I didn’t really have a social life anymore.

At this point I couldn't tell if he was saying yes to spending so much time with me because he felt sorry for me or because he wanted to spend time with me.

He was so charitable, in his head it was probably both.

Still, I felt guilty that I was taking so much of his time, but I hoped he'd complain if it was too much.

“TJ?" Cyrus approached me.  I felt myself stop breathing, and my face was hot.  He set a hand on my shoulder, "Are you really?”

I shrugged at him.  I wanted to be honest, but being honest was scary.

But then, looking into those big brown eyes that were just staring into my soul, basically ordering me to be honest with him made me crack pretty much immediately, “No.  I’m not really fine.  I miss my friends,” I paused, “I don’t think I can go back to racing either, not without seeing Reed and Lester.  But…I know if I stayed friends with them I was gonna’ end up on a path I didn’t like so in some ways I’m sort of relieved,” I sighed, “But still…the whole basketball team pretty much has an opinion on the whole situation, and it…I just kind of want to move on.  But that’s hard to do without like…friends I guess.”

“Things will get better I think.”

I smiled at him, “I know it will.  But the in between sucks.  I guess I just got reminded that my team is a popularity contest, and now that I’m not on top, it’s like they don’t care or respect me.”

Cyrus offered his advice, “Maybe they never respected you in the first place, maybe they were just afraid of you.”

I glared at him.  The suggestion genuinely hurt, “How is that supposed to make me feel better?”

He shrugged, “It’s not.  It’s just a suggestion.  That doesn’t make it fun.”

“Cy, I can’t just hang out with you and your friends.  Their your friends.  And they don’t like me.”

“That’s not true.”

“I mean, have I given them reason to?  I keep getting you in trouble.  I’m not like you guys…even if I wanted to be.”

“Why couldn’t you be?”

I swallowed.  I cared too much, that’s why.

“I just…I think I just have to figure this one out on my own, Cy.  But I…I really appreciate you like being there for me.  I’ve never had a friend like you.” I paused, shocked at my own words as they left my lips, “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t forgiven me.  You’re…you’re like one of my best friends.”

“Well that bar was set pretty low after the whole losing your friends thing.” Cyrus attempted jokes.  I was making him self conscious.

“No, Cyrus.  I mean it." I reached to grip his elbow.  He was still holding my shoulder with his arm, "I’m really glad I met you.  I feel like…like I could trust you.”

Cyrus let out an embarrassed smile at that, one he attempted to hide.

And in one wave, it hit me.

I really liked him.  I mean, I knew that.  But I liked him.

This was what crushes were supposed to feel like.  It was scary and exciting all at once.  I mean, I definitely hated it that I overthought literally everything I said to him now, but I secretly kind of enjoyed anxiously waiting for his replies, sneaking glances, feeling my stomach twist at pretty much every word he said.

But it was addicting.  His smile, those moments he got embarrassed and blushy, or pretty much whenever he got excited about something.  I just wanted to keep being around him.

And honestly I didn’t even care that he obviously could never feel the same way about me.  Because it was just exciting to realize that I liked someone.

I mean, I’d never ever tell him.  I’d never tell anyone.  Not that I liked him.  Not that my very first real crush was on a boy.  It didn’t matter, because right now it was like this secret I had all to myself, something that just belonged to me.  Something I could figure out at my own pace.

Of course my mind only went like this when Cyrus was around.  I mean, my mind always seemed to turn to mush when he was around.  And like, yeah I realize every time I think about bringing him up to people I get sort of self-conscious about people realizing I like him; but wasn’t that normal?  Didn’t normal people feel that way about crushes?

No, I’d pretend that I wasn’t a little bit hesitant because I was already not super popular with my teammates, and it’s not like they would get weird or anything over the idea that their captain likes a boy.  No, that doesn’t go through my mind like a million times.  Because I was normal.  I fit in.  I wasn’t different in any way.

I was a wallflower.  Someone who blended in.

Trying to break the intensity that I realized I suddenly created, I pulled away from him, pulling my phone out of my pocket.

"I got some candid's of you," I blushed, handing my phone to him.  Scrolling, slowly.  One of him staring intently at the TV as my sister talked to him, one of him eating and laughing, one of him making muffins with my dad.

"I like the last one the best," I elbowed him, "Chocolate Chocolate Chip Muffin."

"It's Blueberry Macadamia to you, sir," Cyrus chuckled, elbowing me back.

"Actually it was Cinnamon Apple Walnut."

“You two fell asleep on the couch together last night,” my sister teased as she pushed a picture she’d taken of us in my face, “Oh-em-gee it was so cute.”

I rolled my eyes at her.  Though I did stop to look at the picture.

It wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.

We’d fallen asleep on opposite ends of the couch, and I remember occasionally kicking at his feet as a joke, but I didn’t realize our feet had kind of intertwined during the middle of the night.

“He’s a sweet kid,” my mom offered, continuing her work on the pancakes—a Kippen family tradition, brunch on Sundays—an event created entirely because it’s the only time we’re all in the house at once and not dead tired, “I like him.”

Without really thinking about it, I immediately offered, “I do too.”

I immediately blushed upon realizing what I’d said, but thankfully my mom didn’t exactly realize what I meant.

“He’s alright,” Billie teased, elbowing me.

“I’m not gonna’ bring my friends over if you’re gonna’ be weird about it.” I glared at her.

“Friends,” she chuckled, “More like friend.”

“Billie Joan, be nice.” My mom scoffed.

“Wow, mom, sounded like you really meant that.”

“You watch your tone Thelonius.” She aimed the spatula at me, “I haven’t grounded you in a while…it may just be time.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, is it alright if I shoot around with you guys?”  I hated that I sounded this insecure, almost 3 weeks of this now and I genuinely didn’t know if things were okay with the team.

Which still annoyed the heck out of me considering none of them should have had opinions in the first place.

But I guess making the right decision in a dangerous situation rubbed some of them the wrong way.

Either that or Jack poisoned them.

Honestly, both were plausible at this point.

In any case, it honestly shouldn't have mattered.  It shouldn't have affected their ability to trust me as a captain, and for some stupid reason it did.

My two teammates that I miraculously found playing one-on-one one at the park one afternoon, Eddie—who I’d played basketball with since like 5^th grade—and Lee, a 7^th grader, shrugged at me.

That was it.  And that was fine with me.

I guess without Reed’s protection people really didn’t treat me the same.

In some ways I was relieved.  In other ways it was sort of scary to see how hard it was to make friends when you had to start from scratch.

At some point, another kid, a friend of Lee’s joined our game.  We did shoot arounds and some 2 on 2 for nearly an hour before one of the Eddie had to leave with his mom.

It was then that Lee finally offered anything resembling actual conversation with me, “I…uh…I just wanted to say that I know things are weird and stuff with Jack and Connor, and I get why they’re mad…but I think you…you did the right thing.  I wouldn’t have been as brave as you.”

My first reaction was to be snarky with him, since this was coming 3 weeks too late, but I bit my tongue.  Instead I forced a smile as we walked to the bench to get our water bottles, “Thanks, Lee…I guess.”

“I don’t really like that people took sides.  Why does it matter what you did outside of basketball?” Lee scoffed, glancing over to his friend who was taking some free throws, “Whatever Jack and Connor are doing, it’s not right.”

I groaned, “I have bigger things to worry about.”

“But still…you know, people talk and…I guess, well my lunch table is always open.  I mean, not that you need somewhere to sit, more like, if you want to mix it up or something.” He paused, “I just…you know, I transferred schools in the middle of the year when I was in like 5^th grade, and I know what it feels like having to start over.  So like, I understand, I guess.  And like I said…my table…”

He was trying very hard not to offend me, and honestly, I appreciated the effort.

Still, I hated how not a secret me being dumped by my friend group was.

It was almost freeing in a way though.  I didn’t have to act a certain way or do things I didn’t want to do anymore.

“Uh, thanks Lee.  Maybe, uh…maybe I’ll hang out with you guys sometime.”

It would be humbling as hell to sit a a 7th grade table, but was I that desperate for human interaction at this point?

As opposed to sitting on my own in the lunch room where I could feel my old friends judge me?  Or hiding in the library during lunch like I had been all week?  I didn’t know who I was kidding.  People were offering their tables to me and my pride still wanted to say no.

I hated that I was being punished at all for doing the right thing.

But maybe Cyrus was right, about people not being afraid of me anymore.  I mean, yeah it meant that some people were being sort of rude to me now; but it also meant I could really start over.  Not have some persona hanging over me every time I tried to talk to somebody.

And wasn’t that what I wanted all of last year?  For people not to think of me as ‘Scary Basketball Guy’?

I mean yeah, but I didn’t know who ‘TJ Kippen, 8th Grade Basketball Captain’ was.

Not anymore.

TJ: My mom is done running errands, cool if she drops me off at your house?

Cy: Of course!  Jonah’s here too, it’ll be so fun!

I’m not gonna’ lie, a small part of me immediately got sort of sad at the sound of that.

I kind of wanted to hang out with Cyrus, like alone.

But then again, it’s not like we hadn’t hung out alone before.  The past three weekends we basically spent every moment we were both available hanging out.

And honestly, I think my mom secretly preferred having me out of the house with someone like Cyrus.  She knew it kept me out of trouble.

Plus she knew where I was.

Still, I couldn't tell why Cyrus was as eager as me to hang out.  I think a part of him felt sort of bad that I’d essentially cut off my entire friend base and literally had no friends anymore—but, you know, I’d lie to myself and say it was because he genuinely wanted to spend time with me.

Cyrus’ mom answered on the second knock.

“Hi, TJ.” She forced a smile.

I know she didn’t know how to feel about me.  I know Cyrus told her everything that happened;two weekends ago she even outright admitted that she respected my decision to report my friend to the police.

Still, I could tell in the way she talked to me, a small part of her could only see the kid that had friends who played with guns in the first place.

That didn’t stop her from letting me into the house though.

She offered a small smile and mentioned that he was hanging out in the basement.

She didn’t need to tell me twice.  That pool table downstairs what the reason I even had an excuse to sleep over at his house 2 months ago.  It was special to me now.

I bounded down the stairs, a spring in my step as I eagerly awaited the sight of Cyrus and Jonah.

Apparently they were entrenched in a fierce battle.

“Oh, 3-0.” Cyrus taunted Jonah, “It’s a massacre!”

I attempted to think of something witty as I greeted Cyrus, his hand already outstretched to greet me.

Unfortunately, my nerves got the best of me and not only did I awkwardly fumble my hand in his—because of course all of sudden physical contact made me nervous— my mouth blurted out the words, “Hey, niceburg!”

I immediately blushed.  I can’t believe I said that. 

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to note my sudden embarrassment as he pulled me into this sort of bro-y side hug.  I played off my nerves well, I think.

“Is this real or are you letting him win?” I smirked, my energy probably overly eager, but hey I was in 'Impress Cyrus' Friends' mode.

“It’s real,” Cyrus smiled proudly, eyeing Jonah knowingly, “Tell him Jonah.”

Jonah suddenly looked sort of nervous, aiming his paddle towards me, “You…wanna’ play?”

Without skipping a beat, and honestly eager for the opportunity to watch them play, I smirked, glancing towards Cyrus—because let’s be real, table tennis was about the only sport he was good at, “I’ll take winner.”

Jonah didn’t seem to care as he immediately approached me, handing me his paddle.

I reached for it, but not without feeling like I missed something.

“I just,” Jonah sighed, “Remembered I’m supposed to be somewhere.”

Cyrus looked hurt, “Where?”

Jonah was apparently caught in a lie, as he couldn’t even think of a good enough excuse to get out of hanging out, “Umm…” he hesitated, trying to play off his lie by smiling, “hair cut.”

To my surprise, Cyrus smirked at him, “Are you upset that I’m winning?”

He continued to fumble, “No-no, of course not.”

I couldn’t help myself, “Ooo, I think he is upset,” I shared a look with Cyrus, before returning my attentions to Jonah, “Look at the face he’s pulling.”

“It’s because you’re here if you wanna’ know,” Jonah immediately snapped.

Crap.  I didn’t even know Jonah was capable of anger, and here he was glaring at me.

“Hey,” Cyrus immediately defended me.  He stepped forward in front of me, and honestly for a moment I felt so protected in a way I didn’t even realize I cared about. “That thing that happened with TJ and his friends…we worked that out.”

“It’s got nothing to do with that.” Jonah scoffed.

Well that was a relief I guess.  He just hated me for the other stuff. 

He didn’t take long to storm off.

“Then what is it?”

Jonah threw his hands towards me in exasperation as he continued to walk away, “Ask him!”

Cyrus took a moment to collect his thoughts before he turned towards me again, “What is it?  What did you do?”

“I…have no idea.”

And I didn’t.  And honestly I was a little hurt that he automatically took Jonah’s side considering he just defended me to him.

I don’t know, I guess I thought Cyrus knew better than that, to assume I hadn’t done anything wrong.

Not that I really had the best track record I guess.

I ended up being upset enough with the whole situation that I immediately decided to leave.  Or…at least I sat there in his basement stewing in my own discomfort while Cyrus paced back and forth trying to put things together—trying to piece together what possibly Jonah could be mad at me for.

I felt like I was at the end of an interrogation after five whole minutes, and finally after watching him torture himself trying to figure out how to fix the situation I sort of snapped at him to just ask Jonah, because honestly…a small part of me didn’t really care that Jonah was mad at me for something dumb.

It wasn’t anything new.

Clearly Cyrus’ friends would never like me, so why even try anymore.

Without much argument Cyrus nodded at me and decided that yes, he’d just hunt Jonah down and figure out what was up.

Maybe I was too embarrassed to admit why I was leaving Cyrus’ house so early, but instead of calling somebody to pick me up, I walked the 20 minutes to my house.

I was extremely thankful to come home to a quiet house.  My sister apparently had some sort of community outreach thing that had taken up most of her Saturday’s this month, and both of my parents were now at work.

I stewed in my own annoyance at the situation for an entire afternoon and evening before I got a text from Cyrus at nearly 8 in the morning the next day.

Cy: I figured it out!  Can you come to my house ASAP?

TJ: 😑. Cy, it’s not even 8 yet.  Why are you awake?  And can you not wait until like 12 or something?

Cy: Oh no!  Did I wake you up? I just got really excited.  No, no take your time getting here.  I don’t mean it.  Jonah hasn’t even responded to my text yet…

He had in fact awoken me, but he was being so nice about it, I couldn’t really stay upset with him.

Let's be real though, he could probably punch me in the face just because and I'd find some reason to blame myself for it.

TJ: Well, kinda.  But it’s fine.  My dad’s awake, he’s making noises in the living room.  So like, that woke me up too.

Cy: So sorry, TJ.

TJ: Don’t be.  I’m awake now.  I’ll ask my dad, see if he can drop me off at your house a little later.

It was nearly 10:30 by the time I was able to convince my dad to drive me to Cyrus’s house.

And honestly, I think the only reason he let me was because I was super insistent—and well, Cyrus was sort of my only friend right now.

It’s not like it was a secret in my house right now.  It was kind of inevitable after the whole gun thing.

Plus, my sister blabbed to my parents that my only friend was basically Cyrus at this point.

On the bright side, I felt better about getting to Cy’s house as late as I did considering Jonah didn’t get there until 11:15.

Jonah and I sort of stared at each other awkwardly.  Cyrus let us sit in it for nearly 10 minutes before he finally revealed the situation to me, “According to Jonah.  When you two played Little League together years ago, you allegedly possibly stole his Little League jersey.”

 “That’s crazy.”  I turned towards Jonah.  That’s what this was about?  Some stupid jersey from like 4 years ago?  And he was still mad about it? I was honestly offended, “Hey.  That never happened.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jonah whined, just as uncomfortable as I was yesterday.  Good, feel guilty, “We don’t need to do this.”

No, now that I knew I want this stupid thing settled.  I rolled my eyes at him, “Well I don’t want you going around your whole life thinking I stole your Little League jersey.”

He was petulant, “But you did!”

“I did not.”

Cyrus, ever the peacemaker, finally took the moment to interject, “What if I told you that there was a way that we could settle this debate once and for all?”

We both turned towards the sound of his voice.

I’d almost forgotten he was standing behind us.

Leave to Cyrus to find some really complicated way to settle this.  What would it be, some baseball competition?  I braced for it as I sighed at him,“How?”

“Did you know,” he smiled knowingly at the both of us as he approached us, “that the little league organization that you both played for has a website?”

And?

“So?”

“Well on that website are photos of all the previous Little League teams.” He continued that proud smile, staring right into my soul as he did it, “Including yours.”

I had to catch myself for a moment, tear my own eyes away from him as I turned towards the picture.

Clear as day, there I was standing next to Jonah.  And I was wearing a 12.  Jonah’s was 21.  Clearly he was remembering things wrong.

Evidently we both thought the same thing, I heard his words echo mine exactly as I glared at him, “I told you!”

Jonah continued, exasperated, “It’s 21.”

On instinct I turned my attentions back to Cyrus.  I don’t know, maybe I hoped that he’d look Jonah in the eyes and tell him that he was clearly wrong.

Instead, Cyrus sort of sighed this sad sigh at me as he nodded, “It is 21.”

Ugh.  I was guilty.  I had stolen Jonah’s jersey.  I blushed, glancing anywhere other than Jonah or Cyrus, “Oh no,” I stuttered, “Ah, man.  This is embarassaing.”  Do I tell him?  I guess I had to, otherwise I was the jerk in this situation.  I sighed, “When I look at this jersey, I see a 12.”

Jonah wasn’t getting it.  He looked at me like I was crazy, shaking his head, “It’s clearly 21.”

“To you,” I sighed, “To most people.”  I walked to sit down on one of the sofa chairs, trying to figure out how exactly to tell him, “But I have a…learning disability.  It’s a kind of dyslexia, but with numbers instead of words.”

Jonah immediately looked guilty at that, “Oh.”

“I didn’t know I had it back then,” I assured him, “I only found out a few months ago.”

Jonah frowned, trying to consider his words, “I’m sorry.”

He was sorry?  I stole his jersey.  And looking back on the whole situation when we fought about it as kids, I could totally see that I came off like a jerk then too,  “What? No, I owe you the apology.”

“And I owe you one too.” Jonah sighed, “For holding on to this stupid grudge for so long.  I never even thanked you for helping me at Cyrus’ Bar Mitzvah party.  That was the most scared I’ve ever been in my life.”

I almost forgot about that.  Jonah looked so scared then.  If we were all being honest I figured he might tell me, I pressed him, “Yeah.  What was going on then?”

Jonah looked to Cyrus for a moment before returning his attention to me, “Panic attack,” he forced a smile he clearly didn’t mean, “I get those now.”

My sister gets those sometimes.  But still, I can’t imagine how scary they are for him.  My sister has had them for a few years now and is only barely getting them kind of under control, she says they’re really scary.

It's good that he had Cyrus though, because I know Cyrus gets them sometimes too.  And Cyrus is always full of advice.

I’m not sure what possessed me to say it, other than that I got the feeling that he was a little bit ashamed to admit he had panic attacks.  I guess the same way I was ashamed to admit I had dyscalculia to people.  I smiled at him, “Hey.  Everyone’s got something they gotta’ deal with.”

Jonah smiled at me, this look of intense relief.  He looked like he considered saying something too, but no words escaped his lips.

And then Cyrus interrupted our silent exchange, trying to break the tension I think, “Fear of flamingos.”

Really?  All of the things I knew Cyrus struggled with, the things he dealt with, and he chose fear of flamingos.

He continued, as I turned to look at him, “Both real and plastic.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle.  He was so adorable.

And I was definitely going to find a way to sneak into his phone now and make his lock screen a picture of flamingos.

Chapter Text

Cy: I'm not okay.

The text had been random, sent in shortly before bedtime on Thursday.  It immediately set me on edge.  I nearly sat up in my bed as I read it.

TJ: What's going on?? 

Cy: My Bubbe just passed away  😭😭😭

He always talked about his grandma.  This old woman seemingly full of stories and adventures, and honestly—it sounded like—a shock that she survived as long as she did.

Evidently her time actually had been numbered.  I was deeply sorry for Cyrus and his family.

I was lucky not to really know death.  I mean, my grandparents on my mom's side had passed, but I never really knew them so I didn't know any better.  I can't even begin to imagine what Cyrus and his family were going through.  I didn't even know what to do, or what to say.

TJ: Oh no, Cy, I’m so so sorry! Is there anything I can do for you?

Cy: Well, we’re having a Shiva in a couple days.  It’s like a memorial, but like a week long.  At my mom’s house  It would mean a lot if you came.

TJ: Of course, I’ll try to be there

Of course that was my ‘cool’ and 'collected' answer, that I’d try to be there. 

The truth was, it was the morning of the Shiva now, a Saturday, and I'd somehow roped Billie into driving me around town for the past hour.

And here I was, searching on my phone desperately for every grocery store within a 30 mile radius, while I fielded texts from my teammates.

I guess I was thankful that I had finally started to make genuine friendships with my other teammates—a side effect of actually speaking to them—and I was equally thankful they actively attempted to involve me in their pick up games.  Things were looking up, things were going to be okay.  And for that, I was happy that things were starting to feel normal again.

But my formerly made plans to play pickup basketball with them every Saturday afternoon until the end of time would have to wait, because it would mean a lot if I came.

Of course, I couldn't think of a good lie, and I couldn't just not show up— because pickup basketball was a sacred art, especially when it involved 2v2—so instead of saying the truth I decided to come up with an elaborate lie that involved being grounded.

I'd feel bad about making their game uneven later.

“This kid always gets you in a mood,” Billie chuckled as we stopped at what felt like the 50^th bakery in Shadyside.  After an hour of this, she was clearly done with me; but I think she so genuinely enjoyed seeing me so riled up, that she went along with it just to see how long it would take me to crack.

“Why don’t they have Challah?!” I groaned as I stomped back to her car.  I was honestly getting so frustrated.  Why did it have to be Challah that I chose?  Why couldn't I just go with a different bread?  Or a different food?  And why didn't they sell it anywhere?

“Maybe because it’s a Jewish bread." Billie chuckled, laughing even harder as my eyes widened in realization, "You’d have better luck at a Kosher store.”

“So we should go to a Kosher store?” I glared at her for laughing at me but I quickly jumped into the car, ready for my new mission of finding a Kosher store.  I can't believe I didn’t even think of it, “We should go before I end up being super late to this thing.”

Billie slowly entered the car, sat down quietly, and inched her seat-belt into the holster.   After what felt like an eternity of her taking her time, she very calmly sighed at me, “We can’t go to a Kosher store, TJ.”

Admittedly overly emotional about it all because I was stressed, and annoyed at her dramatic way of telling me, I immediately snapped at her, “Why not?!”

“Because it’s Shabbat.  The Jewish Sabbath.  Those stores are closed today.”

Who was she?  “How the heck do you know this?”

“Sarah?  One of my best friends is Jewish, dude.” She flicked my bicep, “One of your best friends is Jewish now too, you should learn these things.” She paused, “I mean…the fact that you took the time to find a Jewish bread  on the internet but didn’t take the time to realize it was Shabbat is like super hilarious though.”

“So what do I do?” I snapped at her, flustered, “I was gonna’ head over in an hour.”

She shrugged, “I don’t know.  Make some, homemade?”

I glared at her.

“What?  Like the two of us mutually haven’t baked enough with dad we can’t figure this thing out?  What else are you gonna’ do?  You clearly already committed to this bread.”

I groaned at her, because she was right.  I had committed.  I could do it.  We could do it.

But also?  I was shocked she was even remotely willing enough to help me at all.  I know she needed to leave in like an hour.  She had things to do today.

Thankfully, I had one less thing to worry about because we ended up finding all the ingredients we needed in the small grocery store around the corner from our house. 

Within a half hour of this plan coming together we were already getting to work.

Well mostly Billie, who was trying to get as much set up as possible so that she could leave me without having me be completely helpless.

Not that I would be, I mean, I've made bread a couple times before.

Except like not alone, so that part sort of scared me.

I groaned when we read the directions after we finished kneading the dough.  Like realistically I should have known better because I’ve made bread with dad before, but my anxiety made the concept of waiting seem so completely unreasonable I couldn’t even begin to figure out how long I actually had to wait.

And what's worse, Billie even told me how long it would take and my brain refused to process what an hour and a half even meant.  It was a meaningless number to me, and that frustrated me too.  God, I hated having Dyscalculia.  It was so inconvenient. 

I hated it got worse when I was stressed.  After trying to conceptualize the number for nearly two minutes I finally groaned at her, "I have to let it rise for a whole hour and a half?!  What time is that, anyways?!”

Billie shrugged, and I suddenly realized she had her small vanity mirror and all her makeup set out on the kitchen table.  She was doing her makeup in the kitchen while watching me freak out.  She sounded so casual in her response to me, “You could always go without it.”

In other words, it would take forever.

Far too committed to this thing now, I snapped at her, “No I can’t Billie!  I've committed!”

“I appreciate your dedication, but…uh, I gotta finish getting ready." She laughed at me, " So uh, good luck with the Challah and being super late to your friends thing and…” she paused, and I suddenly realized she wasn’t even talking about the challah anymore, “don’t freak out, okay?  I watched you set all the timers on your phone, so you shouldn’t have any issues with getting the times wrong.  Just follow your timers and read the directions, easy.  There’s like no way you can burn it.”

I glared at her for that.

Though I did appreciate the energy she took into making sure I could handle all the mental math after she left.

When I was younger I had a reputation of burning things when I baked things—but it was only when I was alone.  At the time we figured it was just because I was young and still needed help.  Now that we realized it was the dyscalculia, we made sure that I had safeguards in place—like pre-measured ingredients—so I wouldn’t have to rely on the numbers so much.

It was sort of annoying that they had to make accommodations for me, but at least my family members never made me feel like they were accommodating.

Billie chuckled at me as she stood up, “This whole situation will be really funny in like a day when you’re not looking like you’re gonna’ kill me.”

It was 2 by the time the stupid bread was done.

At least that's what my last alarm said.  I was supposed to be done by 2 in the afternoon.

I didn't consider the concept much as I jumped in the shower, and quickly attempted to throw an outfit together.  I was already late—like 4 hours late—I didn't want to be any later.

The bread didn't look pretty because I had to do the link design by myself.  And I had no idea if it tasted any good.  But dammit I committed to this stupid pastry that took 4 whole hours of my day that I felt even more determined about it.  I was going to bring it to the Shiva.  I was careful to pack the Challah in this portable bread basket thing, and very precariously held it against my bike handle as I attempted to situate myself on my bike so I could ride over to Cyrus' house.

I mean, it's not like I had any other way of getting there.  Both my parents were at work and Billie had left hours ago.

As I rode the 10 minute ride to his house, I thanked God it was cool winter's day outside or I would have showed up to the Shiva sweaty and gross.

Which would have sucked considering I actually tried kind of hard to look nice.  Like I wore a nicer green t-shirt and a fancy jacket.  I wore my nice jeans.

I tried.

Thank god Billie had no idea I liked Cyrus, because as it was she already found any and every excuse to make fun of me. And knowing that I had a crush on a friend of mine—one she'd met, she'd roast me to shreds.

Is it bad that I'm scared to come out to her entirely because she’d be supportive?  She’d be so supportive about it she’d tease me and embarrass me about my crush endlessly; probably in front of Cyrus himself.  And honestly her making fun of me over a crush was much more terrifying than her saying being gay was wrong.

Not that she ever would.  She had a ton of gay friends and she talked about her favorite gay ships in shows all the time.  So like, I know she’d be okay with it.  But also, like she’d never let me live it down if she knew I had a crush on anyone period, so lord help me she wouldn’t know I liked someone until I was married.

And I mean, it’s not like I was gay.  I mean I had a crush on Cyrus but that didn’t make me gay.

I mean, could I remember a time that I liked a girl or was attracted to a girl?  Not really.  And could I think of time I thought another boy was good looking?  I mean sort of.  But I mean…did it matter?  All I knew was that I liked Cyrus…figuring out the details could wait until…well until I was way older and way more mature enough to handle it.

Oh god, but I still had an attraction on another boy.  That made me not straight.  Did that mean I'd have to come out to people?  Did that mean other people had to know?

I didn't want to think about it.

Thank god I made it to the house within 10 minutes; my thoughts got scary when I left myself with them for too long.

I parked my bike out front and pulled the challah out of it's holster as I carried it into the house.

I'd gotten two steps down the driveway before I realized the front door was wide open.  I could just walk right in.

I know I’d been here before but I suddenly felt lost.  This Shiva had been going on for hours and there were still a ton of people here.  I inched myself through the house, trying to find Cyrus.  These older ladies spotted me and immediately started to gossip.  I suddenly got sort of nervous about it.

After what felt like forever and me finally making my way to his living room area, I spotted him.  He was sitting with Buffy and Andi.  They looked like they were in the middle of some serious conversation.

I didn't really make this observation for very long considering Cyrus spotted me almost immediately.

He stood from his spot, his eyes locking with mine.

I’m not saying the world suddenly appeared in slow motion or anything, but I definitely forgot that I was walking towards him.  It was like my feet carried me.

Crap man, this wasn't fair.  Like I didn't even get it.  How was it possible another human being made me feel like this?

“Y-you came?”

He sounded surprised, nervous.

I couldn’t stop smiling.  He looked so nice in his yarmulke and fancy dress shirt.   I found I could barely speak as I whispered, “Of course I came.”

Of course I came.  He was my friend and I was going to support him.

Of course I came.  I spent 4 hours nearly on that stupid bread for him. 

After all the work I put in, I was going to be at this Shiva, even if it was for 5 minutes.

The challah!  I almost forgot. 

Of course I almost forgot, he was staring at me with these big soft eyes.  I couldn’t look away.

Still, I tore myself away from his gaze as I glanced down to the bread in my hand, “And I brought a ch-k-hallah.”

He reached forward to take it from my hand, smirking, “You shouldn’t ch-have.”

The moment was cut short by Buffy’s phone going off.  Cyrus, surprisingly, was immediately on the defensive, “Who’s texting you, we’re all here?”

Andi immediately sounded peeved, “Don’t bother, she won’t tell you.”

Cyrus, being Cyrus, immediately grew concerned instead, “Why not?”

Andi threw her glare at Buffy, “I don’t know.  It’s top secret.”

“Okay.” Buffy rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed with her friends, “If you must know…it’s Marty.”

Andi made a face.

Cyrus gasped, “What?”

I mean I felt stupid, but was I supposed to know who this person was?  Trying to sound less clueless than I felt, I gave them odd looks hoping they'd fill me in, “Who’s Marty?”

In unison, as if it would help me understand because I apparently should have already known, they rolled their eyes at me, “Marty From The Party?”

I mean, I’m sure Cyrus…or someone, would tell me later.

I chuckled at them, “Well that clears everything up.”

Andi smirked at Buffy, ignoring me, “So…you’re back in touch with Marty, huh?”

Buffy rolled her eyes, “I called him.”

“Ooo, you called Marty, so?”

Buffy was hiding to hide a smile.  Oh!  I get it.  She liked him, but didn't want to admit it. “I missed him.”

“Ohhh," Andi made this weird voice, teasing her, "she missed him.”

Buffy was blushing, “As a friend.”

As if the conversation was over when it was very clearly not, Andi simply sighed, apparently satisfied with the answer, “Whatever.”

“Okay, well we’ll talk about this later,” Cyrus pointed between his friends before turning his attention to me, “Let’s go put your Challah on the table—are you hungry?”

I actually was.   I kind of hadn’t eaten since before I made the Challah.

By the time I was able to get some food and return back to where they were sitting Cyrus had pretty much gotten me caught up to speed.  Something about kugel drama, Jonah being surrounded by all of Cyrus' Aunts, and finally Marty.  Who I guess was just a “friend” of Buffy’s.  He said it was a whole story, but didn’t actually say more than they were friends, like just friends.

“There might be more room on the benches outside, maybe we should go outside,” Buffy had this voice that I could only interpret as manipulative, but because I didn’t know who it was aimed at I attempted to ignore it.  Everyone seemed to go along with it though because next thing I knew we were all sitting at the benches outside.

“I feel like this is the longest conversation I’ve ever had with you Andi,” I mumbled uncomfortably, trying to ease what felt really awkward as I sat down on the bench I ended up sharing with Cyrus.

She was trying very hard to be nice, I had to give her credit, “Sounds like it.”

“I uh…I guess I should apologize.  I get that you guys aren’t really my biggest fans." I cringed, turning my attention to Cyrus who was glancing at me encouragingly, "You haven’t ever really liked that me and Cyrus are friends.  You love him so much you want to protect him.  I uh…I do too,” I blushed immediately realizing the implications of what I just said, backtracking, “I want to protect him.  I’d never purposely put him in bad situations.  I just made the wrong call. I won’t do it again.”

It was Andi that immediately pressed me, “And how do we know you won’t?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know.  I just…I wouldn’t.  I changed,” I looked to Buffy, “For real this time.”

She just stared at me for what felt like forever. Analyzing me.  It was a little unnerving.

Tell me why Buffy suddenly got scary the second I started to like her best friend.  She didn't make me nervous before.

“I just…I want to move on.  Start over, I guess.” I stuck a hand out to Buffy, “I know you have like a billion reasons to not like me, but…give me a chance to show you who I really am.  I’m TJ.  Not TJ Captain of the Basketball Team,” I glanced to Cyrus, “Not Scary Basketball Guy,” I glanced to Andi, “Not the idiot who put Cyrus in danger by introducing him to his idiot ex-friends.  Just TJ.”

Andi sighed, conceding, “If Cyrus forgave you, I guess I kind of have to too.  I mean, I forgave Amber after everything, and she ended up being pretty great.”

Buffy rose an eyebrow at me, accepting my hand as she shook it, but still looking at me suspiciously, “I forgive easily. But I do not forget.  I will not hesitate to come after you.”

“Oookaayy, now that that’s settled, why don’t we talk about school?" Cyrus interrupted, glancing between the three of us, "What’s your favorite elective?  Favorite sports?  Anything, really…”

I chuckled at Cyrus trying to break the tension.  Classic.

“We can talk about Marty again—” Cyrus interjected, not even waiting for any of us to answer.

“No we will not,” Buffy glared at him.

Thankfully it seemed like Andi and Buffy genuinely attempted to involve me after the initial tension.

It wasn't long, however, before the girls got off topic and started talking amongst themselves.  Buffy and Andi started talking about something relating to Andi’s parents wedding, and how she wanted to design her bridesmaid dress and all of sudden I saw Cyrus eyes gloss over.

“I know I’m…” he paused, immediately blushing, “I mean… I’m not I’m not the most manly person in the world,” Cyrus whispered to me, “But I’m not exactly a women's fashion expert.  The only thing I know about fashion is like fancy clothes—unless you count my fedora collection…or my button ups.”  He shook his head at me, “I’m okay with being excluded from that conversation.  Fashion's overrated.”

“You’re definitely not a fashion expert,” I chuckled, and in that moment I realized how close we were.  His face was inches from mine.  I guess that’s what happens when you share a lounge couch, “We already established your button ups do not count as fashion.”

Cyrus looked affronted at this, his hand dramatically pressed against his heart, “Says the man who wears basketball shirts like his life depended on it.”

“It’s called dressing athletic.”

Cyrus rose an eyebrow, crossing his arms at his chest, “It sounds lazy to me.  Next thing we know you’ll be one of those high school jocks who wears nothing but sweats and slippers to class.  I don't know if I could associate with you then.”

“Excuse me, I know how to clean up,” I glanced down at my outfit, blushing.  I know I sounded self-conscious, I don’t know why I do this to myself.  I mean, everywhere else I was cool, collected TJ, but he was like the one person whose opinion I cared about.  It sucked ‘cause it always made me so nervous I’d say or do or be the wrong thing around him, “I thought I looked nice.”

Cyrus’ eyes widened; immediately apologetic.  He didn't expect my sudden lack of confidence either, “You…no you do like nice.  I mean…look nice”

I smiled at him, looking down at my outfit, happy to have his approval before glancing back at him, “You look nice too,” I picked at his yarmulke, grabbing it off of his head and sort of playing with it as I brought it to my lap, “I like the hat too.”

“It’s a kippah,” he immediately reached to grab his yarmulke back, tearing it out of my hands and adjusting it self-consciously back to his head, “A traditional and sacred Jewish head covering.”

I chuckled at him, “I know.”

It was at that moment that I heard muffled giggling.

I immediately turned to glance at the girls. Andi was busy having some nonverbal conversation with someone behind us, but Buffy, she was glancing right at me, trying to hide a smile.

I don’t know what the hell she was thinking, but I suddenly got very self-conscious.

Buffy made me nervous.  She was nosy.

“If you’ll all excuse me,” Cyrus stood up, adjusting his shirt, “I need to use the gentleman’s room.”

I know I must have looked desperate, because he immediately stopped, looking slightly guilty, “You’ll be fine TJ.”

He didn’t even give me a chance to respond before he walked away.

Suddenly Andi was standing up, continuing to have some unsaid conversation with someone behind us.

Finally I decided to just turn around because whatever conversation she was having was kind of annoying when I didn’t know the whole situation.

Jonah was apparently waving Andi over pretty aggressively.

In a huff, finally she stood up to talk to him.

The next thing I knew it was just Buffy and me.

And she was just staring me down.

“Uh,” I coughed, growing uncomfortable, “How’s the girl’s basketball team going?” I considered my words, “I was only able to go to that first game… I’m actually sorry, I’ve been meaning to go.  There's only a couple home games left, right?”

She looked like she considered saying something rude but suddenly she let out a long sigh. It was then that I realized she felt relief finally talking about her team with someone who’d understand, “Not any better than the beginning.  But at least we have a coach now.”

“Who?”

Buffy shrugged, “It doesn’t matter.  It’s just an adult who was willing to supervise us.”

“I’m sorry.  I wish the school supported you guys more.  Too bad coach wasn’t willing to coach both teams.”

“Yeah, well…he has a family to go home to.” She shrugged, a determined look in her eye, “It’s fine.  I’m learning ‘valuable leadership skills’.”

“Yeah, but aren’t you sort of…overwhelmed?  That’s a lot of pressure.  And we still have school stuff.”  I mean if anyone could do it, it was Buffy, but still she shouldn't have had to.

She glared at me for daring to believe she was human, “You clearly don’t know me if you think I can’t handle it.”

“I,” my face grew red with embarrassment, “No I definitely think you can handle it.  But it doesn’t mean like…you should.”

She let out another sigh, “There’s this new girl.  She was really good, and sometimes I wonder if it would have been worth it keeping her on the team…maybe then we’d win,” she paused, “but it wouldn’t have been right.  She was awful.  Like you level awful but worse somehow.  Like you were just an entitled jerk…she’s that plus like she’s convinced she’s the best thing to happen to basketball.”

I chuckled at her, “I’m glad you drew the line there.”

“Well you’re not the best thing that’s happened to basketball.”

I shrugged at her, “I mean not yet at least.”

She rolled her eyes at me, but I was encouraged to see a smile behind it.  She knew I was joking.  Thank god.

“Anyways,” she continued, “I had her try out and she was really good, but just a terrible sport.  I had to cut her after one practice.  She called the team a hot mess…to their face,” she considered her words, “I mean I said that too…but like not to their face.  You don’t say stuff like that to someone’s face, even if it’s true.”

“They’ll get better.” I attempted to offer.  I mean, lord knows I’ve been on some awful basketball teams and there was always some sort of silver lining.

“The point was,” Buffy scoffed at me, “she shouldn’t have said it to them.  Or said that I called them that.”

“What a great captain you are,” I teased.

“The point,” she groaned, “is do I regret that decision?  Just those games were losing like 50 to 2.  But then I think…I’d be a way worse captain if I kept her energy around.  And they already don’t like me sometimes.” She paused, “Like, I don’t know…I mean, it sounded like you really started to change right around the time I left.  And I keep thinking, if I would have come back in time for the end of last season, you probably would have actually been a decent captain to me…like at the end maybe,” she almost looked self-conscious, “I mean you were actually a good captain to everyone else.”

I sighed, “If it makes you feel any better the team is basically in mutiny.  I’m not their favorite person.  So I guess we’re even on being unpopular captains.”

“Why?”

“A couple of my ex-friends are on the team,” I shifted in my seat, kind of uncomfortable considering this was one of the first times I was admitting it out loud to anyone; but Buffy, out of everyone would understand.  Especially as a captain.  “And after the whole gun situation they sided with my friend Reed.  They kind of treat me like I treated you last season.  Except it’s worse because some of the guys…like they respect me ‘cause they have to as captain, but they don’t really talk to me as friends anymore.  They thought what I did was unnecessary and backstab-y or something.  I’m not most of their favorite person right now,” I sighed, “Which kind of sucks because this season was going really well before then.  I felt like I was really being a good captain.”

“You did do the right thing.  You know that TJ?”  She paused, “Cyrus…he told us that you reported the gun.  And I am sorry that people stopped being your friend over it.  But they weren’t real friends if they don’t understand why you did what you did.”

“I don’t know why I did what I did, though.” I groaned, “And sometimes I feel like it’s not even worth it if it caused this much drama.”

She offered a small smile but nothing else.  I guess she couldn’t figure out what to say.

“Are we cool Buffy?”  I suddenly let out.

She shrugged, “Well Cyrus he uh…basically told us we have to give you another chance because he can handle himself,” she rolled her eyes, “And our thing in our crew is that we give chances…seriously, I don’t think all my friends would be so close with Amber if we didn’t,” she shook her head at the thought, “I mean, I still don’t get it, but Andi and Cyrus love her, so I guess she’s a thing.”

“Who’s Amber?”

Buffy rolled her eyes, “It’s a very long story.  But basically she’s Jonah’s ex girlfriend who we didn’t like because she was a Snorpion, but then I guess we like her now.  Don’t ask.  Anyways,” she attempted to continue, “I don’t know…if Cyrus sees something good in you, I guess it has to be there.  Cyrus is good about that sort of stuff.  I mean, he’s horrible at initial assessments; like not a badge judge of character, just no judge of character, so easy to manipulate—seriously never take him to a flea market, he will spend all his money at booths, he’s exactly the type of sucker those people love." She shook her head as she realized she was getting off topic, "But like it's all in a loveable way, because usually he thinks the best of people.  But besides that, he’s pretty good at understanding people once he knows them.  You know, with all the psychoanalysis he does." She smiled at me, "So…it’s been like a year and after everything if he says you’re redeemable, he’s probably right.”

“Do you really think I’m a bad guy?”

She shook her head, “No.  And…I don’t know.  You seem different.  Happier.  I don’t get why you two are friends, it makes no sense to me, but I don’t know.  It makes sense to you two and that's what matters. And...he's different since he met you.” She smiled, “Plus, it’s kind of sweet seeing this like…nicer side of you.”

I scoffed at her, “How could I be anything but nice to Cy?  He’s like the nicest person in the world.”

“Cy?” She smirked at that before letting out a full chuckle, “I just mean…like you were never mean to Cyrus.  It’s cool to think that the tough looking basketball captain saw my dorky friend one day and was like…yeah, I want to be friends with him.”

I blushed at that.

She glanced at me knowingly, “Is that not what happened?  He told me about the swings.  Plus like…I was there.”

Which time?  I couldn’t help but blush.  Looking back at that day I was definitely unknowingly flirting with him.  I mean who does that?  Pushes someone on a swing unless their flirting with them?

“I uh…I forgot about that.”

Lies.

She suddenly looked serious, she crossed her arms at her chest, “I’m not saying you can’t hang out…mostly because Cyrus said we’re not allowed to do that anymore,” she paused, “But seriously, if you put my best friend in danger again, I will seriously hurt you.  And if you hurt his feelings in any way, I will pretty much—”

“Yeah yeah, Buffy.”

“Seriously though,” she leaned forward, whispering, “he…he doesn’t have a lot of guy friends.  I can’t be friends with him in the same way another guy can.  I can’t offer him what you can, so like…don’t ruin this friendship for him, okay?  I mean, I know he has Jonah and they’re close, but…he really values what you two have so don’t one day decide you’re too cool for him.  ‘Cause you’re not.  He’s too cool for you.”

“Buffy.” I reassured her, “I know.  He’s one of my best friends too.  Kind of my only.”

Cyrus was saying something excitedly as he approach us, but I couldn’t even process what he was saying as he basically stopped talking the second he got within a few feet of us.

He was suddenly smiling really big, “Did you just call me your best friend?”

I rolled my eyes at him, “Why do you act like I haven’t told you that?”

He shrugged at me, plopping next to Buffy, “It just feels different when you say it in public I guess,” he smiled, his eyes glossing over, “Real.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, “Gross.”

“Does that mean you’ll sit at our table?” He beamed at me.

“Still no on that one.”

Buffy chuckled, snarky, “We didn’t want you there anyways.”

“Buffy, be nice.”

She looked affronted at that, “I was!  We had a whole almost pleasant conversation.”

Buffy’s phone dinged.  She ignored it.  It dinged again.

Cyrus did this suspicious looking glance with his eyebrows, “Marty?”

She rolled her eyes at him, “No…I mean yes.  But no.  It’s not a big deal Cyrus.”

Cyrus shrugged, “Whatever you say.”

“I meant…Andi just texted me that Jonah is trying to use her to like distract the older ladies.  I guess they’re trying to set him up with their granddaughters, and he just told them that he was dating Andi, and Andi said they weren’t and now apparently she wants me to fix the situation somehow.” She glared at Cyrus, “Which really you should fix, they’re your aunts after all...”

“No no, I will not go near them.  They’ll come after me, and Andi already told me what my Aunt Ruthie said.”

“What’d your Aunt Ruthie say?”

They both looked at me like she said something heinous.  Almost in unison, answering, “Don’t ask.”

“Someone’s gotta’ take some control around here,” Buffy rose from her seat, marching very determinedly towards the back door.

I don’t know what exactly happened, but all I know is that Buffy never came back.  She did for a second, to say goodbye to Cyrus before she left with Andi for some sleepover or something.  But the next thing I knew was that it was nearing almost 7 and I think I was one of the last guests there.

My dad had texted and asked what time he needed to pick me up, but I never answered.

I’d probably get in trouble for it later—and honestly I half expected him to just show up out of spite—but maybe he figured if I waited long enough without replying I’d find my own ride home, or spend the night.

Not that I would spend the night, Cyrus looked tired, but he tried not to let it show.

We just kept talking and talking.  It felt like we’d talked about just about everything, but then we found more things to talk about.

And then, suddenly Cyrus got somber, “Me and Bubbe Rose.  We were so close.  She’s not supposed to have favorites, but I know I was.  I’d visit her every other Sunday.”

“I never really knew my grandparents on my mom’s side.  My grandma died when my mom was in high school and grandpa passed when I was like 1.” I paused, “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

“I just…I can’t believe she’s gone.”

Without even really thinking about it, I set a hand on his knee.

He glanced up and offered a sad small smile.

“I know she was older, but,” his eyes got big as his mind went somewhere else, “she was so full of life.  I don’t know,” he swallowed, “Maybe I convinced myself that she was invincible.”

I didn’t even really process I was doing it, but I looked down to glance at my hand and my thumb was brushing his knee.  I didn’t dare say anything.  Something in me told me not to.

I had all these flashbacks to when Billie and I were younger and her anxiety was really bad.  She never let me see her full on panic attacks, she’d hide in her room when she had those, but there were a lot of times where I just sat with her and let her talk stuff out.

It was crazy, she’d go from like really stressed out to suddenly calm.

It was definitely the reason we were so close.

And, looking at Cyrus, just listening and setting a hand on his knee was enough.  It was keeping him calm too.

“I feel like the best way to honor her memory, this brave adventurous woman…I have to live with that bravery too, you know?  I have to live a life where I’m being 100% Cyrus, no fear.”

I chuckled at him, “And who is that?”

Cyrus glanced at me, suddenly looking slightly nervous, “I…well I don’t know.”

“I don’t know,” I chuckled, “I think you’re already pretty brave.  You’re never afraid to be who you are.  You just…are.”

He shook his head, “That’s not 100% true.”

I let out a sigh, considering my words, “Well you’re braver than me.  In like everything.  I’ve never met someone so…willing.  Like you dive in head first to anything, even when it scares you.  I couldn’t do that.”

“TJ?” Cyrus voice got really soft.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

I understood.  Thank you for pushing me.  Thank you for being here.  Thank you for being my friend.

“Cyrus?”

“Yeah?”

“Everything’s gonna’ be okay.  Maybe not today.  But it will be.”

Cyrus offered a smile for a fraction of a second before it immediately dropped.  He was trying really hard to hold back tears.

He was trying so hard to be strong.

I don’t know if it’s ‘cause I was around or because he just didn’t want to cry anymore, but I didn’t like that he was trying at all to hide how he was feeling.

He didn’t ask for it, and I don’t even know if he wanted it, and plus we’d never exactly hugged before so I don’t know if he’d get weird with me over it, but I just knew that he needed a hug.

Or…I guess I’d want a hug in that sort of situation.

I removed my hand from his knee and wrapped my arms around him, as awkward as it was with us sitting side by side.

He sort of fought it for a moment, his body very stiff, before he suddenly collapsed into my chest.

The next thing I knew he was crying, his face sort of nestled in between my arm and where my heart was.

We must have stayed there for like 5 minutes.  And I could hear that he stopped crying, but he sort of stayed there, sniffling.

Plus, I kind of refused to let him go, and I think he was aware of that.

I wanted to remain in his arms forever, but I knew it was getting late.  And I was probably already in trouble for not texting my parents back.

I should leave, it was already dark and my mom would already have a fit about me trying to ride my bike this late at night.

I let out a cough as I slowly released him, “I…should go…home.”

Cyrus offered a small grateful smile.

“Walk me to the front?”

He nodded, still not saying anything.  But it was honestly enough, because he didn't have to.  In that moment we realized we both had each other.  Vulnerability and all.

Chapter Text

“Yo, Metcalf just sent out an email,” Eddie paused, stopping to take a long swig of his water as he read his phone, “Something something something…costume day.” 

“You actually read those emails?” Lee teased, “Haha, nerd.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes at that, “Apparently it’s on Friday.” 

Considering it was a Tuesday afternoon, that didn’t give any of us time to decide. 

I have to say though, I didn’t even have to think about it.  I knew exactly who I wanted to do the costume with. 

Maybe it could be an inside joke situation.  Like the muffins…not the bikes…or somersault! 

I wonder if there was anything we could do with somersault? 

I mean, I did have some fun board shorts I could wear... 

Lee decided the topic was not important to him at all, and attempted to ignore Eddie as he pushed us to return to drills.   

I didn’t blame Lee, he was sort of committed to the idea of taking my spot as Captain next year.  I didn’t doubt it would happen, he was pretty good and he was a really hard worker.  Plus, he pretty much ran the show at the park, and I let him.  Honestly, it was relieving not being ‘The Captain’ everywhere.  Mostly, the dude was just, committed in a way that reminded me of how I was last year when I had something to prove to people. 

I mean, put it this way.  He was in 7th grade and already talking about ‘preparing for High School ball”. 

Honestly, I thought his thinking was actually pretty smart.  High school practices were every day and 3 hours long.  Even on our long weeks, our practices were only and hour and a half long, and we only practiced three days of week—plus Fridays, when we had games. 

If any of us were going to be competitive at the high school level we definitely needed to get our endurance up to more than what our middle school practices asked of us. 

Plus, you know, we could work on the skills and drills we wanted to here at the park.  And with us all still running off of post-practice energy, we transitioned seamlessly into today’s drills. 

Honestly, I genuinely appreciated Lee and Eddie’s willingness to practice as much as they did, Jack and Connor never cared this much.  It made me feel much better about...you know, having to start my social life over near the end of middle school. 

I wouldn’t say we were close at all, because we pretty much only hung out in this setting, but I definitely got along better with Lee and Eddie. 

Next thing I knew Lee was arguing with Eddie. 

Lee wanted to practice lay ups.  Eddie wanted to take some free shots and goof off considering his mom had to pick him up in like 5 minutes. 

Lee, the drill sergeant he was, wasn’t having it. 

It took all of 30 seconds for Eddie to roll his eyes, take the ball out of Lee’s hands and perform a layup from half court. 

“Lee, you do realize we’re both gonna’ leave like really soon?” 

“We should at least be efficient with our time!” Lee gaped, exasperated. 

Eddie and I both glanced at each other and started laughing. 

Next thing I know we were just playing keep away from Lee, making shots where we could. 

We were only a couple minutes into annoying Lee when I spotted a group of girls approaching our court. 

One of them looked oddly familiar.  I don’t know why though.  I was always so bad with faces. 

“TJ!”  She yelled out. 

I was obligated to respond to her, she obviously knew me.  Without even really thinking about it—maybe I was enjoying annoying Lee a little too much and knew walking away without warning would annoy him—I walked right off the court, and towards her. 

She was holding a basketball.  Maybe this was one of Buffy’s players? 

But I knew most of them.  Like, not well, but I’d met them.  I waved at them in the halls.  She didn’t look like any of the girl’s I remembered. 

“I’m Kira,” she introduced herself as I approached her, “I play too.” 

Oh,  this  was Kira.  Buffy told me all about her.  I knew exactly who she was. 

Proud of myself for figuring that one out so quickly, I smiled, “I know.” 

She didn’t mince words.  She jumped straight for what she wanted from me, “Any chance I could try out for the boy's team?” 

Faking ignorance, I shrugged, “There’s a girls team now.” 

Her lips thinned.  That wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear.  “Yeah that didn’t really work out.” She paused, “Buffy kicked me off.” 

I grimaced at that.  I didn’t mean to taunt her, but the whole situation was sort of funny in a messed up way.  I mean, from what it sounded like, she probably wouldn’t have been a good energy or a team player, but who was I to talk, the boy’s basketball team was full of selfish people who rarely acted like a team.  I mean, I was just as bad, last year. 

Still, weirdly she kind of reminded me of Buffy in a way, like her pushiness, “Yeah…I heard.”  I reasoned, trying to salvage the situation at least for her sake, “It’s too bad, you’re a good player.” 

And now that I thought about it, I did remember her.  Jack had been super into a Monarch’s player at the time—Lily, was that her name?  Anyways, it was like pre-season and there was this big co-ed tournament, so in between our games, Jack dragged me to go watch the Monarchs play. 

In any case, now that I think about it, I think that’s why I recognized her.  She was that one Monarch’s player that was really really good.  She was responsible for like 80% of the shots made in those games we watched. 

Still, Kira looked sort of proud of herself that I knew who she was.  She smiled at my response, “How do you know?” 

I shrugged, ‘cause the answer was pretty simple. “Oh, ‘cause I’ve seen you play,” I was proud of myself, because hey, basketball was my realm and I sort of prided myself on knowing what went on in this area when it came to the sport.  I wouldn’t say I knew everyone, but I feel like I knew most everyone in the basketball circuit in this area.  I smiled, “I went to a couple Monarch’s games last year.” 

“Oh, did you?” She made this weird voice at me.  She was still smiling. 

And that’s when it hit me.  I was genuinely just being nice to her, talking to and even complimenting her as a fellow baller, and she was definitely taking it as me flirting. 

Oops.  Nooooo. 

Now I felt awkward. 

I was saved from saying anything stupid, by the voice of an angel in the distance.   

It was a voice pretending to be lower than it actually was, “Yoooo!” 

But I’d know it anywhere. 

I immediately turned, Cyrus was quickly approaching me. 

I beamed at the sight of him. 

I’d nearly forgotten that he’d asked if I wanted to do our English homework together. 

I mean, we weren’t exactly in the same class period, but we were in the same class. 

I had a total of two honors classes, English and History, and I was proud of that. 

Plus, you know, something to bond over with Cyrus.  Really I just wanted an excuse to hang out, and in middle school, that pretty much meant either hanging out at the park or homework. 

So why not both? 

“Cyrus, my man!” I smiled eagerly, pulling him into a hug, as we exchanged a bro shake that I had worked tirelessly to teach him over the last two months. 

He was improving, I was so proud.  It was almost natural for him. 

Plus, you know, an extra five seconds to touch his hand never hurt. 

“Teej, looking good!” Cyrus offered, pulling away from me, but not before sort of bumping against me playfully. 

“This is Kira,” I offered, glancing towards her, “Kira, Cyrus.”  

I didn’t mean to, as I exchanged introductions, but I felt myself like...definitely check him out.  I didn’t really get a chance to look at him as he approached me, ‘cause I was more just genuienly excited to see him.  But now that he was just inches away from me, it was all I could think of.  I just…kind of wanted to look at him. 

Now was definitely not the time though. 

There was definitely another person around. 

I attempted to drown my thoughts, as I returned my attentions to the girl in front of us. 

“Hey, uh, I actually know who you are,” Cyrus offered, seemingly proud of himself too. 

Kira offered a curt smile, through narrowed eyes, “You’re Buffy’s friend, right?” 

“Yeah.” Cyrus replied, though I could hear the growing discomfort in his voice. 

I wasn’t sure where this was going, but honestly, now that Cyrus was here, I didn’t really care, I was just ready to head off. 

Kira sort of nodded at him, considering something.  It made me turn my attention to him again. 

And before I could help it or stop myself I turned to him, waiting for a response from either of them. 

Except that response never really came and I was pretty much just staring at him. 

Not that I minded, but also, the more I stared the more I found it harder to look away. 

How long had I been staring? 

Finally, after what felt like forever, and apparently neither of them were going to say anything else to each other, he muttered to me, “You ready?” 

Helplessly, I nodded.  It’s all I could do.  I suddenly couldn’t speak. 

Like seriously, how did he have this much power over me? 

“I’ll find you later, yeah?” Kira turned to me. 

I nodded, not really caring, but I’m sure she would.  I’m sure all she would talk about was getting on the boy’s team. 

Which didn’t really bother me, considering I literally had no power over that, so she could be as kiss-up-y as she wanted to me, it wouldn’t do her any good. 

I didn’t offer her anything more as a reply as I wrapped an arm around Cyrus’ shoulder, pulling him forward towards the grassy part of the park.  I left an arm there for several seconds, maybe some weird protection mechanism.  It was just instinct. 

I mean, I guess I got why Andi and Buffy were so aggressive in protecting him.  He was such a pure innocent soul, it was almost instinct to shield him. 

After a few seconds I did remove my arm.  The more I thought about it, the more self-conscious I got about it.  And, I mean, I didn’t really have a reason to keep my arm there for very long, and we were in public.   

Walking with an arm around another person’s shoulder.  That sort of thing looked...coupley.  And…people got weird about boys acting coupley, you know? 

Not that Cyrus would even notice something like that.  He was sort of oblivious in that sense. 

If he wasn’t oblivious, he did an excellent job about absolutely not giving a crap what other people thought. 

But I mean, the reasonable answer was that, by definition, he had to be oblivious.  If he wasn’t oblivious, he would have picked up on the massive crush I had on him. 

Like, sometimes I felt like I made it so obvious.  Sometimes I straight up flirted with him…sometimes I got bold just to see if I could, and…nothing.  He never accused me of it.  Never got uncomfortable or wierd about it.   

I’m not saying he encouraged it, I’m just saying he didn’t notice or realize what I was doing. 

It was kind of fun, in a weird way.  Seeing how bold I could be. 

Plus, you know, it was weirdly relieving be able to actually flirt.  Even if he wasn’t technically receptive to it, I could at least release some of my thoughts into the world. 

And in any case, Cyrus was probably the safest person to do it around anyways. 

“She seems nice,” Cyrus attempted to offer, the moment we got out of her earshot.  But I could immediately tell he didn’t mean it.  Sure enough, he finished his statement, “If the word nice had a different meaning.” 

I chuckled at that.  Yeah, she did seem sort of…aggressive, but she seemed nice genuinely, so I was tempted to give her the benefit of the doubt. 

We took a few more steps before Cyrus continued, “So, uh…you guys hanging out now?” 

I hardly think meeting once counts as hanging out.  Although I  was  pretty much certain she’d find me again considering she knew some of the basketball guys practiced at that spot after practices. 

I wasn’t sure why Cyrus was asking though.  It’s not like I couldn’t have multiple friends.  Maybe he was asking  because  I was finally making friends. 

But he probably wouldn’t have asked with so much concern if he was happy I was making this new friend. 

I wouldn’t dare to think he was jealous.  And even if he was, I wouldn’t dare to think it was for  that  reason. 

I mean who cares anyways, there was literally no way she’d replace him. 

“Basketball you know,” I mumbled off-handedly, honestly not caring, because there were more important things to talk about.  I tapped his chest, making sure I had his full attention as I laid out my plan.  Because now I definitely had one, “Hey, I wanted to ask you.  What you got going on for costume day?” 

“Costume day?” He sounded amused, he teased me as he leaned towards me, “You don’t strike me as a costume day guy.” 

“I have layers.” Like an onion.  I was an onion.  I was like that one analogy in Shrek.  More than meets the eye.  Okay, I was distracting myself.  I shook my head, trying to focus, “Anyway, I have this idea.” And really it had just come upon me as we were walking just now, how exactly we’d execute it, “So one person dresses up in board shorts, sunglasses, and flip-flops.” Yes, perfect, “And the other dresses up like a salt shaker.” 

“Oh! Sea salt!” Cyrus stopped, turning towards me, evidently excited by the idea.  Honestly, it was sort of witty.  I’m definitely not smart enough to come up with that though. 

I forced a smile, “That would’ve been good, but no.” 

“Oh…no-no-no, don’t tell me, don’t tell me,” Cyrus considered things once more, doing that thing where he spoke and talked with his hands, pointing at me when he finally figured it out.  Gosh, it was the best.  His eyes got wide when he figured it out, “Somersault!” 

“Bam!” I placed my hands at both sides of his face, making an exploding motion.  He’d figured it out. 

He repeated the same motion, and the same words.  The whole thing made me blush, it made me feel like we sort of had a little moment. 

I mean, that was a moment, right? 

It didn’t matter.  I wouldn’t let myself overthink things.  I couldn’t. 

The second I started thinking that maybe things might be a little bit mutual was the day I embarrassed myself.  It clearly wasn’t like that.  I needed to remember that. 

Yeah, it was best to keep walking, keep talking.  Get my brain focused on other things. 

I mean, we still had a decent walk towards his dad’s house to conquer. 

I couldn’t help it.  My brain was still going.  This whole thing could have gone bad.  It could have been embarrassing.  Cyrus could have said the suggestion was weird or stupid, or hyping something up that wasn’t even a special thing.  Or he could have said the idea of doing a costume together was weird. 

But he didn’t.  He seemed genuinely excited by the idea. 

I couldn’t help my blush.  How did he not know I liked him?  I couldn’t even look at him as I uncomfortably, and self-consciously, chuckled to myself; trying to pretend like the idea had less specialness to me than it did, “I thought it was funny.” 

“It  is  funny.” 

A bit too eagerly, I pressed him, “So you in?” 

Cyrus smiled at me, “I call summer.” 

I didn’t want to tell him no, because I didn’t know if I could without disappointing him, but in this quickly made plan, I’d already envisioned myself in exactly what summer outfit I would wear. 

His smile immediately dropped at my face. 

But he didn’t give me the chance to say anything anyways, because he quickly reasoned, “Unless you want to be summer. I—” 

“Well, I already have the board shorts, and the sunglasses…” 

He interrupted me again, resolving the issue I accidentally caused, “I call salt.” His smile fell, “Oh, and I got to call Andi.” 

* 

It only took 24 hours for crap to hit the fan.  It was almost glorious in a devastating way, how quickly everything fell apart. 

It wasn’t fair. 

Seeing as how it was Wednesday, and we didn’t have practices on Wednesdays, the group of us proceeded to practice at the park for an entire 2 hours.  Our eventual goal, during the summer, was to work in three consecutive hours of practice time—something Eddie and I were pushing for now that High school was literally only months away. 

Plus, the High School coaches in the area were doing their rounds of the middle schools—for recruitment— and almost all of them mentioned Summer Basketball Camps, so I’d been a little aggressive in getting myself in shape for that. 

But then most of the guys had to leave, and I was still waiting for Billie.  She wouldn’t be around for at least another half hour—and I definitely didn’t want to walk home. 

I wasn’t sure what I’d do with that free time, but evidently I didn’t have to worry about it. 

It was like the moment Eddie left, Kira appeared out of thin air. 

I wondered if she did that on purpose.  Tried to get me alone? 

Is this how girls flirted?  Or was this still a basketball thing? 

Okay, I was definitely overthinking this. 

“I’ve been looking for you.” She smiled as she approached me. 

“I’m not hiding,” I offered, remembering that even though she was giving off a weird initial vibe, she had still been nice to me, so I had no reason to turn into jerky TJ of yesteryear—even though I had heard some things about her.  I gave her a genuine smile as I nodded, “What’s up?” 

She immediately sat down, as determined as ever, “I have a great idea for costume day.  Basketball related, but it needs two people.  Super simple.  You in?” 

“I already have a costume,” I cringed.  I sort of respected her effort though, but I didn’t see any reason to not be honest, I didn’t even know the girl.  And she wanted to do a costume. 

This was definitely flirting, right? 

She didn’t like that my answer was no right off the bat though.  She tried to play it off, but I could see that she was disappointed, “Oh.  What is it?” 

“Well, Cyrus and I are doing Somersault,” I smiled at the thought, genuinely excited.  Costume day was only two days away now, “It’s an inside joke.” 

“Eh, everybody loves an inside joke.” She said through gritted teeth, obviously uncomfortable, “They don’t understand.” 

That was kind of the point though, wasn’t it?  An inside joke just being something for the two of us.  I chuckled at the thought, as I rearranged my bag, which was slowly slipping out of my hand. 

She pressed on though, “My costume idea is really cool.” 

“Nah, I’m set.”  I was starting to get kind of uncomfortable now, and a little bit annoyed.  Like I already said no. 

“So you’d rather do a costume with Cyrus than with me?  Okay,” she stood up, this fake smile on her face, “have fun with that.” 

What was that supposed to mean?!  Cyrus was my friend, people did friend costumes all the time.  I didn’t even know this girl, and she expected me to drop everything and just do a costume with her?  Of course I’d chose him over her. 

Rather do a costume with Cyrus than with me?    

Wait, what if she meant like…I’d rather do a costume with a boy than a girl? 

I mean, you saw girl best friends do duo costumes all the time, and you saw like boy group costumes.  But I suddenly couldn’t think of a time where two boys did a duo costume. 

Would that come off couple-y?  Would people look at us and suddenly think we were a couple?  Would people think the whole thing was kind of gay? 

I mean, I’m sort of okay with the idea of maybe not being straight on my own, but the thought of other people knowing that I wasn’t straight?   

People would look at me and suddenly that was the only thing they’d be able to think of. 

I had a reputation.  Or I used to have one.  But I was still largely known as the ‘Basketball Captain’ around campus.  Someone who people looked up to.  Someone people at least  pretended  to respect purely because I was an ‘important’ person on campus.  And after everything, losing my friend group, I was already sort of in social dishevel.  I didn’t need to make it worse. 

And, honestly, I could see Reed and Jack definitely seeing me in a ‘couples costume’ and immediately spread rumors about it.  I think Reed already suspected I liked him.  I didn’t need to give him actual ammo. 

And like, I hated to say it, but now that I think about it, people would definitely look at me and Cyrus and think it was a gay thing.   

I mean no offence to Cyrus.  I mean in my wildest dreams I sort of wished he was into boys, but he had sort of a reputation too.  A single boy in a group of girls, someone who prides themselves on not being the most ‘manly’, whether or not it was true, people did already sort of think he might be gay. 

It wasn’t fair, and stereotypes were stupid.  But if he had that reputation and I had petty friends willing to spread rumors; if I showed up to school doing what looked like a couples costume with him, I’d be outed. 

Even if it was true, I’d have the social stigma of being gay whether or not it was true. 

And it was honestly something I was not ready for. 

Appearing different was never something I ever wanted to be in school, and this was something that would make me stick out. 

Especially considering there was always at least one gay kid on every campus, and at this point, no one at Jefferson had come out. 

Truth be told, I think we were all looking.  Judging each other to find out who’d come out first. 

And dammit, I wouldn’t be that person.

For the whole day and a half I sat in it.  Thankfully I didn’t see Cyrus at all, and we were both so busy I barely had time to text him.  But up until Thursday night he mentioned the costume with excitement. 

But I’d made my choice on Thursday.  I let Kira know ‘things fell apart with my other plans’ on Thursday.   

I couldn’t go along with a costume with Cyrus. 

I wasn’t ready for people to think that I might be different.  I wasn’t ready for people to talk about me.  And I didn’t like the thought of people judging Cyrus either. 

And as I thought of ways, wrote and rewrote texts I never sent.  Thought about calling, I couldn’t go through with it. 

Because I knew Cyrus would talk me out of it.  Because I couldn’t bear to hear the disappointment in his voice.  Because I knew if I told Cyrus  why  the idea of being in a costume with him made me so nervous, I’d have to talk about maybe possibly liking boys, and  I wasn’t ready to have that conversation with anybody.  Especially not the person who made me realize it. 

And I was a coward for not telling him, I knew that.  But I couldn’t think of any way to tell him. 

So when I saw him Friday morning, my heart broke.  He looked adorable.  He looked perfect, and as he approached me I saw the smile fall off his face slowly, as he processed that I was definitely not dressed. 

“Hey, where’s your costume?” He looked mildly annoyed, confused as he jogged up to me.  Well…that wasn’t true, he walked up to me, I damn near sprinted up to him in an effort at explaining myself.  He continued, “Without you, this is embarrassingly straightforward.” 

“Yeah I was gonna’ ca—” I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, and sure I meant that I tried to call, but none of that mattered because suddenly Kira interrupted me. 

Crap, I wanted him to find out from me, not from her.  Where’d she even come from, anyways? 

“C’mon Kippen.” She beamed at me, “Let’s see it.” 

Like I was ripping an actual scalding hot knife out of my body, I hesitated to unzip the jacket until I absolutely had to.  But just like that knife, every inch I unzipped burned more than I could imagine. 

I couldn’t hide my guilt as I opened my shirt to him.  I felt trapped, but deep down I knew this was all for the best.  This was for Cyrus too.  I was trying to spare Cyrus. 

“Double dribble.” She continued, as eager as ever, flashing her own shirt, “Get it?” 

Double dribble.  And illegal play, a foul.  Honestly that’s how I felt; wrong that I was doing this to him. 

“No, actually,” Cyrus glanced towards me, those knowing eyes.  I knew he’d never get it.  To him I just changed my mind on him, but he had to know I was protecting him, protecting our friendship from people who might think the worst of us. 

But I knew I’d hurt him, that I had to hurt him in the process of protecting him.  And honestly, looking into his eyes, I had no idea how to fix it.  He wouldn’t get it.  He wouldn’t want to. 

And I couldn’t think of anything to say to make it better. 

“C’mon, let’s show the guys on your team.” 

Yes, let’s show me off.  Let’s parade me as normal. 

I didn’t want it, but maybe I needed it. 

Nervously, I mumbled, knowing damn well it wasn’t enough, “Sorry…last minute decision,  I should’ve called.” 

But could I have?  What would I have even said?  He would have talked me out of it.  And that would have been bad.  For me.  For him.  For our friendship.  He thought to well of the world, but I didn’t.  They’d tear us apart, and he deserved better than that. 

I willed myself to walk away as I whispered, “Sorry.” 

I knew that he would forgive me.  He always did.   

I know I hurt him.  I knew he was looking forward to it.   

I know that Buffy really meant it when she said he valued our friendship, and that something like this would mean everything to him.  I got that.  But he meant a lot to me.  I  needed  to protect him. 

I knew this, but I hated how much this hurt me. 

But what else could I do? 

As I stared at my phone that night, and every night after that for an entire week.   I was just as blank as I was the night before Costume Day. 

Except now the guilt seemed to fill my entire stomach, and there was this twinge of sadness in pretty much every breath I tried to take.   

I don’t understand, but I felt like I was on the verge of tears anytime I stopped to pause, every time I had a moment to myself.  I spent the whole week so so anxious.  Afraid at any moment people were going to see through my pretending to be normal.  Angry at myself for hurting Cyrus, uncomfortable at being paraded around, uncomfortable that this girl I didn’t really know never left my side. 

None of it felt like me. 

I needed to talk to him.  To apologize.  I needed to talk to him.  I missed him.  But I had no idea how to say anything that would make this right without talking about everything. 

And I wasn’t ready for everything. 

“I swear to the…the freaking rock gods or jazz gods or some god,” Billie shook her head, distracting herself with her self-imposed confusion momentarily, before she returned to her wits, “If you don’t stop staring at your phone with that stupid sad face I am going to smack it out of your hands and throw it out the window.  You’ve been like this all week.  It’s really annoying.” 

I don’t know what I planned to say, because it was obvious to the both of us that I’d been pouting all week, but I didn’t expect to immediately let out a whimper. 

She rolled her eyes at me, evidently annoyed by my dramatics, “What the hell is going on?” 

“I…I don’t know.” 

“Do not put on that pouty face around me if you’re not going to tell me.” 

What could I tell her?  How could I word things without telling her everything? 

Sure, she’d probably have really good advice and talk some sense into me, but I wasn’t exactly ready for her to know about the whole...gay thing. 

As best I could, I tried to formulate a response, trying to stay vague on purpose, “You know how it was Costume Day last week?” 

“M-hm.” She poked at the notebook in front of her with a pencil, “You wore that stupid basic basketball shirt thing.” 

“I wasn’t supposed to wear that.” 

Her brows furrowed, “What do you mean you weren’t supposed to?” 

“I uh...was supposed to do my costume with someone else.” I swallowed, “But I didn’t.” 

I could tell she was mildly annoyed by my dramatics, but I didn’t care, “And why didn’t you?” 

“I…this girl Kira she wanted to do that basketball costume, she talked me into it I guess?” 

Billie glared at me, “That doesn’t explain why you’ve been in a mood all week.” 

“I don’t know,” I could feel myself get quieter, my face felt warm, “she wanted to do that costume with me even though I told her I was already doing a costume with someone, and she…” I swallowed.  Uh, I opened up this can of worms, how do I close the darn thing?  I mumbled, trying to keep my voice calm, quiet, “I don’t know, she…she made me think.” 

“T. J.” She seemed almost concerned now, if not confused, “What happened?” 

I sighed, “I was supposed to do a costume with Cyrus.  We had it planned and everything.  This inside joke.  And when Kira, she asked me to do a costume, I told her that.  But then she…she said people wouldn’t get it.  She made it sound weird that I’d want to do a costume with my friend.” 

Billie furrowed her brow, “Why would it be weird?” 

Did I have to spell it out for her? 

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “It just is, now that I think about it.” 

“No, you didn’t think it was weird until she put it in your head,” with a hint of annoyance in her voice, she pressed, “Why would it be weird?  You two are friends.  Friends do costumes together all the time.  Are you embarrassed of him or something?” 

“I...no...I’m not embarrassed.  It’s just, friends do costumes in like…groups.  Or girls.  You don’t…see boys…” 

My sister was genuinely annoyed now, but this time I knew it was at me, “What are you getting at, TJ?” 

“I don’t know,” I whined, annoyed at myself for talking about it and annoyed at her for making me feel even guiltier.  I couldn’t look at her, I just looked down at the blank phone screen in my lap.  I knew I was blushing, “She just…she made it sound like people would think things about…him…or me…or us or something…and I don’t…like people talking.” 

Billie got very quiet, and I didn’t know what her expression was because I was afraid of looking at her. 

Trying to turn away from that subject, I let out an audible sigh, “I just…I feel really bad about it.  I…I didn’t know how to tell him I couldn’t do the costume with him.  He was really looking forward to it, and like…I can only blame myself for getting him excited about it because the costume was my idea.  I don’t even know how to say sorry.  He looked so confused when I told him.” His disappointed face was all I could see in my mind, and now I was rambling.  It felt good to get this off my chest, and maybe I could get around this without getting like...too personal. 

I took a breath.  Long enough she could tell I was pausing, but I quickly began speaking before she could have a chance to talk over me.  I let out a long breath before continuing, “I couldn’t figure out a way to tell him that I was bailing, so like, I didn’t.  He just showed up in his half of the costume, and I…didn’t.  And he won’t tell me, but I know I hurt his feelings.  And I…I don’t like that I keep disappointing him.  I said I’d stop that, and like…I can’t stop ruining things with him.” 

“Teej,” Billie sighed, considering everything I just said, “Just sit down and talk to him.  Maybe explain what you told me and maybe he’ll get it.” 

I glared at her, “No he wouldn’t.  He’d tell me that other people’s opinions don’t matter.  He’d talk me into doing the costume with him,” I sighed again, “And he…he wouldn’t get it.  I was trying to protect him.” 

Bille sounded suspicious, “You were trying to protect him, or you?” 

I glared at her, “Does it matter?  I’m  tired  of people talking about me.  One thing or another.  It’s been pretty much all of middle school and I just…I want to promote without more drama.  And this whole thing seems like a pretty stupid reason. It’s just a costume, a stupid situation.  It’s fine…” 

“If any of that was true, you wouldn’t be in a mood.” 

“Well who cares what you think?” 

My sister glared at me, standing up from her seat, evidently done dealing with me, “As quote unquote stupid as all of this is, you need to apologize to Cyrus.  You should have at least warned him you were gonna’ bail on him.  That’s a crappy thing to do to someone, especially someone who’s had your back all year.” 

Chapter Text

Kira had mentioned wanting to practice drills this afternoon.

She’d insisted actually—and from the few weeks I knew her, she very much seemed like the type of person who always got what she wanted.  But, since I didn’t really have anything better to do on a Saturday afternoon, I agreed.

Like really, I was still sorely lacking in the friend department.  In a genuinely depressing way, I jumped at the idea of someone choosing to spend time with me, on purpose.

All I’d done for the past half hour, however, was wander the park. 

Considering I had to bike to get to the park—what with no one being home to drive me—I decided to stop by early before Kira said she'd be around.

I’m not really sure what my plan was, the whole showing up early thing.  Maybe see Cyrus?

No...that was definitely my plan.  To see if I could get Cyrus alone.

I don’t know what I’d say, but I needed to talk to him.

I mean, I knew he was still mad at me.  Well...I guessed he was mad at me.  It was the only explanation.

It had been two whole weeks since Costume Day.

And before I knew it, I hadn’t seen Cyrus in two weeks.

I hadn’t noticed him at the park, which was weird 'cause he was here a lot.

I didn’t see him around school.  That was weird too.

I mean, I hadn’t gotten around to asking him to hang out, that part was my fault.  But then again, I hadn’t exactly had time to hang out.

With Basketball season in full swing, almost over now in fact, I didn’t have time for much of anything anymore.  That was basically why we started having our afternoon study sessions—so we could keep in contact even with my busy-ness—but now, Cyrus hadn’t exactly mentioned wanting to study together since Costume Day.

Not to mention, he wasn’t really texting me all that much to even ask about studying. 

And when he did text me, his answers were short; one word.  Conversation ended quickly.  He seemed to make no effort in keeping them going.

Not to mention, he never initiated the conversations anymore.  I had to, if I wanted to talk to him.

And this was coming from the person who, only months ago and with zero warning and zero response from me—I was in the middle of a piano lesson—spent an entire hour over text talking about dinosaurs.

Ugh, this felt like the gun situation all over again.

Except this time I knew Buffy and Andi weren’t stopping him from responding.  He wasn’t responding all on his own.

I didn’t blame him.  He had been so excited about my idea.  He’d ditched Andi over it.  And all for nothing.

I’d probably embarrassed him too.  I’d be embarrassed over the whole thing, if I’d been in his shoes.

I’d basically stood him up.  Like even as a friend, that stuff hurts.

That part killed me the most.  I can’t imagine what was running through his head.  Did he think I hated him?  Did he think that I thought Kira was cooler?

Because I definitely didn’t.  I mean, Kira was cool, but she was a basketball friend.  Like Eddie and Lee were.

Hell, the four of us all sitting together at their table was as new an arrangement as Kira existing in my life was.

Yet nowadays that felt like that’s all my life was.  Daily morning tutoring.  My new friend group at lunch.  Basketball practice after school.  Basketball pick up at the park after practice.

And Cyrus was noticeably absent from any of it.

What was worst about all of it was that he hadn’t even mentioned the costume incident even once.  He pretended like it never happened.  But things were clearly different.

But maybe that was a good thing, yeah?  Maybe I didn’t have to explain things to him.  Maybe we could just move on from it without ever talking about it.

And worst case, maybe we needed some space.  Or…maybe I needed space.

Considering how the very idea of Costume Day inspired me to immediately decide to do a costume with Cyrus meant that I had fallen pretty hard.  I was damn near obsessed.

It was like the Reed situation all over again, but this time I knew what was going on in my own head.

I wonder how obvious I actually was?   If people could clearly see how and why I acted the way I did around him.  Like how did I come off?  Could people tell? 

I hated how hyper-aware I was getting.  I wasn’t like this before.

Well, before I realized that having a crush wasn’t as simple as having a crush.

Not in Shadyside.

I mean, was it noticeable that I liked him?  Is that what Kira meant, that it would be obvious that there was a ‘something’ between us?  Or was she just implying two boys doing a costume wasn’t…normal?

I didn’t care.  Either way wasn’t great.

I mean, in an abstract way I really could care less, being not ‘normal’.  And after I got over the initial fear, I decided on a personal level I didn’t really care if I was at least slightly gay—I mean, I wouldn’t put that title on it, but I was obviously at least not straight. 

And besides, of all the people to have a crush on? I was proud of my crush.  Cyrus was a good person.  Knowing he’d never like me back—and honestly not really being ready even if he did—it didn’t matter, because I’d always look back on this crush as someone I wouldn’t be embarrassed by.  He was sort of perfect, in his own goofy way.

What I wasn’t proud of?  The insecure part of me.  The 13-year-old part of me that needed approval from everyone in my life.  The part of me that hated the idea of people thinking I was different, broken, wrong.

And, at the end of the day, the world—or at the very least, Shadyside—was overwhelmingly straight.

And I wasn’t.  And in this town, different stuck out like a sore thumb.  Different was special.  I didn’t want to be special.  Or stick out.  I just wanted to blend in.  You know, at least look normal.

I mean, it was enough that my brain was permanently sort of malfunctioned, apparently the stuff God decided to give me on top of it was discovering a startling lack of straightness at the tender age of 13.

Like really, I could deny it all I wanted.  I mean, realistically Cyrus was my first and only crush so far, so I very well could develop a crush on a girl one day.

But I did know this.  Looking back, I’d probably had a small crush on Reed.  And now that I was aware of my not-straightness, I realized I had occasionally found other boys attractive too.

So I wasn’t straight.

I must be obvious.  I mean, I think Reed knew about my crush on Cyrus.  I think he's known.  And the only possible way he could have picked up on it was if I was obvious.  And I wasn't even really aware of it then. 

And I didn’t know how to hide that fact from everyone else now that I was aware of it.  I didn’t know how to hide my crush when it had gotten as big as it did.  I didn’t know how much longer I could go without someone realizing the truth.

Not when my brain malfunctioned the second Cyrus entered a room.  It would be soon if I didn’t watch myself.  I knew I was obvious.

And I was most definitely not ready for people to talk about who I liked like it was any of their business.  And a not straight captain of a team at the school?  They’d definitely talk.

Like, I knew realistically LGBT athletes existed, even at the high school level.  I read those stories on the internet, and a small part of me thought maybe one day I’d be okay with that being me.  But then a single thought flashed through my mind.  The same one as last week and the week before.

I didn’t know of any LGBT athletes at Grant, or any of the other Shadyside area schools.  If I came out in high school, I’d be known as the token ‘gay athlete’ of Grant High.  And I didn’t like the idea of the pressure that would put on me.  The way people would look at me, both positive and negative.  I didn’t want to be special.  I wanted to be me.

And truthfully, I’d rather nobody ever know that I was different, if different meant I was everyone’s business.

Not to mention, I certainly wasn’t ready for people to accuse me of liking Cyrus when he didn’t even know I liked him in the first place. 

Therefore, if me spending less time around him meant people wouldn’t think things about me—or about us—it was a necessary evil.

I pushed the thought to the back of my mind as I glanced down at my phone, just waiting for Kira to tell me that she was here, so that we could practice.

It was relieving that things were starting to feel normal again.  I had plans again.  I was busy again.  I had friends again.  Like not close friends, but people I could at least turn to now. 

They didn’t care about the drama back from months ago.  I mean, yeah only Eddie was in 8^th grade, and being friends with 7^th graders was sort of sad for the both of us, but at this point I wasn’t gonna’ pick and choose. 

Plus, my ‘new friends’ were basketball people, so it felt nice having basketball be such a huge part of my social life again. 

That’s probably why I gave Kira a chance, after everything.  I know how Buffy felt about her, and what she said; and I know that she, accidental or not, sort of made me feel weird about the whole costume situation, but she’d been nice to me.  I had to give her a chance, or else I’d be no better than the guy I was last year.

And again, she’d been nice to me.  And like, considering how many friends I had right now, I couldn’t exactly afford to be picky when people wanted to be friends with me.

And besides, the boys seemed to gravitate towards her.  She was the token girl of the group, something they gladly welcomed.  She kept up with us, we appreciated her competitive nature and her drive.  She fit in almost perfectly, so it was no surprise that suddenly she was practicing with our little crew almost every day.  I didn’t blame her for being aggressive about it, and she was convinced she’d ‘lose her skills if she wasn’t playing’.

I still think she was slightly convinced I could get her on the boy’s team, but there was no way Coach was going to get in the middle of that drama now that we had an actual girl’s team.

Not that I had any power there anyways.

Are you kidding?  Me trying to convince Coach to put a girl on the team?  He’d think I was trying to get a girlfriend on the team, and say no even faster.

And she was definitely not that.

Although, the more time she spent around me, the more I was convinced she kind of wanted to be.

I don’t know why though.

I tried not to think about it.  Not when I had a new friend.  Not when I had a guaranteed training partner who seemed as committed to basketball as I did.

My mind was going a million miles a minute, but just as quickly everything froze.

I finally spotted him.

Sitting by the ice cream cart, alone.

Without hesitation, I freaking bee-lined to him.

I missed him so much at this point, I’d be willing to admit it out loud.

“Hey.” I offered, as I pulled up a chair next to him.  He was on his phone.

“Hey.” He forced a smile, slowly pulling his concentration from his phone.

I thought maybe I’d start out with a ‘How are you’ or even ‘Where have you been?’ but instead my inner psyche overrided the logical part of my brain and immediately pressed him.  I didn’t regret it, but also, I cringed at my own lack of tact, “Are you avoiding me?”

Cyrus looked genuinely taken aback by this, “Never.”

It sure felt like it. I swallowed, “Kind of feels like it.”

He forced a smile again.  He was clearly upset with me, “You’ve been otherwise occupied.”

Huh?

He looked at me like it was obvious, “You’re spending a lot of time with Kira.”

“Not a lot.” I swallowed, I mean, it wasn’t exactly like that, “Some.”

“The bulk of.”

Why did it matter?  I was allowed to have multiple friends.  In fact, he should be proud of me.“We’re just hanging out.”

“You two are clearly hitting it off,” he pretended to smile again, ugh, I hated this, “which is great, I’m happy for you.”

“You make it sound like we’re a couple.  We’re not.”  I scoffed.  Was he mad, like he thought I chose a girl over hanging out with him?  It wasn’t like that, not at all. “We mostly just talk about basketball.”

He rose an eyebrow at me, clearly seeing something I wasn’t, “And then you give her a piggyback ride?”

Okay, yeah, that happened.  And I’m sort of embarrassed he saw it.  But it wasn’t anything special.  I didn’t even realize what was going on until she was already on my back.  Like honestly, it annoyed me for a second but also the whole thing was sort of funny so I didn’t really think anything of it.

“She bet me I couldn’t carry her,” I reasoned, because it was true.  That’s what she said.  I’m not sure why I was defending myself considering it wasn’t like that with her, “that was all.”

Oh my god?  Did that come of flirtatious?  Was she flirting with me?  Did both Cyrus and Kira think I was flirting back by just joking?

Cyrus didn’t even pretend to sound happy this time, “She seems fun.”

“She is.” I reasoned, brilliant, Cyrus liked everybody.  Cyrus would like her, “You should hang out with us.”

“I’m not sure how much Kira would want that.” He cringed, looking uncomfortable, “She knows I’m Buffy’s best friend, after all.”

Before I could retort that he was wrong, a third voice interrupted us.

It was Kira herself, pulling up a seat.

“Heeeyyy,” she smiled at me, before turning to Cyrus; she got sort of short with him.  Okay, point proven, but we could work on that, “Hi, Cyrus.”

“Hi, Kira.”

I quickly took over the conversation, trying to fix the awkward tension that just appeared.  I don’t know why it was such an issue being friends with the both of them.  Buffy’s drama wasn’t my drama, “I was just telling Cyrus he should hang out with us.”

“You should.”  She sounded like she meant it.  Or wanted to.  I don’t know, maybe I could fix the bad blood between everyone in the process.

Knowing I definitely shouldn’t try to get in the middle of it, but eager to see conflict resolved, I let myself believe things would be okay, by answering, “See, she agrees!”

“Thanks, but um…” he was starting to stand up, he looked really uncomfortable, “right now I gotta…scoot.”

Ugh, he was trying to avoid me.  Dammit.  This whole conversation was a bust.

I didn’t want him to leave.  Helpless, I whined, “Where?”

“You know…people to go,” he stumbled out of his chair, “places to see.”

I was grasping at straws here, trying to get him to stay, to say something.  To say he wasn’t mad, “Some other time?”

“Definitely.”  It didn’t sound like he meant it though.  He glanced over to Kira before looking back at me, “Kira, always a treat.”

“Bye.” I forced out.  This whole situation hurt.  And it was 100% my fault.  And now I got to watch him walk away for what felt like the billionth time.

All of a sudden a voice interrupted my thoughts, “Hello?  I’m…over here!”

I know she was trying to get my attention, but in my defense Cyrus and I needed to talk for real, and considering he was definitely mad at me or avoiding me or something, I didn’t care all that much that my focus wasn’t on her.

But the moment passed, and I quickly realized Kira didn’t even bring a basketball.  I don’t really know why she bothered to come up and talk to me if it wasn’t a basketball thing.  I mean, she was the one who wanted to play basketball this afternoon.

I don’t know, maybe I thought this was one of those ‘basketball only’ friendships.  You know, the ones where you’re literally only friends on the court, and you never acknowledge each other out of it?

It was fine, I guess.  Kira didn’t even realize she’d forgotten her basketball until we’d sat in silence for nearly a minute after Cyrus had left.

She bounded in her seat, “Oh my gosh, I forgot the basketball!”

I chuckled at her hysterics.

“It’s not funny!  That was like the whole point!”

I shrugged, “Maybe we can join someone else’s game.”

She frowned at me, already starting to stand up, “Yeah...”

I’d taken four steps before my curiousity got the best of me.  Like word vomit.  I don’t know why I was surprised at this point, I never controlled what came out of my mouth.

“I mean, I know why I don’t have plans on a Saturday, but how come you don’t have plans on a Saturday?  Basketball at the park, kinda’ boring?”

She glared at me, “It’s not exactly easy to make friends when you transfer at the end of middle school.”

I shrugged at that, “But we’re like 7 months into the school year.”

“Yeah, well,” she got quiet for a second, “I don’t really get along very well with girls.  I guess it’s ‘cause I like sports and they like things like shopping.  So...a little slow to meet people I guess.”

I shrugged, “It happens.  I mean, I’m starting over late in middle school too.”

“The guys mentioned something about you being new to their group...uh...what happened?”

I shook my head at her.  It’s not like it was a secret, but I guess I just didn’t really want to dig too deep into it again, “It’s a long story.  I just, I made the wrong people mad I guess.  It’s cool though, I like the guys.”

I immediately caught my wording, but it was too late.

If she caught it too, she didn’t respond, “Yeah, you’re all pretty cool.”

“If it’s not too personal, why did you move?  It’s not like Monroe’s that far away.”

She stopped walking at my question, and she stopped blinking.

“My uh, my grandma’ passed away.  So they sent me to live with my dad.  Dad lives close to Jefferson. I had to transfer.”

“How does your...?”

She forced a smile, “I lived with my grandma.  My mom passed away a few years ago, and my parents weren’t ever really together.  So...they had to send me somewhere.”

I wish I could relate, but I couldn’t.  I had both my parents, we all lived under one house.

“You should talk to Cyrus, his parents got divorced.  He lives between houses a lot.”

She glared at me, “Yeah well at least his parents want him.  My dad didn’t want me.  Ever.”

I turned red.  I didn’t know what to say.  And I certainly didn’t expect her candor.

Feeling awkward, I attempted to change the subject, “So how’d you get into basketball?”

She took the bait.  Or at least she wanted to move on.  She shrugged at me, “I have a lot of older boy cousins.  They always played, I grew up around it, I guess.  It just made sense for me to play.  I’ve been playing since I was really little.  This is kind of the first year I’m not.”

“I’m sorry, by the way, the way things worked out.”

She shrugged again, “It’s whatever.  I wouldn’t want to play for Jefferson’s stupid girl’s team anyways.  What a joke.  Now I can focus on Summer Ball.  Tryouts for the U-16 travel team are in two months.  You’re doing Summer Ball too, right?”

I nodded, “If I make the team.”

She let out a sigh, “Now I just have to convince my dad to pay for it.”

I rolled my eyes at that, “Tell me about it, my parents are gonna’ freak when they find out how much the league costs.”

She didn’t say anything at that.

“So uh,” she paused, “You’re really friends with Buffy and all of them?”

I forced a smile, “They’re good people, really.”

“They seem pretty cliquey to me.”

I shrugged.  They kind of did seem that way from the outside I guess.

“So like, you and Buffy.  Do you ever plan basketball stuff together?”

I genuinely didn’t know what she meant.

“I help her out with the team...sometimes.  I don’t...I guess I don’t really pay attention.  I don’t...really talk to her that much.”

“Good, she seems like she thinks she’s all that.”

I shrugged, “She can come off that way, I guess, sometimes.  But she means well,” I paused, chuckling, “I mean, she definitely always has to be right though.”

“What do you mean?”

I continued to chuckle, “I’m not super proud of it, but last year Cyrus told me that if I told her she was right, I’d be able to manipulate her.” I paused, “It actually sort of worked.  Definitely not worth it though.  She got super mad at me.  It caused a whole drama with Cyrus too.  I felt bad about that.”

“Their whole friend groups sounds like a lot of drama.  I heard stories,” her eyes widened, “someone said they started a protest last year?”

“Oh yeah,” I chuckled, “Yes, they’re very determined.” I paused, “I was on the receiving end of their anger once...well a lot of times actually.  It sucked.”

“Why?”

“Oh, mostly for stupid stuff.  One of the times they’d like physically push Cyrus away whenever he was near me.  And like, it’s not like Cyrus even saw me half the time they did that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.  They’re protective of him.  And I guess I can be a bad influence.  Or...I was.”

“So, you and Cyrus.  You’re close?”

We were.

“He’s one of my best friends.”

“How does the Captain of the basketball team end up best friends with a dork like him?”

I immediately grew defensive at that, “He’s not a dork.”

She rolled her eyes, “Fine...but he’s obviously very very different from you.  You can’t argue with me on that.”

I shrugged, “He was just nice to me I guess.  And people last year...they weren’t nice to me.  He’s a really good guy.  Like probably the best listener and best advice giver.”  I found myself getting lost in the compliments, “Plus, I think he’s my impulse control...like from making bad decisions.”

She sounded curious, “So you spend a lot of time together?”

“I don’t know.  We hang out when we can I guess.”

She glanced down at her phone.  A notification bell went off.

She quickly skimmed through the article before smiling, “Trevor Smythe got player of the league, again.”

He was a forward for Grant High.  A senior who’d already been pegged to go play for some big school in the south.  Everyone in the town knew of him.  He was really good.

“Oh my gosh, he’s so beautiful.” She rolled her eyes, smiling as this glossy look overtook her eyes, “Uh, I’m so jealous.  My cousin’s girlfriend’s sister is dating him.  Apparently he’s at the girlfriend’s house all the time.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that.

Then suddenly she shoved the phone in my face.

“Like seriously, tell me he’s not one of the most gorgeous human beings in Shadyside.”

I froze.

I mean, I couldn’t think of anything with this girl staring at me and a phone wedged in my face.  I wouldn’t even look at the picture or consider her question.

Like, genuinely, yeah I’d been made aware of his general attractiveness probably earlier in the season when Coach took us to a Grant game.

But I felt so put on the spot, and I didn’t know what answer she wanted out of me.

“I mean, I don’t know.”

“C’mon,” she smirked at me, “Are you telling me you don’t think he’s gorgeous?  He’s like objectively attractive.”

“I don’t...really pay attention to stuff like that.”

“Of course,” she snickered, pushing at my arm before backing away, “you only have eyes for Cyrus.”

I was probably overreacting, but how the hell else was I supposed to react to something like that? 

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

She shook her head, trying to sound monotone, “Nothing.”

“Cyrus is my friend, Kira.  Don’t make things weird.”

She shrugged, skipping away from me by a few steps, “Whatever you say.”

“Kira,” I warned.

“Okay, sorry,” she chuckled, “I joke.  Just trying to make jokes.  Can't a girl joke?”

I tried my best not to glare at her, but I’m fairly certain it happened anyways.

“You always make the weirdest jokes though,” I coughed, uncomfortable, “Like you have no filter.”

She shrugged at me, looking mildly offended, “I don’t see what’s wrong with that.  If people don’t like what I have to say, that’s their problem.”

Cy: Interested in a free shirt?

The text was followed by a picture of a dark blue button down.

Kira had met me at my house—because apparently she lived about 3 streets down—and together we biked down to the park.

She didn't even mention wanting to play basketball.  She legitimately just wanted to hang out.

You know, I should just be thankful that I had a Monday off.  I guess the school district was instituting Furlough Days or something—that's what my mom explained to me—but all I knew was that I got a random Monday off for no reason.

I spent the first half of the day watching TV, but by noon I was bored.

So when Kira texted me, I was more than eager to get out of the house.

Especially since she mentioned something about feeding ducks.  I loved feeding the ducks.

I quickly responded to Cyrus.  I say quickly because lately she'd gotten sort of nosy about who I was texting, plus if she knew that I was texting Cyrus she might make one her "jokes" again.

Me: 👍

Cy: You should come by the sale.  It's amazing.

Oh yeah, Cyrus had mentioned something about a "free clothes sale" yesterday over text.  He didn't give me much detail other than that, but he sounded very excited about it.  All I knew was that apparently I was getting a free shirt out of it.

Kira was looking over my shoulder again.

Me: I'm at the park

I meant to complete the text with, "I'm at the park, I'll stop by later" but with Kira looking over my shoulder, I didn't get the chance to finish the text.

It was fine, he'd get it, probably.  I'd stop by later anyways.

I mean, any excuse to hang out when he was the one offering.

Maybe he really was forgiving me?

"Who are you texting?" Kira finally offered, with words, beginning to get out of my personal space a little bit.

I didn't really blame her, I'd been glued to my phone for like a solid three minutes just waiting for him to reply after the initial message.

"Uh, nobody," I stuffed my phone in my pocket.  More self-conscious about it than I'd like to admit.  But she would tease me if I told her, "Sorry."

I attempted to change the subject as I glanced towards the park pond.  She mentioned the ducks earlier.  I pointed towards them, "Let's go feed the ducks!"

Kira had other plans, evidently.  She smirked as she pointed forward, "Let's do that first."

She was pointing towards the swings.

No.

Anything but the swings.  I was feeling desperate, "I thought you wanted to feed the ducks?"

She smirked at me, sort of leaning back to press her back against my chest.  I could feel myself blushing, but out of discomfort, "I'm allowed to change my mind."

Oh, I so didn't like where this was going.  And I had no way I was going to be able to talk her out of the swings.  She was determined now.

"C'mon, it'll be fun."

She was trying to be fun.  And maybe it would be.  But the swings were me and Cyrus' thing.  I...I'd betray him somehow if I swung with somebody else.

I tried to talk myself out of it, "Um, I'm not five."

"It's been so long, you forget how much fun it is to swing," she smiled at me as she began to swing on the swings.

She did look like she was having fun.  And maybe, she was right.  But I didn't forget how much fun it was to swing.  Swinging was where I talked to Cyrus for the first time.  Swinging was where he forgave me and we basically became best friends after that.  It was our thing.  Our place where we could be ourselves.  Where I felt safe.

It felt almost like I was bringing someone into that special space by swinging with her.

But I was definitely putting too much symbolism into some stupid park activity, right?  It was just a swing.  And Kira couldn't possibly know.

"It's like flying.  I wonder if you could get this high."

I scoffed at her.  She was taunting me, and it was working.  We both knew I was weak to a challenge.  I still couldn't look at her though, and I still felt guilty about it, but less so, "I'd be way higher."

"Guess we'll never know," she smirked at me.

I  glanced around self-consciously, like Cyrus would somehow spot me, or appear from out of nowhere.  There'd be no way he would though.  He was at that sale thing.  He was supposed to be at it all afternoon, that what he said yesterday.

With one last glance, and me ensuring that he wouldn't possibly see me, I swallowed and slinked into the seat of the swing.

I loved swinging.  Ever since I started swinging with Cyrus, I genuinely found an appreciation for it.  It was like this 5 minute way to immediately feel better about whatever I was dealing with.  Most times I came here with Cyrus, but sometimes if I was having a rough day, I'd come here alone.

Plus, I loved jumping off the swing.

"That's not fair, your legs are so much longer than mine!" She yelped.

I chuckled at that.  Because that definitely wasn't my problem.  It was hers for daring me.

"Ha ha, told ya!" I teased.

"Give me a minute!" She retorted, giggling.

"Just admit defeat!"

"Never!"

She refused to give up.  "I bet I could jump further."

Why was she doing this to herself?

"Oh, well you're about to be wrong again."

"Three," she started.

It was on.  I was going to beat her.  In unison, we both counted, "Two."

"One, go!"

"Whoo!" I screamed as we both jumped off our swings.  I launched myself as far as I could as I jumped.

She screamed.

"Did you see that!" I exclaimed, "That was like..."

"Fun!" She interrupted.

"Like you were like above your head on that one!"

"Okay, that's a lie." She crossed her arms at me, "Because you definitely saw the back of my head."

"That's not a lie."

"Like your shoulder was down to here on me."

"Surprised you can see anything with your height." I teased.

"Surprised you can see anything with that big head of yours." She retorted.

We laughed.  She leaned into my chest, chuckling, sort of half hugging me.

I froze.

This felt very flirtacious didn't it?

Is this what I wanted?  Did I want her to flirt with me?  Did I want to flirt with her?

Ugh, why couldn't I just be simple and like people when I wanted to like them?  And not like them when I didn't want to?

Chapter Text

“Sooooo, who was that girl you were talking to?”

Billie was too nosy for her own good, I swear.  She loved making things where there weren’t things to make.

I’d taken a total of two steps inside the house before she was pestering me.

Heck, I hadn't even gotten my rain jacket off—it had started progressively raining harder and harder the longer I was outside—before my sister was annoying me.

I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she had been watching us like a creepy person from the dining room window.

I rolled my eyes at her as I approached the kitchen table, where my homework lay sprawled out for the past hour—because evidently that's what I was doing with my Friday night.

“She’s nobody, dude.”

“A nobody you were talking outside with for like 30 minutes?" She rose an eyebrow, "Why didn’t you invite her in?”

“Cause you’d be weird?” I scoffed, “Besides, her dad said she needed to come home.  It was raining.”

She shrugged at me, obviously not believing me, and trying to annoy me in that 'I give up but I don't really' way, “Okay.”

“For the record," I defended myself, "she was borrowing something.”

“Your heart?” My sister teased, proud of herself as she bit into a donut she magically pulled out of nowhere.

I glared at her, “Literally no.”

Without skipping a beat, she pressed, “But she wants your heart?”

I froze at her words.

I mean, even just this hour, I was well aware of Kira being a little too friendly.

Like yeah, I appreciated the attention.  And yeah, maybe because I thought she liked me I was trying to maybe like her back.

‘Cause that made sense.  A basketball couple.  A boy and a girl.  We clearly got along.

But I always went back to Cyrus.  And not in the, I wanted to be with him instead way.  In the—if I could tell that she was flirting with me, that meant several things—way.  It meant I could tell when people were flirting, and therefore if Cyrus ever flirted I could tell, and he obviously hadn’t.  It also meant that flirting was just naturally an obvious thing—whether we could help it or not, it was always just obvious—and if I could tell she liked me, she could tell that I liked someone else.

I swallowed anxiously as I replied, “Yeah, I think so...actually.”

“And?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“Yeah bro, she was clearly flirting with you out there.”

I sighed, blushing.  I always got weird when people flirted, like I didn't know what to do with myself, “I know.”

She pressed, “And you don’t like her like that?”

I shrugged, whining, “I don’t know.”

She literally facepalmed, she was getting annoyed with me, “Stop with the flipping two word answers.”

I mean, why didn't I like her like that?  Why hadn't I developed some sort of feeling for her?  I had friends that fell in love with girls over less.

I mean, she was pretty, and we got along.  And that should have been enough But I just...didn’t really think of her in that way. 

I wanted to, and I think sometimes I just went along with her flirtatiousness or her touchiness because of that, but I guess I convinced myself I didn’t know her well enough to like her yet.  I was just one of those people that needed time.  And somehow one day I’d just wake up and be in love with her or something.  If I couldn’t like her, someone logistically a good match for me, what hope did I have with girls at all?

‘Cause the only other option in my head was admitting that I was gay, and I didn’t really think that was something I was 100% sure about.  I mean, yeah I was 100% sure about liking Cyrus, but that’s sort of all I was sure about.

Also, maybe my hesitation with her lied in the fact that sometimes she just said things.  She didn’t get under my skin in a way that I’d get mad at her, she just had a way of making comments that felt like she saw right through me.

And not in a fun way.  And not in a way that I let her in.

But clearly it was my own insecurities getting to me.  She was, like she said, full of jokes.  Her jokes just happened to be accurate sometimes.

I didn’t always love her jokes, especially the ones where she said not nice things about other people, but she always claimed to ‘call them like she sees them’ so I guess, in her way she was saying what she thought everyone was thinking.

And I was just more optimistic than she was.

Either that or she knew about me.  And I mean, deep down did I think she knew I wasn’t entirely straight?  I mean, yeah.  Her questions sometimes made me think she suspected something.  But I didn’t really blame her.  I blamed myself for making it obvious.  And if anything she was probably only trying to figure out where I stood because she was trying to figure out if she even had a chance.  Like, the more I thought about it, she definitely probably liked me and was just trying to figure out if I was capable of liking her back. 

But did it matter?  Cyrus wasn’t gay—or bi as far as I knew.  And if I couldn’t even handle her “jokes” then I clearly wasn’t ready at all to talk about it with another human soul, let alone outright admit to Cyrus himself that I liked him.

After what felt like several minutes, and my sister evidently letting me zone out, she finally interrupted my thoughts, “Annnnyyyyways, stay out of the living room, Sarah’s coming over.”

I cringed at that, “But...I was trying to see if Cy could come over.”

“Well try to un-invite him.”

Truthfully I hadn’t even invited him yet.  I’d just heard from my mom that Cyrus had stopped by the house earlier this week when I wasn’t home, so I hoped that meant he was trying to hang out.  And maybe it meant he was finally starting to forgive me?

We’d thus far been texting all afternoon.  Encouraging.  This was one of the first times since Costume Day that I felt like things were actually back to normal.

He kept talking about trash though?  Maybe that was the theme of the week.  He sent me a picture of Andi’s “artwork” yesterday about an hour before rumors about it spread around school.

Not gonna’ lie, I felt kind of special that I knew about it before everyone else.  Still, I mean it was cool, but I don't know if I'd call it art.

In any case, we’d pretty much been texting on and off since he sent that picture.

Me: What are you doing tonight?

Cy: Helping my stepdad paint some of his civil war figurines.

Me: Exciting.

Cy: It actually is kind of fun.

Me: What about doing something even more exciting? :)

Cy: Like what?

Me: The annual Billie and TJ movie night.  Also, she can’t have her friend over if I have a friend over, it cancels it out.

Cy: Is that an actual rule with your parents?  Because I don’t think that logic works that way.

Me: Are you kidding?  I could have like 10 people over at my house as long as my mom thought she could “supervise”.

Cy: Well...maybe I can talk my dad into letting me hang out for a little bit.

Me: Or a sleepover? :)

Cy: Maybe...I have to be somewhere tomorrow.

“I win, Cyrus is coming over.” I stuck my tongue at her, a bit premature considering he hadn't actually confirmed yet, “Sarah can’t come over.”

She crossed her arms at me, rolling her eyes, “Well Sarah and I get the TV, so you and Cyrus can watch whatever the heck we’re watching.  I’m older.  I get seniority.”

I rolled my eyes at her.  Normally I’d argue with her over it, but I just didn’t care enough.  Not when I was legitimately excited that Cyrus and I were finally hanging out after like 3 weeks.

Within the hour both Sarah and Cyrus were over.  My sister had decided on Sweeney Todd, which honestly seemed like a neutral enough movie for all of us.

That being said, Cyrus looked mildly horrified that there was so much death and murder in the movie.  He clearly loved the musical numbers though.  I could hear him singing "Johanna" under his breath for like 10 minutes now.

Sarah and Billie were barely even paying attention to the movie by the time it was half way over.  They were both on their phones.  Sarah was lounging on the love seat.  Billie was sprawled out on the floor in front of her.

And Cyrus and I were sharing a very large blanket, both of us absolutely spread out on the main couch.

“I missed this,” I mentioned casually, to my own surprise.  It was so natural—concerningly so—how quickly I fell into just being comfortable around him.  It felt like it was just us for a second.  I poked at his thigh with my feet.

He jumped away from me, looking horrified, “That’s a no, on the feet.”

Giggling, I gently kicked at him again.  This time he glared at me as he moved away from me.

He didn’t say anything for several seconds before he whispered, sounding nervous, “I was starting to feel replaced by Kira.”

I immediately sat up, completely ignoring the movie at this point but trying to whisper so that my sister wouldn’t yell at me.

“Never, dude.” I swallowed, moving closer to him so that I could continue whispering, “Maybe I just need to figure out how to balance hanging out with people better.  Kira she sort of…always wants to hang out.  She...doesn’t have a ton of friends, I guess.”

“You know,” he reasoned, looking sort of proud of himself, “you don’t have to say yes every time she asks to hang out.”

“I don’t have to say yes every time you ask to hang out,” I teased, pulling my knees into my chest.

He rolled his eyes, turning towards me, “Please, you’re the one who’s usually coordinating our hangouts, ‘cause of your ‘busy’ schedule.”

“Watch it,” I pretended to warn, “Or I may just ‘forget’ who you are in high school.”

It was then that I noticed how close we were sitting.  His face was probably like a foot and a half from mine.  My feet were pressed against his legs.  He was warm.  His leg was shaking, but it felt like he was trying to stop it. It was sort of erratic.  Like he’d remember to stop, but then immediately keep doing it.

“Why are you assuming your gonna’ be the cool one in high school?” Cyrus interrupted my thoughts, “Why wouldn’t I be the cool one.  I’m the one who’s been to jail.”

That was new for me.

I forgot to whisper when I yelped, “You’ve been to jail?!”

Cyrus shrugged, suddenly aware that the room’s attention was on him, “Remember the...” he paused, getting quiet for a second, “about the shirt?”

“Yeah?” I paused, trying to remember, “What happened with that anyways, did you forget?”

He shook his head, not saying anything for a few seconds before he settled on a story, “So this super wasteful clothing company just threw away a bunch of perfectly good clothes, right?  So we decided to give it all away.  But I guess those clothes are their intellectual property and we didn’t have permission to just give them away.  Plus something about accidentally entering private property without their permission.  So yup, jail.  For like 20 minutes.  And community service.”

I looked at Billie, who was listening with rapt attention, “That sounds insane, yeah?”

Billie shrugged, looking genuinely proud, “Look at you Cyrus Goodman, the rebel.  Guess you’re the bad influence between the two of you.  Cyrus Badman.”

Cyrus blushed at that.

“Yup,” I smirked, elbowing him, “Such a bad influence.”

The moment passed quickly and suddenly my sister and her friend were back to paying attention the movie.  And their phones.

I didn’t move away from him.  I couldn’t.

“Cyrus?” I whispered.

“Yeah Teej?”  He glanced at me, his eyes wide.  He looked so innocent in that moment.

“I’m...sorry.  Really." I swallowed, somehow trying to apologize for everything ever.  I could feel the desperation in my tone, "Whatever you think is going on with Kira.  It’s not, okay?”

“It’s okay if it is, TJ." He smiled, "I’m happy for you.”

“But you don't have to be.  We’re friends.  Just friends.”

He nodded at that, but he started to look sort of sad, I could tell he was uncomfortable.  He shifted away from me a little bit.  My feet were no longer brushing against his thigh.

“I guess...I’m just sorry if you felt like...I replaced you these past couple weeks.” I swallowed, nervous, “And I don’t like how I handled Costume Day.  I was a jerk.  Big time.  Like always.”

He forced a smile, “It’s fine, TJ.”

“You always say that though, Cy." I whined, trying to keep my voice at a whisper, "And I always feel bad.  I always hurt your feelings.  I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.  I didn’t mean to.”

He glanced over at me, this determined sort of angry look in his eye, “Then don’t do things that make you feel bad.”

That hurt.  And somehow I knew he meant not to do things to make him feel bad, too.

“I want to be friends, in high school.” I reached over, searching for his arm from the top of the blanket.  I grabbed what I think was his bicep.  I knew I sounded desperate, “I don’t know, maybe I’ll sit at the table or something.  I don’t want to go to high school and we’re not friends anymore.”

Cyrus smiled at that, but his tone sounded like he didn’t believe me.  He took a long time to whisper, “Okay.”

“How...how are you doing Cyrus?" I recoiled, attempting to continue the conversation, "I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Cyrus shrugged, “Drama with Andi’s parents wedding.  They're not getting married anymore.  Andi's a mess.”  He swallowed, hesitating for a minute before continuing, “And um, I was talking with Buffy…”

That was never good.  Those words somehow usually meant I was in trouble.

My voice got soft, nervous, “Yeah?”

“She just…she mentioned that the most important thing I can do is to value my friendships, to be there without expectation of reciprocation, “  he cleared his throat, “I mean…I guess, I need to be there for people even when they aren’t always there for me.  Like I should value people for what they are, not what I want them to be to me.”

Is it bad that for a minute I thought he was going to say he liked me?  Like that expectation of reciprocation.  I wish.  But that definitely wasn’t what he meant, and now I felt horrible.  I had hurt him.

“I wish I could give you an excuse for why I bailed,” I blushed, “But I can’t.  But…I promise I’d…I’d never do something like that again.”

“You can’t promise that." He was stern with me.  He was definitely upset and trying to hide it, "You bailed for a reason, whether you know it or not.”

That was true.  But I couldn’t possibly tell him.  He’d get angry for one reason or another.

“I’m gonna’ be honest,” Cyrus sighed, nodding, “You did.  You hurt my feelings. And you won’t even tell me why you handled it the way you did.  It wasn't like you.  But you want to know why I forgive you?”

I didn’t feel great about this.  I nodded anyways.

“You did the same thing that Jonah did to me.  It was last year, and we both bought these matching jackets at a sports game and we were supposed to wear them together the next Monday at school.  He bailed on me too…he didn’t want to ‘look like a couple of dorks’." He sounded bitter at it for a moment before his voice got genuinely sad, "He thought matching with me wasn’t cool too, I guess.  It hurt a little, but I was insecure and sort of clueless then.  That's how guys are I guess.  And if I never got over that, we wouldn’t be the really good friends we are now.  And I don’t want to give up on our friendship, because you’re important to me, TJ.  So I’m going to pretend it didn’t happen.  You should too." He looked me sternly in the eye, "I don’t want talk about it anymore.”

What killed me was the lifelessness in his voice.  And it wasn’t what I did to him that hurt him, it was that I wasn’t the only one.

And what killed me is Jonah did it probably for similar reasons I did.  He didn’t want to look gay.

I was angry with myself all over again.  I hurt Cyrus.  Jonah and I, we jaded Cyrus.  And he forgave us not because he wanted to, but because he had to.

And this was why Buffy said Cyrus had issues making guy friends.  He was always afraid we were going to leave him for other people—for girls, because we kept proving to him that we would.

One way or another, I needed to make up for it.  Because Cyrus didn’t deserve to feel like he was something to be ashamed of.  That he had to settle for being second choice.

Without even really thinking, I pulled my hand under the blanket and reached around desperately for his hand.

It took me a few seconds to find it, but when I did he looked down at my hand and back to me.

He suddenly looked nervous.

That was good right?  He wasn’t pulling away?  Was there a chance that I was making him nervous in a good way?  Was there a chance that maybe what I did hurt more because he wanted to look like a couple?

“Cy, I’m not afraid to be your friend.  You're not...you deserve...I don't deserve to be your friend, because you're...amazing," I swallowed, blushing at my own honesty, "I…it's just...I'm as insecure as you are, like probably more.  Obviously, I let other people get in my head, a lot.  And if I hurt you, it wasn’t on purpose, it was me being afraid…”

He swallowed, his hand stiffening under mine, “Afraid of what?”

Oh shoot, what did I do?  Rewind.  Unhear.  How do dig myself out of this one?

“I just…" I blushed, trying to recover.  I scrambled to say something anything, "just you need to know that you’re…really important to me.  And no one could ever replace you, okay?  Even if I don't always act like it." I forced a smile, "I feel really bad when you feel bad, especially when it’s my fault.  Just…how do I make it so I don’t do things that hurt you anymore?”

“You don’t hurt me,” Cyrus smiled, staring down at my hand that was still on his.  His eyes were fixed on it, but he didn't move his hand away.   My face burned at the thought.  I was holding his hand and he was letting me.  But just as quickly Cyrus words tore me from my thoughts, “You just…make me sad sometimes with your choices.”

“I…" started, nervous, angry at myself for being the absolute worst human being, "I don’t know how to make the right ones…”

“No,” he pulled his hand away from mine to cross his arms at his chest.  He had this scary but awe-inspiring way of being the only person who could call me out without making me insecure about it.  Still, I brought my hand back to my knee, self-consciously, feeling suddenly very lonely.  His voice was determined and firm, yet so soft and quiet, “You’re afraid to make the right ones.”

I blushed, “That’s because the right choices are scary, and it almost always means that I get hurt.”

Nowadays, it felt like the wrong choices hurt me too.

Cyrus smiled at me.  And for some reason, I knew that things would be okay.  That Cyrus really meant it when he'd forgiven me and he wanted to move on.  Somehow I knew that we'd be okay. “But here’s the thing.  You have me now.  So even if it’s scary to make the right choices, at least you have back up people willing to catch you.  You can’t push me away, Kippen." I blushed at that, a smile on my face I couldn't possibly hide, "I’m going to have your back, whether or not you deserve it.”

“I don’t, though.”

Cyrus chuckled at me, patting on my knee with his hand for a moment, “Well you still have it.”

I nodded at that, “I need to be better about having yours,” I leaned forward to start picking at the fabric of the blanket above his knee.  I couldn’t stop being touchy. “I need to be better.”

He smiled at me, “I think you’re pretty great already.”

I blushed, and my brain quit on me.  He complimented me in a completely platonic way, and apparently that was enough to make me malfunction entirely. “I…uh…you’re really…I like…being around you.”

Well that was forward.  Oh my god what was wrong with me?

And apparently my horror at myself was enough for me to remember that my sister and her best friend were totally still in the room.  I didn’t dare look in her direction, I was too afraid that she caught any of what I just said.

Cyrus, ever the oddly calm person he was when it came to awkwardness, took no notice.

I’d say he played it off, but I genuinely think he was being that oblivious, “Oh!  Speaking of hanging out!  The girl’s final game is Thursday, you should come!”

And just like that, I couldn’t help myself.  But dammit, I’d play it off as joking if she accused me of things, “Are you inviting me to go with you, Cy?”

Cyrus shrugged at that.  Smiling.

“That sounds like fun,” I smiled, “We can go all out.  Posters and stuff, I know you’re good with the posters.”

It was Sunday night, a whole 24 hours now since Cyrus and I hung out, and I was changing into my pajamas after a day of hanging out with my dad.  It mostly consisted of grocery shopping and shopping for parts for some computer he was trying to fix,and a short hike, but it was nice.  It was nice that he tried to go out of his way to catch up with me when he could on Sundays, especially considering how little I saw him during the week.

In a lot of way me and my dad weren't close.  We didn't talk about deep stuff much.  But still, the time we got together always made up for it.

Because he was trying.

Still, it felt weird.  We talked about a bunch of things, yet the only thing on my mind was wanting to ask for advice about my crush issue.

But it’s not like I was ready to come out.  I didn’t know how he’d respond.

I was halfway changed.  I was standing in my room with just my pajama pants on when my sister barged into my room without even a knock.

“Geez, Billie.  Privacy!” I yelped at her.

She rolled her eyes, “Then close your door, you goof.”

I quickly pulled on my long sleeve.

“I like Cyrus way more than Kira,” she offered, completely out of nowhere.

“Okay?  You haven’t even met her.”

She shrugged, “Yeah, but what you say about her.  I like him better.  Just saying.”

It's not like she ever liked my friends anyways.  So was I supposed to care?  I responded monotone, “Okay.”

She looked off-put at the idea, “You’re not like…dating her, are you?”

“No,” I sighed, considering what to say, “But…yeah, I think she wants to be more than friends.”

We had this conversation literally yesterday, but evidently we both wanted to repeat it.

“Do you?”

“I don’t think so.  I don’t really like her like that, I think.  Sometimes I think I could like her, she’s pretty and we get along…but then…” I paused, not sure what I was trying to say, “I just don’t.  It’s like…there’s something getting in the way, stopping me.”

“Common sense?”

I glared at her, “I hate you.”

Billie considered her next words before finally pressing me, “Cyrus doesn’t really like her, does he?”

“It’s complicated,” I sighed, “His best friend kicked her off the girl’s basketball team, so she’s still bitter about it.  So they’re not really fans of each other, I guess.  I think they’d get along if they actually sat down and hung out though.  I don’t think either of them ever will though.” I paused, “He’s not super happy with me that I hang out with her so much.”

“You think he’s jealous?”

“Jealous?”  In which way?

“I don’t know," Billie shrugged, "like he’s losing his friend to a girl?”

Well that too I guess.  I was hoping she meant the other way.  I frowned at her, "It's not like I like Kira though."

“He still might feel replaced though," Billie shrugged as she threw herself onto my bed, "especially if he thinks you like her.”

“But he knows I don’t,” I shook my head, “Or he’s supposed to.  I don’t think he believes me when I say I don’t like her.”

“Is that why he isn’t around as much.  ‘Cause your around her?  Does he feel awkward about it?”

“Yeah.  She sort of accidentally took up all my time.  He thinks I replaced him, but it's not like that."  I coughed, "I apologized to him last night.  Well...he forgave me at least.  It feels like we're okay now."

It felt nice talking about it.  Especially with Billie considering she was the only person I could talk about it with.  She was the closest thing I had to someone knowing everything.

"You looked like you were having a serious conversation yesterday," she offered, her tone offering nothing other than fact, "You guys are cool now?"

I smiled at that, "I think so."

She didn't say anything for several seconds, looking around my room like I'd changed it since the last time she barged into my room, "So...why did you bail on him?  And why are you spending so much time around a girl you don't even like?"

"She's my friend." I coughed, "I guess I'm just bad at balancing it...I don't want to be mean.  She doesn't really have friends, so I feel like I have to hang out with her."

"Well yeah, but she probably thought doing a Couple's Costume together meant something.  She probably thinks you two are talking now."

I blushed at that, "It wasn't a Couple's Costume.  We were just dressed up together...as friends."

"Seems to me like you bailed on Cyrus for the same reason, though.  A not Couple's Costume."

My face went red, "Huh?"

"Tell me you didn't bail on your best friend because you were afraid of looking like you were doing a Couple's Costume?"

"I never said that."

She rose an eyebrow at me, "Yes you did.  A week after it happened."

"No, I didn't." I mumbled, scrambling, "Why I bailed is complicated."

"Teej, for whatever reason you're insecure about looking gay," she shrugged, "if I had to guess, it's that people think he is."

I glared at her for that.  I mean, she was right, but that wasn't fair to him.

"That's stereotypes.  I mean, just because he's basically only friends with girls."

"But apparently enough to make you nervous," she accused, "look me in the eyes and tell me it's not about that."

I swallowed.  I couldn't bring myself to admit it.  I nodded.

"Is there something wrong with looking gay—I mean last I checked that doesn't make someone gay," she scoffed at me, genuinely annoyed now, "Or god forbid, being?"

I blushed. "No...no, of course not."

“Then why does it matter what people think or say?  You bailed on your best friend because you thought people would talk.”

“It just does,” I sighed, blushing.

“TJ,” Billie’s voice got soft, “It shouldn’t.”

I whined, “I know it shouldn’t.  I just…”

“Are you really that scared of people thinking you’re gay?  Just because you’re friends with a boy that might be?”

I cleared my throat, uncomfortable; I couldn't hide the disappointment in my voice, "He's not gay, Billie."

She rose an eyebrow at me.

"What?" I whined.

She shrugged, "I don't want to 'cause drama, like really.  But it was kind of obvious." she paused, "I don't think Kira was the only person flirting with you this weekend."

My face burned, "Don't say that, Billie.  He wasn't flirting with me.  He doesn't like me."

She pressed me, "Why, does that bother you?"

"No, no.  Of course not," I mumbled, so nervous now I don't know how I wasn't having a full on anxiety attack, "I...it's complicated."

"Complicated?"

"I don't care about that.  I don't care about what he is," I mean I did, but for the sake of my conversation with her, I didn't, "It's just...I hate it but I care about what people think.  Like maybe I wouldn't have cared like 6 months ago, but—"

"But?"

"After losing all my friends.  Having them hate me.  Having them making jokes even back then.  All they'd need was a hint and rumors would spread.  And I know I shouldn't care what people think, but I do.  I care a lot.  All I want is to just get through the next 2 and half months of middle school without feeling like I have a big gay target on my back."

“Middle school boys are stupid," she responded, obviously not caring about my insecurity, "That’s not how that works, you know that?  Just because you have a good friend of the same gender doesn’t mean people will think things…that literally doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s more,” I swallowed, “It's not really about Cyrus I guess.  I wouldn't have really thought about it before.  It's just...it's Kira."

She was confused now, "What about Kira?"

I sighed, "She got in my head.  Like, not on purpose.  She just...she put the whole situation in perspective.  And thinking about it, it's really really scary."

My sister looked legitimately frustrated with me, “Don’t dare call yourself an ally if the idea of even remotely being perceived as not straight scares you.”

It was at that point I let out a broken sigh.  I had to tell her the truth.  Or she'd keep getting mad at me.  Or somehow turn this into a bigger situation.

I let out a really long sigh before I breathed out the words, "I’m not an ally Billie,” I swallowed, “I’m not scared people will talk.  I'm scared because I haven't figured myself out.  And if people start talking they're going to try to figure me out before I even know who I am, and that's not fair.”

Very calmly, and with less pause than I expected, she immediately pressed, but in a kind way, “What do you think you are, TJ?”

I shrugged.  I just came out to her basically and she didn't even react.  She treated this like any other conversation.  I didn't know what to do.  Did she even get what I was saying?

Why wasn't she making a big deal out of this?

"I...feel horrible about the whole situation.  Like I really hurt Cyrus, you know?  And he's like the one really good thing in my life.  He's always believed in me, and made me feel like I was good enough, and that I could be myself around him.  But," I swallowed, shaking, "I can't be around him anymore.  Not in public.  I can't be seen with him.  And it's not even him really.  Like, if Kira—who barely knows me or him—could figure out everything going on in my head, I have to be really obvious about it, right?  And how did she do that?  I don't even know what's going on up there.  But I...I'm not ready to deal with it or talk about it or...or..."

"Has Kira said something to you, specifically?"

I shook my head, "No, but," I shrugged, "I think she knows.  She makes these jokes like she knows.  But she didn't say anything.  She's harmless."

"She's not harmless if she makes you feel uncomfortable about yourself, even with jokes," my sister stood up, starting to approach me, "So...let me get this straight," she stopped, chuckling to herself, "Sorry, sorry."

I glared at her.

"Let me get this not straight," she looked proud of herself, "Kira made it sound like it would be gay if you did a Costume with him, and you probably wouldn't have cared otherwise; but, because you like him, you thought people would figure out you liked him if you did the costume with him."  She rolled her eyes at that, "That logic doesn't exactly track...but...yeah I get how you...yeah."

I nodded at her, unable to say anything.  I felt so naked.  I can't believe my sister knew about my crush.  I can't believe she knew I liked a boy.  I can't believe she wasn't overreacting.

"So," she smirked, looking so proud, "You like Cyrus?"

I swallowed, "I can't tell him, he can't know," my throat started burning, I felt like I was about to cry for some reason, "I'm scared."

"Why, sweetie?"

"This feels like a big thing," I whined, "And everything is really intense and scary.  And what if people don't treat me the same if they find out?  Or what if Cyrus finds out?  And he doesn't treat me the same."

“Teej," my sister chuckled, "I think you underestimate your friendship with him.”

“Why?”

“Because Cyrus really seems like the type of person who would love you for you, even if he doesn’t feel the same way.  Which I think he does, even if he doesn't realize it himself yet.” She paused, “But I get it.  Things are different when you don't know the sexuality of the person you like."  She considered what she would say next, "Look, you don’t need to tell him you like him, you don't ever have to do that if you don't want to.  But what you should do, is come out to him—even if you don't know what you are.  Tell him what you told me, that you're figuring yourself out.  He's your best friend, and I think it's really hurting you that you can't talk to him about what you're feeling."

“I…I um…I don’t know what I am.  He…he’s like…my first real crush.”

“That’s why everything’s scary, babe.  I imagine it's hard not knowing for sure.  And, you know first crushes are scary, doesn’t matter the gender.  The thought of your crush finding out about you like them is like the most terrifying thing ever.”

I whimpered.  I hated that I felt so vulnerable, but I needed to let the thought out, “But this is extra scary.”

She smiled this soft smile at me as she brushed through my hair, “Well it shouldn’t be.  Or like…are you suddenly special because I know you’re a normal human being with normal human emotions like a crush?” She smirked, teasing me, “Oh wait, are you supposed to be special for liking boys or something?”

I swallowed, blushing, “Just…just one.”

“Well he’s a good one I think, I get why you like him,” she continued to smirk, “Um...yeah, I just need you to know that Sarah and I were eavesdropping on your like whole conversation last night.  I mean, sometimes like other times he slept over, I thought maybe you were acting flirty, but then you never really said anything about what gender or genders you liked, so I didn't really want to make something that wasn't there."  She cleared her throat, "And then Sarah noticed it too yesterday, so we were texting about it.  And we just watched because like...the whole thing was just really sweet.  You were so touchy and nervous and he was blushing...like now that I know about you, I definitely saw what I saw."  She smirked, "You're a little flirt aren't you?  And Cyrus must like you, because why else would he constantly forgive your idiotic self?  Like, I don't like how Kira made you feel, but yeah...maybe you have a right to be concerned." She cringed, "If I can see anything from watching you interact with someone you don't like versus someone you do," she chuckled, "Yeah, you kinda are super obvious, it's really cute.  But I definitely understand you being worried about it, you know, if your not ready to be out."

I blushed.  I couldn't speak.  She wasn't making me feel any better.

"O-M-G, my brother has a crush on somebody.  Blackmail, yay!" She chuckled, "Also, like, if you're into boys I don't know if sleepovers are like the most appropriate thing ever, but I'm not gonna' snitch on you to mom and dad.  And in any case, I need to embarrass you in front of him first—"

My stomach twisted, "Do I...do mom and dad have to know?  Do I have to tell them?”

“Well…no.  I didn't have to tell them I was straight," she looked at me like it was obvious, "I mean, in theory you could just show up one day with a boyfriend and they’d figure it out.  Or like, drop hints…or like outright just come out to them.  You don’t have to do anything, but knowing mom she’d probably like a warning…you know, so she doesn’t say awkward things.  Because she would.”

“Do you think they’ll look at me different?”

“Probably not.  One of mom’s bridesmaids is married to a lady.  Not to mention mom’s been involved in music and theater for like ever, so…you know, very queer environments.  And dad?  Well like I’m pretty sure he’d be fine with it.  Like they probably won’t even care.  Because when does that man have an opinion on anything?”

“I’m…still not ready to tell anyone else though." I blushed, "You’re…the first person I’ve talked to…”

She hugged me.

“I’m happy for you, baby brother.  I’m happy that you found such a good person to be around.  Maybe it’s just friendship now, but you never know." She rose her eyebrows at me, "And plus, I’m happy you have a friend who I know will support you when do you eventually decide to live your life as 100% yourself…whoever that is.”

Chapter Text

The group of us had been playing pick up basketball during lunch.  We’d grabbed our lunch and eaten it quickly on the benches, of course, but we’d basically rushed to maximize playing time.

3/4 of us had a semi-final playoff game in a matter of days, and we were antsy about doing well.

To her credit, Kira was taking the whole thing pretty well.  Watching us talk about playoffs and basketball like we had.  She didn't even mention the girl's season ending this week—other than to make fun of them for not playing well.  If anything, she commented that she liked our energy because we were "finally playing at her level".

I mean, she was good, but sometimes the smack talk didn't always reflect her playing ability.  But honestly, I respected the energy anyways.  Sometimes that was just how it was.  You faked the confidence until your abilities matched it, 'cause sometimes that was the only way to achieve it.

In any case, I'd need some of that in High School.

Cyrus had said something yesterday—as I “casually” decided to walk him to his 5^th period, right after lunch—about how I didn’t have to define myself as “Basketball Captain” after next week.  And honestly, since then, that’s all I could think of.

I guess he was right, in a sense.  The girls weren’t going to playoffs—they weren’t eligible seeing as how they basically had a 0-15 record or something like that.  And our playoffs had started earlier this week.  We’d played on Monday, and won.  Now we were in Semi's, and if we won Semi's on Friday we’d go to Championships next Monday.

And after Monday, I basically had no ties to our basketball team.  It’d all be over.  I’d be a Grant recruit, preparing myself for the rigors of high school basketball.

And trust me; the stress of it was already so real.   I’d already had several conversations with the head coaches over the last couple months.  They mentioned I’d likely end up on JV as a Freshman, maybe even Varsity if I did well enough with tryouts and summer ball.

The thought was exciting but terrifying.  A freshman on Varsity?

There I went again putting pressure on myself before things even happened.  No, I needed to get through the next week first.

As far as Jefferson was concerned, I was irrelevant after next Monday no matter what.

It was scary, but at the same time, kind of relieving.  Did I want to be a nobody?

Today's pick up game was sort of moot anyways.  It fell apart pretty quickly.

Lee, ever the responsible one, had ditched our game a full 5 minutes before the lunch bell even went off.  He kept muttering something about “never being late” as he basically sprinted across the soccer field, heading towards campus.

In his defense, I understood why.  The soccer field and basketball courts were a decent distance away from campus—and I was almost always late to class because of it—but still, leaving 5 minutes early was a bit…of an overreaction.

Like clockwork almost, the second the game ended Kira was trying to talk to me.  And Eddie, sensing something was “going on between us” mentioned that he should probably head out too.

Dammit.

Like I really didn’t mind hanging out with her.  In fact, I enjoyed spending time with her.  But I didn’t have ulterior motives.  So I did mind that others thought something was going on, and I definitely minded that people were trying to be “helpful” by leaving us alone together as much as they did.

It made me feel so cornered.  And pressured.  Like to perform I guess?

Thankfully, today I was smart enough to mention that I needed to use the restroom.  So with just under a minute before the lunch bell rang, she left for class too.

Not before hugging me though.

Truthfully, I wouldn’t mind her flirtiness and her touchiness and all that, if people didn’t think anything of it.  Or even, if I had time to process how I felt about it.  Honestly, I still didn't know.

I was slipping on my jacket and backpack, alone with my thoughts, when I spotted someone hobbling on the soccer field.

At first I thought it was Kira.  But I could see Kira in the distance well in front of this mystery person, and Kira was already almost at the school.

It was someone on crutches.  Curly black hair.

Buffy!  Cyrus mentioned she’d gotten hurt.  A stress fracture!

I felt so bad when I heard that I almost sent her a text, apologizing about it.  But then I figured having a reminder that she got hurt right before the last game of the season—from me of all people—would just make her mad.

She wasn’t going to make it to class at the rate she was going, though.

I figured I could walk with her at least.  Carry her backpack or something so she could walk a little bit faster.

I’d gotten about 20 feet closer, around the corner from the stands of the soccer field when I spotted Mr. Bag’s cart.

Unattended, no less.

I wouldn’t.

Right?

I mean old me definitely would.

Reed would.

When was the last time I did something fun like that?

Oh my gosh, when did I get boring?  Is this what I meant by making good choices, just not having fun?

No, there had to be an in between.

Yeah, no, I decided then. 

Hell yeah, I was swiping the cart.  I was getting boring.  I needed this.

Plus, you know, it was for a good reason.

I nearly sprinted to the cart, thanking every god above that the keys were still in it.

Without even thinking about it, I was quickly driving towards her.

I’d gotten within 10 feet of her when the first bell rang.  Lunch was over.

I could hear her groan from in front of me, “Great.”

Ever suave, I pulled up next to her, smirking, “Hey speedy.”

“What are you doing,” she chuckled, looking at me like I was insane, but clearly finding humor in it, “you wierdo?”

Was the answer not obvious? 

“Giving you a ride to class.”

She didn’t say anything to that.  I decided now was as good as time as ever to actually apologize, “I heard about your foot,” I glanced down to the boot, “That’s rough.”

She shrugged, “It’s fine.”

That wasn’t true.  I’m not saying I knew Buffy well, but I knew that wasn’t true.  She was just like me.  I’d be angry, frustrated, devastated. 

Knowing I could call her out on her lie, because I knew her at least well enough to call her a friend at this point, I commented dryly, “Tell your face.”

She immediately sighed at that, her whole body sort of sinking.  I knew it.

“Fine,” she groaned, “It’s not okay.  It’s the worst.  The Spikes have one more game this season and I can’t play.  I can barely walk, I just got passed by a caterpillar.”

I remember that one week I had a concussion and my mom wouldn’t even let me go to school let alone practice, I hated every second of it.  I hated that I couldn’t play.  I hated that my brain didn’t work like I wanted it to.

Thankfully it went away, like Buffy’s injury would, but I absolutely understood feeling limited at the worst time ever.

Therefore, I had little hesitation, a peace offering for what felt like the billionth time since I met her, “So hop in, already.  Second bell is about to ring.”

She chuckled at me, but I could see her at least lean towards the cart now, “Do I wanna’ ask where you got this?”

“Nope.”

She rolled her eyes at me as she set her backpack and crutches down in the back, trying to situate herself in the front.

Ever a paragon of safety I smiled at her, “Fasten your seat belt.”  She glanced at me warily, and I barely gave her a chance to reconsider before I chuckled, “Leggo!”

It took her an entire five seconds before she was pestering me with questions, suspicious, “Why are you helping me?”

I shrugged, “Are we not friends?”

She considered her response for several seconds before groaning, “I don’t like that you’re the person I complain to about basketball stuff.”

I shrugged, “I don’t blame you.  You have a great group of friends, but you don’t really have like…basketball friends.  Unless you actually talk to your teammates?”

Her lips thinned, “I…I talk to all of them.”

I rose an accusatory eyebrow, “Off the court?”

She got small at that, “Fair.  I guess I should have worked on that part.”

“One of the biggest part of team dynamics is…well…dynamics.  Things just go better when you trust your teammates…like as people.”

“The boys seem to be doing just fine.  And last I heard it’s civil war over there.”

I groaned, “We’re great at pretending, I guess.”  I paused, "What are you doing on this side of campus anyways?"

"I was giving my Doctor's note to Mr. Bag.  Ugh, I hate that I can't do P.E. for at least a month."

And that would explain why I found his cart.  He was probably on guard duty and was walking to his office to put Buffy's note unattended.

It's fine, I was gonna' bring it back.

I shrugged at Buffy, trying to find some light in this situation, "Well, your upper body will be strong after this."

Other than glaring at me, she didn't say anything for the 10 or so seconds it took to get to campus.

“Where’s your class?” I offered, matter of factly, quickly jumping off the cart as I parked it.  I pulled her backpack onto my shoulder.

She stared at me with this profound sense of confusion, “What?”

What's not to get?  I glared at her impatiently, “Where’s your class?  You said you were going to be late right?”

“I…uh,” she stuttered, trying to get herself off the cart, “No…no, I’m fine.”

“Please, you can't take the stairs and the elevator takes like two minutes, and it involves like three hands to work on normal days.  Where’s your class? I’ll help.”

She was clearly still uncomfortable by the proposition, “Don’t you have class?”

I shrugged, “Just art.  I’m pretty much always late.  But he doesn’t care.  It’s not like he really teaches in that class anyways.  Open projects.”

She steeled herself, now standing and staring at her crutches that were still on the cart, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, and I’m helping you." I decided, walking away with her backpack, "Accept it or keep arguing with me and be late.”

She glared at me.  Aggressively grabbing her crutches in protest as we walked towards the glass doors leading into the school.  I held open the door for her.

She looked almost scared of me.

“Why are you being nice?”

“I can’t just be nice?”  I was offended, honestly.

“I mean…”

I shrugged, “Your my friend, Cyrus is my friend,” I paused, “I mean…Cyrus sort of is making it sound like he wants to invite me to more of like your guys’ hangouts…so I figure if I’m already friendly the whole thing will be less awkward.”

She smirked at that, “He told me you asked if you could sit with us during lunch in high school.”

I couldn’t help but blush, I avoided her eyes as I walked towards the elevator at the end of the hall, “Well…that…it wasn’t a joke, but like…it was.”

She continued to smirk, “I wouldn’t argue it.  You seem to have turned into a decent human being.”

“Thanks?”

She forced a smile, “I’m glad you fixed things with him." I didn't expect her to be as frank as she was, "He would have never said anything.”

It had been like two days.  He already told her?!  I swallowed, “He told you we talked…about…”

She nodded, “He tells me everything,” she chuckled, “Whether he realizes it or not.  Or wants to or not.”

Everything?  Like how I held his hand for like 5 whole seconds?  No…he wouldn’t say that to her….

I couldn’t help but blush.

“I don’t…I’m sorry I caused so much drama…all of that.  I…I’m a dummy.”

“Well yeah,” she chuckled, “but I get it.  Kira’s like this shiny new toy.  Looks cool at first but after 5 minutes…kind of loses it’s novelty.  Realize it’s still just a $5 toy.”

“That was an aggressive analogy,” I teased, pushing on the elevator button.  Thankfully, the door opened immediately and I held the door open for her as she hobbled through, “And a little harsh, probably.”

“I mean, I didn't like her attitude.  But...you can make your own decisions about her, I’m not going to stop you.  Maybe you see something in her I don't,” she paused, “Just be careful.”

Why did I feel so self-conscious suddenly?  I crossed my arms at my chest, “I’m a big boy, I can handle myself.”

Her response was immediate, “Hm.”

“What?”

She shrugged, “Dunno.  Just didn’t picture her being able to wrap her fingers around you.”

“She doesn’t." I scoffed, "We’re just friends.”

She smirked at that, “I didn’t say you were anything but.”

“We’re just friends Buffy.  I don’t know how many times I have to tell people." I whined, and on instinct I met her eyes in an odd sense of vulnerability Buffy always seemed to bring out of me, "Even Cyrus doesn’t believe me.”

She nodded at that, reaffirming what I said, but with no tone of accusation, just like...matter of factly, like she genuinely didn't know, “Cyrus knows your just friends?”

“Yeah…?” I paused, “Well I told him…like a billion times.  I don’t…she’s not…” what was I going to say, that I liked Cyrus to his best friend?  Still, I didn't know what to say, "She’s cool and all.  She’s just not really…" What, my type?  That would be admitting to her and to me that I was gay, and that was scary.  I quickly scrambled for something else to say, "I…am I not allowed to have friends anymore?!”

Buffy giggled at that, “Sensitive topic I see.”

“She gets me, she’s really cool,” I swallowed.  I could get over the part where Kira was trying to date me, because underneath she meant well and did understand me, “but…I don’t know, can you just convince Cyrus it’s not like that?”

Her accusation was pointed, and she stared at me as if the question was simple, “Why do you care what Cyrus thinks?”

I shrugged, “‘Cause he thinks I replaced him, I guess." I blushed, brushing my arm out of instinct, not really sure what to say.  I'd have to say something satisfactory though, or she'd press, "I…uh…it’s just…awkward I guess, that people keep saying that.”

She chuckled at that, “I will tell Cyrus that.” She paused, proud of herself, repeating each individual word with a smirk and far too slowly, “TJ Kippen, is in fact, single.”

I blushed.  Uncomfortable and frustrated I threw my hands at my face, gripping at what I could with my fingers and shaking at my head, “I…that’s not…you know what I mean.”

Thankfully the gods took pity on my embarrassment, because the elevator doors parted like the red sea.

She stole her backpack back from me before I could protest and had already started walking forward.  She smiled at me, looking mischievous for a moment, before she nodded at me seriously, “I know what you mean, TJ.”

Well, crap she knew.  She definitely knew.  Like 60% chance.

Of all the people though,  maybe it was a good thing if she knew?

The downfall of my mischief came swift. Of course it did.  I actively returned the cart to where I found it.  Mr. Bag caught me red handed.  He was standing there, waiting for me, in fact.

He was angry and red and sweaty; he didn’t even let me explain.  He sent me off to class, but I knew that wouldn’t be the end of it.

Before school even started the next day, our assistant principal spotted me, pulled me aside, and handed me a yellow slip.

I was due to go to something called ‘Student Court’ for what I’d done.

I was pouting about it in the stands of the soccer field.  School started in like 10 minutes, but because nobody was out here, it almost felt like I could be alone with my thoughts.

I don’t know why I tried to do that though.  Nowadays it felt like people just found me no matter how hard I hid.

Maybe that’s why I wasn’t surprised when a voice interrupted me.

That being said, I was surprised that Cyrus somehow spotted me.

Granted I was pretty much always in this area during my downtime, but still; it’s not like I told him about this spot.

“As the man said to the horse.” Cyrus joked as he approached me, “Why the long face?”

Yeah, definitely not in the mood.

I groaned.  I’m surprised he hadn’t already figured I was in trouble.  He seemed to know things like this before most people, “I got a summons to appear in student court tomorrow.”

“Student court.” Cyrus sounded offended at this idea, his mind immediately went somewhere else, evidently not even caring that I was in trouble, “Why wasn’t I asked to be on it?”

I glared at him.

“Sorry," he backtracked, "back to your thing.”

“It’s a group of students who figure out your punishment if you do something wrong.” I explained,“Mr Bag is making me go.”

“Because you took his golf cart?”

So Buffy definitely told him.

“It’s a long walk to the PE field,” I scoffed, angry that he still wrote me up even after I owned up to taking his golf cart, “and I guess he really depends on those cupholders.”

“But…you just did it to help Buffy.” Cyrus brows furrowed; because evidently the situation was not in fact that simple, “You were being a nice guy.”

I appreciated the sentiment, but it didn’t help.

“Yeah, a nice guy who might now get suspended or even kicked off the basketball team.”  Typical, it would happen smack dab in the middle of playoffs.

I mean, I expected like a detention or something, but not full on punishment.

“It’s that serious?”

I shrugged.  I didn’t know.  Student Court sounded serious.

Cyrus suddenly got this determined look in his eye.  One that meant I definitely wasn’t going to be able to stop whatever the heck he was planning, “Then I’m gonna’ be your lawyer.”

Oh no.  I definitely needed to stop this.

“Well, it’s not that type of court.” I attempted to dissuade him, aware that it was fruitless, “People don’t have lawyers.”

He looked more determined now, somehow, “You do now.”

I guess this is what he meant the other day when he said he had my back.  Still, there’s no way having a ‘lawyer’ was going to help my case.  I pleaded, “But you’re not gonna’ be a—”

“Listen, I’d love to keep arguing about this,” he began to stand, already walking away, “but I gotta’ pick out a suit.”

I guess I should have counted my blessings that I had a 30 minute window before practice.  It gave me just enough time to sit through this court and sweat over the idea that any minute now I’d be banned from ever playing basketball again at Jefferson.

I sat uncomfortably straight in my seat, trying not to look to nervous as a small group of my classmates—all clad in those serious looking choir robes—just stared at me.

Gus even had a gavel.  Which he seemed pleased to use.  Promptly at 3:05, only 5 minutes after the after-school bell had rung, and only a minute after I’d sat down, he slammed the gavel.

“The court will come to order.”

Cyrus wasn’t here.  Maybe he’d forgotten.  Maybe he was busy.  Maybe he—

The sound bellowed down the auditorium, “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!”

Oh my gosh, he was not sprinting in here with what looked like tons of boxes of…things.

Almost upset, but mostly confused and embarrassed; I loudly whispered to him as he approached me, “What is all that?”

“Evidence.” He looked proud of himself, before leaning forward to whisper to me specifically, “Actually, old phone books.  It’s an intimidation tactic I learned on TV.” He looked me firmly in the eyes now, I almost lost track of my thoughts.  I mean of course I did, I could apparently not turn off the gay even in inopportune moments, “I’m not letting you get kicked off the basketball team without a fight.”

Somehow that wasn’t encouraging.  I'm not saying I didn't have faith in Cyrus, because he'd find a way; I'm saying I didn't have faith in this whole thing not already being rigged against me.

“We’re all here.  Let’s begin.” Gus banged his gavel again, trying to sound very serious, “The court is in session.”

“Lead council for the defense, Cyrus Goodman,” Cyrus pressed his suit to his torso, trying to look tall as he continued to stand, “Your Honor.”

“You’ve retained counsel, Mr. Kippen?  This is highly unusual.  One moment,” he whispered with his fellow judges, they both sort of nodded in that way that meant they were just as curious as to where he was going with this as I was, “Well allow it.”

I mean, I guess?

“TJ, a complaint has been filed against you for…” he furrowed his brow as he read the charges, “Grand Theft Golf Cart.”

Cyrus coughed, “Hearsay!”

Gus glared at him, evidently not as humored as the other two by his dramatics, “Why don’t you just tell us what happened?”

“Well,” I started, figuring telling the truth was probably my best bet.  I mean yeah I did something ‘wrong’ but for the right reasons, “I saw Buffy Driscoll limping across the athletic field and I wanted to help her.”

Cyrus interjected, “A testament to his character.”

“So then I saw Mr. Bag’s golf cart—”

Cyrus interrupted again, “Unclearly marked—”

“And, you know, figured he wouldn’t miss it for like…” I paused, considering how long I ended up being gone, “ten minutes.”

“Only seven and a half, according to key witnesses.”  He pressed, as he put a hand against my chest to stop me from speaking.

Unfortunately, instead I just froze, ‘cause…you know…he was touching my chest.  Could he feel my heart beating really fast suddenly?

Thankfully, I swallowed my panic and forced my attention on the judges, continuing my story, “So I borrowed it to get Buffy to class on time.”

“In accordance with the schools overly-strict attendance policy.” He softened as he leaned forward towards the judges, “which I think we can all agree, is a crime in and of itself.”

It's not like I had more to say myself, but I didn't expect Gus to interrupt us.  Gus was quick, “I think we have everything we need.  We’ll go think about this and we’ll get back—”

“Ahem, hold on." Cyrus interjected, determined as ever, "I’d like to call a witness.”

Gus rolled his eyes, groaning.  Evidently done with Cyrus’ antics, “Mr. Goodman, you’re showboating.”

“Thank you for noticing, Your Honor.” Cyrus beamed, before walking over to the stand, “I call to the stand…myself.”

Oh no.

I couldn’t help but let it slip, “Oh no.”

Cyrus stood over the podium, attempting to look intimidating, though he was facing no one but the stand, “Mr. Goodman, where were you at the time of the alleged incident?”

“Well, I wasn’t there,” he responded, but not before putting himself on the witness stand, trying to sound innocent, “But I know that TJ only did it to be a good friend.”

“So you’re a witness,” Lawyer-Cyrus offered, turning to stand again, “but you didn’t see the crime in question?”

I put my head to my forehead and nose, trying to hide my face like not watching it would stop this horror.  This was absolutely embarrassing.

Embarrassing in a way that I was definitely going to think was funny later, and definitely tell Billie about, but right now, it was like watching a train wreck.

“Can we speed this up?” Gus groaned impatiently.

I groaned, “I don’t think so.” Glancing to them with this look of genuine apology before trying to shrink myself again.

Thankfully it only went on for like 5 seconds more before Gus had definitely had enough and called for the end of the trial.  All he said was that I’d hear something tomorrow about my sentencing.

I'd be holding my breath until then.

Chapter Text

Apparently the Student Court wasn’t an exact science.  Since I had practice that day, and since one of the Court members had a club meeting that she had to attend—and the Drama Club was using the auditorium of the afternoon—all I got was a text from Gus, right around lunchtime, that he didn’t know when Student Court would be able to meet, but it would definitely be sometime before 5.

Well now it was 3:45, basketball practice had just finished, and I was counting down the moments until I’d be summoned back.

Knowing that I didn’t know when my sentencing would happen was frustrating, but at least while I was watching Buffy’s game, I could pretend it didn’t exist at all.

The moment I walked up to them, the group of us headed for Jackson Middle School.

I mean, I know Cyrus said I was invited to walk and sit with his friends, but seeing them actually wait for me—and then them not looked annoyed when I finally caught up, was actually shocking.  Andi even forced a smile, glancing between Jonah and I to say that her dad said he was willing to drive everyone home after the game.

I doubted that I'd be able to accept the offer considering I needed to be back at Jefferson pretty much in the next hour, but I genuinely appreciated the offer.

She even almost sort of looked at me like she didn’t hate me.  Maybe I was growing on her?

It was weird, walking with Andi, Jonah, and Cyrus.  But it was kind of nice.  Maybe I could see myself being friends with them like Cyrus was.

And maybe they would let me.

I mean, Jonah had been the nicest.  Pretty much since the moment we made up after the jersey debacle, he made actual effort to say hi to me in the halls.  Occasionally he even stopped to chat.  It was weird, definitely, but I guess Cyrus really did mean it when he said Jonah was one of the nicest people he knew.

As proven by the fact that we were walking now, and Jonah almost immediately started to ask me about my day.  And when topic steered to other things, it looked like he was going out of his way to keep me involved in the conversation because according to him, "Cyrus and Andi had a habit of suddenly talking just between the two of them, even when other people were around".

Still, half way into our walk he ended up turning to Andi to talk about something.  He looked pretty concerned.  I kept hearing him say the name Amber.  That was the girl that Buffy mentioned was a part of their friend group, right?  He kept saying the word breakup too. 

Wait wasn’t she already his ex?  Did they get back together and break up again?

Truthfully, Andi looked sort of done with his complaining, but I had to applaud her patience in trying to convince him that things would work out.

And now I got it why Cyrus called her the "tough love mom" of their group.  That was exactly what she was doing.

Also, Andi and Buffy could both be equally sort of inimidating, I realized.  No wonder Cyrus was the way he was, the girls just overpowered him.

Also, wait?  Weren't Andi and Jonah a thing like last school year?  I mean, obviously they'd broken up; Cyrus had mentioned that.

So Jonah was friends with mutliple exes?  And he was asking his ex for advice on another ex?

Yeeaaah, maybe I didn’t want to be straight.  Jonah’s life sounded messy and stressful.  No wonder he got panic attacks.

Cyrus was trying to mind his own business, sort of listening to their conversation but looking slightly uncomfortable about it.

Without even really thinking, I elbowed him.

He glanced up at me.

I smiled at him.

And then he smiled.  And my heart started racing.

And then his eyes got big, he suddenly realized something.  He attempted to reach into his backpack while he was walking—it looked like he was doing gymnastics, but not in the good way.  He looked almost too eager as he pulled several pom poms out of his bag.

“What’cha doing?” I chuckled.

He dropped the pomp oms in my hand, no words.

“Um, no.”

“Um, yes.” He smiled, “It’s a part of being a fan…I know that’s like a new thing for you.”

“No…”

He looked determined, and almost threatening, “Do you want a sign on Monday?”

Okay, I definitely did, but also…pomp poms?  They were kind of...girly, though.

Still, one look in his pleading eyes and I was done.

I groaned at him, “Fine.”

I mean, there was absolutely no way anyone from the team would see me—this was an away game and a girl's game after all—so like, I could kind of just enjoy the game.  I wouldn’t really know anybody.  Nobody I knew would be there to judge me.

And maybe that was a good thing, like a trial run for my self-consciousness.  If I could handle hanging out with him in public here without overthinking it, maybe I could handle it at Jefferson again…or Grant.

I didn't really have the time to process the thought much, because we realized the game had just started by the time we got to Jackson's campus.  And only Jonah knew where the gym was, so we were sort of blindly following him as he jogged down a parking lot and several buildings.

The gym was surprisingly full—probably because the boys had just played right before.  Cyrus dragged me up some stairs and to an open spot.

Before I knew it, I realized there was definitely no room for Andi or Jonah where we were.  At best, they could sit in the row in front of us.  Which they did.

I mean, I didn’t mind sitting alone with just him.  But suddenly this game felt so much different.

Like I felt like a date.  A public outing. A just the two of us but surrounded by other people sort of thing.

And after taking a breath, I realized it felt okay.  Not scary.  And nobody was looking at us.  Maybe people really didn’t care?  Maybe I was in my head too much?

I don’t know if this would make up for everything with Costume Day and how much both me and Jonah had hurt him, but I really needed to prove to him that I was on his side.  That I wasn’t afraid to stand by his.

I wasn’t ashamed of him.  I wasn’t afraid to be seen around him.  And what happened that day?  I had to convince the both of us it was just a one time lapse of...confidence.

So I turned to him, smiled, and immediately started to cheer for the Spikes.

And I gotta say, the game—granted I’d only been to like two before this—was surprisingly entertaining.  It was fun to watch the girls play, it was cool seeing how much they’d improved since the beginning of the season.

And whether she liked it or not, I was already with comments for Buffy on how the plays went.  It was like I was a scout, analyzing every play like a coach would.  And I'd definitely talk with her about the game, and the way the girl's played.  The difference between now and like a year ago?  I could actually talk about this with her now.  I could talk about as friends.  And she wouldn't get angry or accuse me of being nit-picky.  She'd probably listen, maybe even complain to me.  Realistically, she'd probably enjoy talking about it with someone else who knew and loved the game as much as her.

It was cool having an outside basketball friend.  Not that I needed more.  But this was different. 

It started as that, but I knew deep down she’d be a real friend.  And I was proud of that.  Everything had changed so much since 7th grade.

The next thing I knew, the girls were down by only two in the final seconds.  Wow, how did this game end up so close? 

We held our breaths as a blonde girl went for a 2-pointer.  And like this beautiful majestic rainbow of a trajectory, it fell in the hoop with ease.  She’d made the basket!  There was only one second left in the game.

The buzzer rang.  And just like that, we were up. 

Wait, that meant they’d won?

They’d won!  Oh my gosh, they’d actually won a game.

Cyrus didn't even wait for me as he sprinted down the stands, though I was quick to follow him.  The second we reached the bottom step of the stairs though, I realized sprinting definitely wasn't the smartest choice because there was a very large crowd and we sort of just stormed past them while going down, but we were just that excited.

Thankfully, neither of us tripped.  With what felt like only seconds, we were by the side of the team.  This was so exciting for them.  What a way to end their season!

We pushed past her teammates, crowding Buffy with congratulations.

And then the most shocking words came out of my mouth, and I meant it.  What was wrong with me?   “What a good captain.”

Buffy beamed at all of us, not even taking note of my slip. “Thanks.  This is the best game I ever,” she paused, chuckling, “never played.”

My phone vibrated.  It was an automatic email from the administration, but the header was Student Court.

It had been a whole day, and it was now 5 o’ clock.   I guess they finally determined a verdict.

I stared at my phone as I read the email.  They wanted me in the Auditorium in 20 minutes.

Crap, I wasn’t even on Campus.  We were like a 15 minute walk from the school.

Cyrus started to charge forward, following his friends as they started to walk out of the gym, cheering.

Without even really thinking, I pulled on his arm, stopping him.

Suddenly Buffy’s game didn’t matter anymore.

“Hey,” I forced out, suddenly nervous about what the court was going to say. Cyrus must have sensed it because he completely stopped and glanced down at my phone, “The court reached a verdict.”

He didn't need to know anything else.  He jogged towards an exit, and I was quick to follow him; he seemed to know where he was going.

I don’t think it dawned on us that we didn’t have a plan to get to Jefferson until we were at the outside of the school in a parking lot, and it was when Cyrus stopped walking.

He stopped, staring at me, “We…we’re walking there…right?”

I shrugged, “Well neither of us has a car.  And I don't think Andi's dad would get here in time.” I chuckled, "Plus, we don't have a golf cart either.”

Cyrus glared at me.

“Sorry,” I chuckled, “It’s what, like a 10 minute walk to the school if we walk fast?”

He scanned my body with his eyes.  I was shocked at how overt he was.  Did he just check me out?

Instead he immediately yelped, “For you maybe, with your long legs!  You’re an athlete, that walk is nothing for you.”

I rolled my eyes at him, because if I’d noticed anything about him in the year and a half we’d been friends, it was that he suddenly went to this small thing I towered over—not that I minded—to somebody who was very quickly gaining on me in like every way.  We almost stood eye to eye, literally.

“You have long legs too, Cy,” I chuckled, “But seriously, let’s get walking.  I don’t’ want to be late and add to my sentence.”

Cyrus nodded, and he was on board with it for about 5 minutes of it, but then I started to lightly jog and he suddenly stopped.

He held his legs, out of breath.

“Go…go on without me!”

Dramatic.

I rolled my eyes at him, “There is no way in the world you are that out of shape.”

He pointed at me, still doubled over, “I think you underestimate how unathletic I am.”

I crossed my arms at him, “You are fundamentally not allowed to be my friend and be unathletic.”

Cyrus’ jaw dropped at me.  He looked scandalized. “You know I’m not good a sports!”

I shrugged, “You don’t have to be good at sports.  I’m just saying that starting over the summer, you and me are going on daily walks, jogs, and or runs.  You will be a functioning semi-athletic member of society when I’m done with you.”

“Oh, uh,” Cyrus panted, desperate to get out of it, “just remembered, parents are taking me to Spain!  Whole summer!”

“C’mon, we don’t have much time left,” I approached him, picking him up by the arm and effectively dragging him forward.  He audibly protested, but he was moving again at least, “Everyday your here in Shadyside over the summer then,” I paused, “But seriously, we’re jogging together.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d let you near me if your threatening exercise.”

My response was swift, “Bold of you to assume that you have a choice in this.”

“Like I’d want to go on daily walks with you anyways.”

And that’s when it hit both of us.  We both got sort of quiet.  I don’t know what was going through Cyrus’ head, but I just realized I’d essentially asked him out to daily dates over the summer.

When he didn't comment on it, with bravery I didn’t realize I’d possessed, I winked at him.  I wonder how far I could press him before he did say something, “Maybe one of those will even be on Shadyside Beach.”

“Bold of you to call that a Beach,” Cyrus retorted immediately, ever clueless, “It’s Lakeside, at best.”

Wow, I could probably literally tell him I was gay and had a crush on him and his response would be, “As a friend?” wouldn’t it?

It didn’t matter, ‘cause he didn’t get that I was flirting.

“I’m giving you an excuse to hang out before your vacation!” I whined, mildly annoyed with him now, “Don’t ruin this for me.”

“Well the beach maybe,” he retorted, “The walks, highly contestable.  You’re just trying to manipulate me into exercise by the promise of your company.”

I mean, not exactly, but if me being around was enough motivation for him to let me mold him into an athletic creation of my own making, I’d take it.

Plus, I could put this into the ‘Maybe Billie was right about Cyrus flirting with me’ pile in my head.  I’m not saying I looked for signs after she told me, but like…I guess I could interpret things in a much more ‘Maybe he did like me’ way. 

Or, you know, at the very least, it was at least easier to lie to myself about it now.

“In any case, I will contest you trying to get me to exercise, on the grounds of you trying to change me into something that I’m not.  I’m perfect the way I am!”

“You’re great.  But I’m concerned about your basic survival skills at this point,” I chuckled, “So you can either join me willingly or by force.”

Cyrus was tempted to say something in retort, but we suddenly got within feet of Jefferson's campus, and out of nowhere he was finally motivated to jog.

Oh now he runs.

We got all the way to the front doors, and through the main foyer before I started a full on sprint.

But then I realized Cyrus was not following me.  He was running in the opposite direction.

“Cyrus!  What are you doing?”

He turned for a second, “I need my suit!”

“No you don’t, Cyrus!”  We were going to be late.

He yelped back at me, this time actually sprinting away, “Let me have this!”

Thankfully it only took him two minutes total to run to his locker and back, but I was anxious about it the whole time.

With just his suit jacket on over his regular outfit, we sprinted towards the Auditorium.

The judges glared at us as we entered, we were about 3 minutes late.

They looked like they wanted to go home.  Which, I mean, fair.

As we sat, Gus was quick to bang the gavel, “Would the defendant please rise?”

We both stood.  Wow, this was quick.

Gus was not having it either, “Not you, Mr. Goodman.”

Without skipping a beat, Cyrus retorted, “I think you know me, by now, Your Honor.”

I wasn’t gonna’ stop him.  I didn’t have that power.

This was it.  This was the boy I liked.

Oh how I wished I had his commitment.  Or his brazenness.

He was lucky he was cute, because otherwise…well I don’t think I’d let anyone get away with what he’s pulled with this whole trial thing.

It was adorable yeah, but oh my god was it embarrassing.

There was a long pause before Gus continued, “We find the defendant, TJ Kippen…”

Guilty, it had to be.

Sure enough, “Guilty on all counts.”

I groaned.  Oh no.  This was bad.

Cyrus was apparently more upset than I was though, because he suddenly exclaimed, “The system is broken! We demand an appeal!”

“Dude,” I turned towards him.  It was over.  There was nothing I could do, “Stop fighting.”

He looked me firmly in the eyes, and I honestly believed him, because him defending me was obviously about so much more than a stupid cart, “I’ll never stop.”

I couldn't help but smile at that.  He really cared about me didn't he?

I kept talking to him, but mostly I think because I didn’t want him to stop looking in my eyes, “You did your best.”

Still, I glanced towards the Court to hear my verdict.  It was rough tearing myself away, but I did it.

But I knew what I had to do.  I promised Cy I’d make the right choices.  And sometimes the right choices meant facing responsibility. 

I sighed, “But this part I have to face by myself.”

“We hearby sentence you to the harshest punishment allowable by this court.” Gus affirmed, ignoring us.

Cyrus finally sat down at that, defeated.

I accepted it.  I had to.  I needed to be better.

I sighed, “I’m ready.”

Gus paused, trying to be dramatic too apparently, before he let out a, “Lunchtime detention on Monday.”

That’s it?

I couldn’t even hide my shock, “That’s it?”

Cyrus’ jaw actually dropped, “That’s the harshest punishment you’re allowed to give?”

“Guys, it’s just student court.” Gus finally relaxed, chuckling, “We don’t even have the authority to touch the thermostat in here.”

I was legitimately relieved.  Anything was better than getting kicked off the team one game right before Championships.

I turned towards Cyrus, relieved.  Somehow I felt even more relieved when I set an arm on his shoulder.  Like his positive energy immediately transferred to me.

He seemed to feel the same, because he did the same.

I smirked; bold because I knew Cyrus wouldn’t get that I was flirting again, “Will you visit me while on the inside?”

Cyrus looked so determined, but he played along, “I’ll bake you a cake with a hall pass in it.”

Gus was ready to be done with us, clearly, because he suddenly banged his gavel, “Court is adjourned.”

Oops, I totally just flirted with Cyrus.  In public.  In front of other people.

And honestly?  It didn’t feel horrible.  None of them looked bothered by it at all.

In fact, Gus was more bothered by getting out of there quickly, muttering something along the lines of, “We have to get these robes back to the choir.”

I barely cared, I was too busy, and too eager maybe, to pull Cyrus into my arms.

We hadn’t really hugged too often, and especially not in public, but I decided I needed to change that.

He sort of froze in my arms for a moment, processing that I was hugging him, before he let his hands rest on my back.

I held him there for a second.  And for a guilty second I even let my chin rest on his shoulder.

He seemed to feel the same too, because he seemed perfectly fine just like fitting himself into me.  I could feel his chin on my shoulder.

We sort of swayed, holding each other there for probably the longest five seconds of my life, but it was me who finally pulled away. 

I had no reason to keep hugging him. 

Well, I mean, I did, but not any that I was really ready to explain to him.

It was so nice, so freeing.

And I think Billie may have been right about him not caring.

In the moment he was hugging me I realized…Cyrus would definitely accept me. 

And if he wasn’t gay or bi or anything like that, he was definitely the type of person who’d not only support me, he’d actively help me by wing-manning me and probably try harder than I ever would to get me a boyfriend.

Because Cyrus was good. And my biggest fan.  He'd support me through everything.  He showed me that this week.

But now was not the time to tell him.  I didn’t want to ruin the moment.

I think I needed to though, soon.  And looking into his eyes I think was I was ready to.

Maybe not come out to the world.  I wasn't ready for that.  But I think I was ready to come out to my best friend.

Since we couldn’t exactly ask Andi or her dad for a ride anymore, Cyrus ended up asking his step-mom if she would pick us up.

I had apparently been quicker than Cyrus when it came to grabbing things from my locker, because I’d been standing outside for nearly a minute before I realized he still wasn’t outside.

My boredom got the best of me, and very quickly.

Out of my peripheral vision I spotted an Administrator cart. Unattended.

In fact a line of them.  They were parked right around the corner from the Admin Office.

But also parked in such a way, you couldn’t see them from the office window.

I wouldn’t…

It’s not like they would see me.  I knew for a fact they couldn't.

And besides, it’s not like any of the admin really hung out outside afterschool.

5 minutes.  They’d never know.

Cyrus would probably think it was funny.

I couldn’t help myself.

I casually walked over to one of the carts and stood by it, just waiting for Cyrus to walk out of the front door so I could ambush him.

Another minute passed before I spotted him.

It was now or never.

I jumped into the cart, quickly putting it into drive as I floored it, heading right towards him.

Ever suave, I pulled up right next to him, smiling as I offered, “Want a ride?”

Cyrus looked humored but also mildly concerned, “Well someone learned nothing from his time in the system.”

“What can I say?” I paused, smirking, but otherwise unable to say much else because of my nervousness around him.  On the bright side, he thought it was funny.

But wow was my old confidence and suaveness in these situations gone.  Normally I could handle stuff like this without my heart racing.  It used to be like that, really.  But now?  I don’t know.  Why was something as simple as talking to Cyrus so heart pumpingly scary?

Why was being afraid to be seen as not straight so scary?

For someone that used to live for those adrenaline pumping moments—the moments I still found in basketball, and honestly in simply talking to this cute boy in front of me—I missed that part of me, because it was definitely gone now.  Now these moments weren't exciting, they were just scary.

Still, maybe it was time to find that excitement again.  And maybe being around Cyrus was a way to find it.  Maybe I needed to be scared, this was the next challenge, the next heart-stopping thing I’d overcome.  Steeling myself with confidence I was hoping I’d eventually have, I continued to smirk, proud of myself, “I live on the edge.”

Cyrus smiled at my words, so calm and confident as he responded to me, “Well, I live in the middle.”

I’m glad he was playing along.  And trust me, I didn’t need him living on the edge too anyways.  Him living in the middle was probably healthy for me.

“Cool,” I smiled at him, trying to think of something witty and suave to say, “I’ll drive you there.”

Smooth.

Cyrus looked hesitant for a moment, “What happens if we get caught?”

Without skipping a beat, I returned, unable to wipe a smile off my face, “You know what happens.”

Cyrus didn’t hesitate to slip his backpack off.  He was smiling.  I think he’d made the decision to follow me the second he saw me; he was just waiting for the invite.  He shrugged, “I guess I could skip a lunch.”

“Buckle up.” I beamed, brushing his arm for a second to pat his back.

Cyrus evidently didn’t notice because he was too busy, actually putting on his seat belt, “Yeah.”

We both immediately cheered as we took off.  I mean, I wasn’t planning on going very far.  And none of the Admin people were even around to hear us.  If anyone asked…well I didn’t really have an alibi, but there’s no way I would get in more trouble.

We drove in donuts around the very large tree planters in front of the school for probably 3 minutes.  I think Cyrus was genuinely impressed by my driving.  I think I freaked him out though because at least two times he reflexively gripped my leg for stability.

I pretended not to notice, but I totally did.

But then his mom texted him that she was around the corner, and I realized the longer I pushed this thing, the more likely I was to get caught.  We pulled right up to the Admin Office and jumped out like we’d never been around it.

Just in time too.  We’d only gotten a few feet away from the cart before Cyrus spotted his mom’s car pull into the parking lot.

Chapter Text

Connor: Hey, are you going to Andi’s party?

What the hell?  I hadn’t seen or even heard from Connor since our season ended earlier this month.  Like literal 3 weeks.  The season ended and the team just split, half of us not even acknowledging each other in the hallways anymore.  Best friends to strangers in a matter of days.  And that was normal.  To say that I expected to hear from Connor—someone who actively avoided me during season—ever again, would have been a lie. 

Yeah, I was confused.  Why would he get in touch now?  Why would he want to?  We had like 3 weeks of school left.  Still, I responded out of some twisted curiosity.

TJ: Yeah

Connor: Ok cool

I couldn’t help myself.

TJ: Everyone going?

Connor: Nah.  Everyone’s busy.  I’m the only one going.

So maybe he was lonely and just looking for somebody to hang out with there?  But, that wouldn't explain why he'd reach out to me.  He was terrified of Reed.  I kept my response short.

TJ: K

He didn’t respond for a whole five minutes.  Maybe that was all?

Connor: I guess I kinda get why you bailed on us

So we were talking about it then.

TJ: I never bailed on you guys.  You guys bailed on me.

Connor: I mean, everything worked out better for you.  Reed found out he got into some private high school and he’s been a total jerk to everyone since.  Always making plans with just Lester.  Doesn't even try.  

Connor: I think he was really only friends with us because of you and after you left && after he found out about the school he stopped pretending he cares about us.

TJ: Reed doesn’t care about anyone but himself.

Connor's response was immediate.  Of course it was.

Connor: He really hates you, TJ.  I don't get it.  He still talks about you all the time.  Says stuff about you.  It’s too much.  I get being mad at you for the gun thing, but this is way worse.

I don't know if I wanted to know that.  I mean, did I care?  I mean, I guess he cared about me in some twisted sense, if he was still mad enough to be talking about me months later.

TJ: What are you saying?

Why am I getting mixed into this?  They weren't my problem anymore.

Connor:  I don’t think I wanna hang out with any of them at Grant.  And can I sit with you guys on Monday?

Wow, Connor—the follower—was trying to jump ship.  It must be bad at their table.  Didn't mean I wanted the coward at mine.

TJ: You do that and you’ll never be able to sit with them again.

Connor: Maybe that’s a good thing?

Connor: And I’m sorry for being a jerk during practices.  Jack was always jealous of you and after the gun situation he thought it was the perfect time to stop pretending he liked you.  Plus, he wanted to get on Reed’s good side.  And I backed him ‘cause he's my best friend.  That makes me a crap person, I get that.

TJ: It’s fine

It really wasn't, but I was so ready to permanently close that chapter of my life.  I was happy where I was.  I worked hard to be happy again.  I didn't need my old life getting in the way. 

Still, Connor's apology was surprising.  And as much as I hated to admit it, I think I needed it.

Connor: It’s not.  And I don’t like what they were saying about you.  You were probably the realest person of all of us.  You didn’t deserve it.  Yeah I get why Reed was mad, but I think he overreacted.

TJ: It all worked out.  Lee and Eddie are cool.  And I’m cool with Buffy and her friends now.

Connor: I’ll see you at the party then?

TJ: Guess so.

I stared at my phone for a good 30 seconds.  Did Connor really just apologize?

I'm wondering if he expected us to talk about this at the party.  I don't know if I want to. 

But, I don't know, it was sort of validating—months too late, granted—that someone else saw how toxic that friend group was too.

I set my phone down as our conversation ended, glancing at myself in the mirror.  I looked nice, I thought.  Nice enough though?

Billie screamed through the house, “You have a total of 2 minutes to get your butt in my car before I rescind my offer to give you a ride to Andi’s house.”

I stuck my head out from the bathroom for a moment, before returning my attentions to the mirror and suddenly realizing, in horror, that I had way too much hair gel in my hair.

But I couldn't do anything about it now, Billie meant it, she'd leave me.  I guess I just had to remind myself not to look in a mirror tonight or I'd remind myself of how much of a mess I looked like right now.

Joining our conversation; my mom caught wind of our Friday night plans—obviously—and started yelling from what I guessed was her room, "What's going on at Andi's house?!  And who's Andi?" 

I shrugged, yelling through the hallway, as I stepped out of the bathroom, “Just a hang out, mom.”

Ever curious, her voice perked up, “A hang out at a girl’s house?”

Without missing a beat, I offered a blank retort as I walked down the hallway and towards the living room, “There’ll be boys there too mom.”

“Yeah boys.” My sister whispered, doing some sort of stupid shimmy dance as I approached her, snickering.

I was tempted to push her, but then I realized she wouldn't take me anywhere if I did, “I hate you.”

“You know who doesn’t hate you,” Billie continued, her voice low, giggly, “Cyrus.”

I rolled my eyes at her.  Yeah, I definitely shouldn't have told her.  The taunts were getting to be like every hour at this point.  A month of this and I was already done.  I wasn't prepared to deal with this for the rest of my life.

We stopped talking and turned our heads though, to the sound of our mom shuffling down the hall in her slippers.

“What time are you coming home?” She glanced between both of us.

I shrugged, “It probably won’t go any later than like 10.”

My sister shrugged as well, “And I’ll pretty much be at Sarah’s until TJ calls me to pick him up.”

My mom glanced between us, before her eyes stopped at me.  She smirked, “Well don’t you look nice TJ?”

I blushed.

Billie couldn’t help herself, elbowing me, “Yeah, who you getting dressed up for, TJ?”

I blushed even harder.

I couldn’t. 

I stared at both of them, attempting to keep a blank expression, before turning around, “I’m going to be in the car.”

“Tee-Jay has a cru-uu-sssh!”

I knew if I turned around to confront Billie it would all but confirm it for my mom.  I ignored their snickers as I walked towards the car.

When Billie finally got in the car, I glared at her.  She was so evil.

“Why would you say that in front of mom?”

“It’s super obvious you like someone, Teej." My sister chuckled, obviously humored by my humiliation, "Mom knows you like someone.  She figured that out all by herself.  Now has she asked if I know who you like?" she shrugged at that, faking coyness, "I told her I knew just as much as she did."

“But she’ll ask who.  She's gonna' ask who.”

Billie rolled her eyes, “I literally never tell mom who I like, so calm down.  You're not obligated to tell her who you like.  This isn’t like a coming out situation, you wierdo.  Stop freaking out.”

My phone vibrated in my hand.  The text was from Kira.  Wow, I was popular tonight.

Kira: You’re going to Andi’s party, right?

TJ: Yeah, I’m on my way now.

Kira: Cool!  So am I.  We can hang out!

I chuckled at the thought.  She was overly eager, wasn't she?

TJ: I’m surprised you’re going, actually.  Buffy’s gonna’ be there.

Kira: Old news.  Don’t care.

My sister sounded way too excited the moment she realized I was on my phone, “Who are you texting?  Is it Cyrus?!”

“Kira." I responded, not missing a beat, and mildly distracted by my phone, "She’s asking if I’m going.”

“Oh.”

I could hear her tone.  And I didn't like it.  “Leave her alone, B.”

Billie sounded proud, and not in the good way, “Fine, I’ll leave her alone when you stop using her as a beard.”

“What are you even talking about?  A beard?”

"Oh please, don't pretend like you don't know LGBT slang.  I have a very hard time believing you didn't starting googling things the second you realized you liked a boy."

Yeah she got me there.

"I still don't know what you're talking about." I whined, "How am I using Kira?  And how would you even know anyways?"

Billie's voice got a bit quieter, “Sarah’s sister tells me things.”

“You told Sarah…" I paused, in horror.  Her sister was in my grade, and at least an acquaintance, "and her sister about me?!”

Billie cringed, “Okay, I told Sarah." She glanced at me with this apologetic look, "Of course I did, I had to!  I was excited, and she asked, you know?  After the whole sleepover thing last month, like...I had to?  But...she didn’t tell Adinah anything, I swear.”

“Okay, but you and Adinah were just talking about me, for fun?!”

Billie shrugged at that, not bothered by this accusation apparently, “Girls talk, dude.  You’re stupid if you don’t think I don’t ask Adinah about you.  She’s like my spy at Jefferson.”

I blushed.  Ugh, I hated the thought of being watched. And Adinah?  She was sort of opinionated and loud, herself.  I'm sure she had things to say about me, “Did she…say anything bad?”

“Well, after the gun thing I asked about you.  She didn’t know about the gun, and I didn't say anything about it, but it was like school gossip that you left the group.  Nobody knew why.  Everyone talked though."  She paused, "Plus, I guess she has a class with Lee, and like I guess she also has a crush on him; so I think she paid more attention than she would have otherwise.”

Well now I felt bad for Adinah.  Billie's just spreading gossip about everyone apparently, “Adinah's gonna’ kill you.  You don’t just talk about other people’s crushes like that.”

“Why ‘cause now you feel responsible for asking Lee if he likes her?”

A little, actually.

“No.”

“Liar.”  She chuckled, “Anyways.  I just wanted to keep tabs on you.  And she just…she mentioned that she sees you and Kira around a lot. Like a lot.”

I didn't get it.  I rolled my eyes at her, “Yeah, she hangs out with us.”

“Well I guess it looks like you like each other.  She says you guys hang off of each other, like all the time apparently.”

“I’m a touchy person, it’s not…”

Why did I feel like I was defending myself for something I was guilty of?  I wasn't guilty.  And I was touchy with literally everyone.  I mean...I started being less touchy with my guy friends out of self-consciousness, but I mean...affection was my thing.  Was that wrong?

“No, TJ, I think it is like that."  My sister accused, "And you’re using Kira to look straight.”

“No I’m not.”

That took way too much energy.  I wasn't trying to look straight.  I was just trying to...not look gay.

Billie was unsurprisingly short, in response to my answer, “Then what are you doing?”

To my own shock, the truth fell out before I could process that it was even true, “Trying to like her!”

My sister didn’t say anything for a minute, but when she did her voice was very calm, “Look, I’m all for queer TJ, but you can’t force yourself to like a girl if you don’t like girls.”

I was getting defensive now.  Like always, “I don’t know that!”

She sighed, “Fine.  But if she likes you, it’s not fair to her, you pretending that she has a chance.”

I slunk in my seat.

She sounded dissapointed now, “Why are you so afraid to be yourself, TJ?”

“Can I not figure out my sexuality by myself?" I snapped, "Like get time for that?!”

“I’m not talking about that, TJ." She swallowed, "Kira’s like a new Reed, for you, I think.  You're starting to twist yourself into someone your not just to fit in and make other people happy?  Does she even give you the same sort of respect you give her?”

Truth be told, she made fun of me and other people all the time, gossiped a lot, and sometimes even made jokes about my sexuality in front of Lee and Eddie.

It was horrifying.  And I felt terrible for lying to them about it, honestly.  But what could I do?  I was in survival mode.

“I mean…”

“And I mean, I at least get Reed.  The kids a really good manipulator.  Like, scary good.  He might be an actual sociopath," she paused, distracting herself, "Anyways, that kid has lied to my face, knowing I knew he was lying, and I still almost believed him.  That's terrifying.  So I get that he got to you.” She shook her head at that, recalling probably every time she ever had to interact with him, “But like, you liked him, so I get why you let him in the first place.”

My face felt hot, I could barely speak, “I did not like Reed.”

Billie was having none of it, “C’mon bro.  Stop lying.”

I groaned at her.  I was not having this conversation right now.

“Like you don’t even like Kira, so what’s in it for you to even play along?  Looking straight?"  Billie pressed, that annoyed tone she always brought out, in full effect now, "That’s super dumb, especially if it means she’s actively getting in the way of you being around someone you want to be around.”

“She’s not stopping me from hanging out with Cyrus.”

“But she’s making you self-conscious about it, no?”

Thankfully, we pulled up to Andi’s house before I was obligated to answer.

“Geez, Andi-whoever-you-are, this is a party.”

Yeah, the decorations felt a bit overboard for a party that really didn't have an occasion.  But, honestly that really seemed her style.  The house looked fun.

Casually I offered, “I think her mom’s hosting the party too.  So it's supervised and everything.”

Billie glanced at me curiously, “Wait, Andi was the one whose mom was like really young when she had her, right?”

I nodded.  Cyrus would go into the details about it sometimes, but I always got the impression he wanted me to ask Andi myself if I really wanted to know.

She shrugged at my response, “Cool mom.  Well, it’s supervised, so...less responsibility for me, I guess.”

I rolled my eyes as I got out of the car.

She waited essentially until my feet hit the sidewalk before she drove off, but not before texting me.  Honestly, I'm just glad she didn't yell out the car.

Billie: Go flirt with some boys tonight! 

Billie: Well…boy.  Flirt with Cyrus.  Have fun tonight!

It was like the second I walked down the walkway to the front door, this sense of nervousness hit me.  I don't know why.  It was a regular party.

The moment quickly passed though, because the second I walked in, I ran into Connor and his cousin Justin, who'd only met once before.  Oh, so I guess we're having this awkward interaction immediately after arriving.

Still, I decided I was going to be nice.  I offered a hello to Connor and greeted Justin genuinely.  I even noticed he had this t-shirt some dumb meme on it.  I didn't even know they made shirts with meme's.  It was probably custom.  And very funny.

Laughing over it, I pointed it out, accidentally touching his chest in the process before I realized what I'd done.  I pulled my hand away, self-consciously, trying not to draw attention to myself over it.

Thankfully Buffy called my name, the perfect excuse to pretend I wasn't overthinking every interaction I had with other human beings.  I waved at them, probably a little too eagerly, the moment I realized Cyrus was next to her.

And then Kira walked in.  I was the first to see her seeing as how I was standing in the doorway.  She looked excited.

And honestly I was excited to see her too, because I needed any excuse to not be around Connor or Cyrus.  I just wanted a stress free night.

Happy to see her, I wrapped an arm around her.  Introducing her to Connor and Justin.

I'd never been more thankful for a human in my life when she whispered, "Wanna' walk around?" and started to walk forward, wrapping an arm around my side.

I don't even think she realized she was saving me.  Either way, I was glad she pulled me away from them.

But then as we walked off like that, and as she gripped my side a bit tighter, I was suddenly aware of what we looked like.

We'd essentially walked into the party with our arms around each other.  That was like some big neon sign announcing us as coupley, wasn't it?

I felt like people were staring.  And guiltily, I think I wanted them to stare.

Oh my god, was my sister right about me ‘playing straight’ for other people.  Dammit, I hated that she was right. 

It had gotten so bad I didn't even realize I was doing it anymore.

Kira attempted to make conversation, the moment she got me alone.  But honestly?  I was still wierded out by the entire interaction that was Connor deciding he ‘forgave’ me today of all days.  It was all I could think about.

After nearly an entire minute of me ignoring her, she finally pressed me, sounding surprisingly patient all things considered, “Are you okay, TJ?”

I didn’t even know how to begin to explain things to her.  And I almost didn’t want to, it was too complicated, and I didn’t want to burden her with the drama.

Not when she already had a ton on her own.

I shook my head at her, glancing around, “Just a weird day.”

She offered again, “You wanna’ walk around?”

I shrugged at her.  Anything to clear my head.  And honestly, anything to not see Cyrus right now.  Especially not after I just paraded myself with her like an idiot into the party.

He’d say something.  She’d say something.  It wasn’t worth it having them in the same room.

And, honestly I was afraid of how I’d act around him, in front of her.  I was already in a weird mood, I didn’t need her making comments on a night that I was just trying to enjoy myself.

Eventually though, we did make it back to the dance floor.  Of course we did, that's where everyone else was.  And Kira wanted to dance.

Cyrus’ whole friend group was enjoying themselves, dancing front and center.  We sort of stopped and watched them for a minute.

Cyrus was doing this weird almost interpretive dancing looking move.  I couldn’t help but chuckle.  He looked goofy, but honestly it was adorable.  He was enjoying himself.  I was happy for him.  Honestly I was sort of jealous he clearly had a confidence that I couldn't have.

Kira turned to me, “Why don’t you wanna’ dance?”

Because I, under no circumstance wanted to embarrass myself in front of Cyrus.  I couldn't say that though.  I shrugged at her, trying to deflect, “I just don’t…but you can go ahead.”

We turned our attentions to the group again.  Kira started to laugh, clearly entertained by something.

“What’s so funny?”

“Look at Cyrus,” she cocked her head towards him, barely attempting to hide her giggles, “that’s hilarious.”

And she didn’t mean it in the nice way.

And that's when it hit me.  It was like deja vu.  I could even see the dirt bikes in the back of my mind.  Cyrus was busy trying and my so-called friends were the first to put him down.  

Oh my god, she was Reed 2.0.  And honestly, the more I thought about it, she really was exactly like Reed: jealous when she wasn’t the center of attention, constantly making accusations when things didn't go the way she wanted; the type of person who just made fun of anyone who was different.

I’d pushed Reed from my life once before, I wasn’t going to let it happen again.  I couldn’t. 

I felt sort of sick at the thought.  I'd done this to myself.  Like some injured dog going back to the one who injured me because it was all I knew.

And yeah, maybe I was allowed to be injured.  Maybe I even deserved it.  But I'd be damned if people brought Cyrus down too, he was too pure, he didn't deserve it.

I immediately glared at her, turning towards her to make sure she knew I was fully paying attention to her.  I was angry, and I wanted her to know it, “You can’t do that.”

She scoffed at me.  She wasn’t getting it.  Or she was playing dumb, “I can’t do what?”

“Laugh at someone for the way they dance!”  Or laugh at someone for being different.  Or laugh at someone because you didn’t like the way they talked to you.

She rolled her eyes at me, already determined that she had the upper hand, “You did it too.”

“No,” I blushed, frustrated, “I didn’t.”

Her accusation was immediate, “I saw the way you were smiling.”  She paused, proud of herself, “You thought it was funny.”

I took a step away from her, now legitimately just angry that she was seriously trying to twist this to make me just as guilty, “I thought it was fun.”

She stared at me blankly.

“You know there’s a difference, right?”

She scoffed, looking hurt now.  Her jaw started to clench, and now she had this proud sort of look in her eye that sort of scared me.  She was about to go into full on argument mode—insult me personally, somehow, “Why don’t you just admit what this is really about?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I made you pick,” she looked me squarely in the eyes, “me or Cyrus, you’d pick Cyrus.”

“Why do you do that?” I groaned.  This whole discussion was ridiculous.  If she made it a battle between her and Cyrus there wasn’t one.  And if the question was who I gave attention to, I don’t understand why I couldn’t be shared.  I don’t know how I was stuck in the middle of this at all, and why she somehow thought I was the guilty one.  I continued, “Make me pick.”

I glanced over at Cyrus, who was so happy and oblivious to the entire conversation.  The guy who, even though he was hurt that I was friends with her, never gave me an ultimatum.  He truly cared about my happiness, in a way that Kira didn’t.  To her I was some sort of weird trophy, a ‘yes-man’ kind of friend.  She never liked that I was so independent.  My eyes remained steadfast on Cyrus, “Cyrus never made me pick.”

“I guess that answers my question.”  She looked hurt, angry, confused—maybe even on the verge of tears, “I’ll see you around.”

Without another word, she stomped out of the house.  She was leaving the party.  Of course she was.  I was the only one she knew here, and I'd effectively shut her down in every way possible.  I wouldn't doubt if I lost her friendship too.

No that that was a bad thing, she was toxic, I don't know why it took me so long to figure out.

I glanced to Cyrus and his friends anxiously, wondering if any of them saw our fight.

It seemed nobody did.

Damn, I couldn’t deny it now though, could I?  Kira and I had been skirting that conversation for a couple months now.  And now that we had it?  My fears from Costume Day festered up again. 

Kira definitely suspected I liked Cyrus, and this time, I all but handed her the ammo.

Would she use that info?  She would.  She had to.  That was her thing. 

Would she say something to the school?  No, I think she’d be a bit more conniving about it.  Tell Lee and Eddie first and before I got a chance to say something, so she'd have some sort of upperhand.  Probably make my life hell anytime she saw me. 

I mean, did I think she was capable of telling the whole school if she got angry enough? 

Sure, but…all because she was mad at me because I didn’t feel for her the same way she felt for me?  Would she stoop that low?

I headed towards the bathroom, trying to process my thoughts. Trying to ignore that possibility.

Here I was, staring into the very real possibility that I could walk into school on Monday and everyone would know.  That I was gay.  That I liked Cyrus.  That I hid it from everyone.

I ended up wandering towards the backyard, reaching rather aggressively for a water bottle from a nearby cooler—like water would cool my emotions.

Still, I downed half of it in one go, like it would.

I froze there, leaning against a wall near the back of the house.  Hoping nobody noticed me or bothered me.  I couldn’t even bring myself to look at my phone.

I couldn’t breathe.  My whole body burned.

After what felt like forever, I finally just stared out at everybody on the patio, feeling sort of detached, empty.  It was weird, like I was looking out at people, watching them, but I couldn’t even process what was going on.  Like I was watching my own personal movie or something.

It felt like forever, this moment where I didn’t even feel like I was really there, before a voice broke through my daze, “You look like those emo CD cover art models from the early 00’s.”  The voice paused, and I turned to realize it was Andi’s mom.  She looked sort of horrified at herself, “Oh geez, did that just make me sound old?”

I chuckled at that, “You’re Andi’s mom?”

“Bex,” she smiled at me, glancing down to the soda can she was trying to open, “You’re TJ, right?”

My face must have clearly shown my shock because she didn’t even give me a chance to ask how the heck she knew that.

“Your names been said in my house a few times,” she paused, trying to figure out how to word herself, “You know, Buffy…Cyrus.”  She hesitated, “Oh, and I went to some of the basketball games last year, so I know you who are, is what I’m saying.”

Unsure of what to say next, I forced a smile, “This is a nice party, Mrs. Mack.  Thanks for letting us all in your house.”

She visibly cringed, “Bex, Bex is fine.  Mrs. Mack is my mom.  And also, this is her house.  So thank her.  Not that she's here.”

She sort of rambled, didn't she?

I watched her curiously as she approached me, she tried to keep her voice low, “You okay, TJ?”

I shook my head at her, sighing, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Well you looked…kind of mopey to me." She forced a smile, "Are you sure you’re okay?”

I swallowed, my throat immediately starting to burn.  Was I really about to unload everything on some random adult I just met?

I mean, who else was I going to be able to talk to about this?  Cyrus?

And I mean, I knew Cyrus trusted Bex.  He always made her sound like some wise older sister.

“I…uh,” my voice immediately broke.  I guess I was going to unload everything on her, “It’s just…I made somebody mad because they realized I didn’t like them like that, and…she uh, she knows who I do like so…”

Bex cringed at that, “You’re afraid she’s gonna’ tell your crush before you do, to get back at you?”

I nodded at that, “More like, tell the whole school before I get a chance to say something to them,” I paused, “And I don’t…know if I’m ready to say…”

She nodded at that, leaning against the wall next to me, “Yeah, I get that.  When I was pregnant with Andi, obviously at some point it was going to be pretty obvious that I was pregnant.  That's kind of how it works, obviously."  She shook her head at that, "Anyways, the whole situation felt sort of helpless.  And, I had this opportunity to say something before things got obvious.  And getting the choice to say...whatever...on your own terms, it gives you some of that power back.  Not all of it, that's not possible. But some of it," she glanced at me, this warmness in her eyes, "Still, like telling my parents before they found out the obvious way, it was probably the scariest thing I'd ever done."

I didn’t say anything in response, I couldn’t.  I didn’t know what to say.  It was like she saw right through me.

“I got the power to say it to them.  On my time and my terms.  And yeah, people definitely talked about me—it’s a small town—some people knew before I got to tell them.  That wasn’t fun.  I don't know if any of this is relevant.  But I'm trying to say, I kind of get what your going through."

I sighed, being intentionally vague, and—I don't know, hoping she got it,  “I shouldn’t have to tell them.”

“No," she forced a smile, "you shouldn’t.”  She paused, considering her next question, “How do you think your crush would react if you did tell them you liked them?”

I stumbled through my words, trying to be careful, “I don’t know if they like…” I paused, holding my breath, not really sure where I was going with this without being too obvious, “let alone…”

That was horrible.  I was horrible with words. And vagueness.  She probably understood exactly what I meant because I just…didn’t know how to use the English language.

But she was so warm in her response.  Not attempting to understand, but understanding all the same.  She smiled at me, “Yeah...I feel that.”

Suddenly I felt so calm.  I felt so seen.  I finally cracked a smile, cocking my head towards the stage, where Bowie and Jonah were setting up various instruments, “What’s going on there?”

“Oh, some sort of open mic thing Bowie set up.  Really, I think the only one who’s gonna’ do it is Jonah…but, Jonah needs to perform somewhere other than the Red Rooster at some point.”

“Oh, cool.”

She turned her head towards me again, “You know.  There’s power in privacy.  Keeping things to yourself until you’re ready to talk about them.  But you know what else is powerful?”

“What?”

“Being loud and proud and owning it,” she shrugged, “taking that power back.”

Loud and proud?  Uh…so she definitely suspected I was gay then?  That’s where this felt like it was going.

“Huh?”

She suddenly stood tall, looking concerningly excited, “You play any instruments?”

Why did I answer her?  I already suspected where this was going.  “Uh, uhm…piano, I guess?”

“I have a plan,” she smiled eagerly, starting to pace, “I need to go find Cyrus.”

She was already walking away, and at the mention of his name, my stomach couldn’t help but lurch.  On instinct, I yelped, "No!"

"What?" She suddenly turned to me, looking genuinely clueless; before this look of total realization hit her.  She didn't say anything, but her mouth made an "O".

Yeah, no...she definitely got it now.  Oops.

Still, I attempted to play it off as genuine clueless, “I...what do you need Cyrus for, exactly?”

“I have a plan,” she repeated, a smile on her face now that the moment passed.  She looked at me as if the answer was obvious, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She took a few steps forward, before turning to smile at me again, stopping for a moment, “Two words, the ultimate empowerment goddess: Lady Gaga.”

Huh?  And like that she disappeared, and I was stuck standing there; frozen with trying to figure out whatever the hell she was trying to do. 

Within what felt like seconds, Bex was back; Cyrus and Amber in tow.

The three of us looked at her with absolute confusion.  But honestly I think her energy is the reason we went along at all.

“So TJ here just told me he plays piano,” Cyrus’ jaw dropped, he turned towards me in shock.  He looked at me like he had about a billion questions he was very eager to ask about, but fortunately for me; Bex spoke before he could possibly interrupt, “So I was thinking…we got a guitar, piano…I think it’s time to bring out Lady Gaga.  Because honestly, no party is complete without her.”

Amber beamed at that, “Yes, please!”

“Born This Way, obviously,” she glanced equally between the three of us, before turning directly to Amber, “Amber, can you help me hand out mics, when the time comes?  We're doing karaoke.”

She beamed, "As long as I get one."

"Of course," Bex smiled at her, turning to me, "TJ, I'm hoping you'll play piano."

Play piano for like the LGBT anthem?  Uh...

"And Cy, you have the most important job.  I was hoping you'd start the song," she was quick to continue, offsetting any objection he'd have, "Hopefully after like the first verse we can get a bunch of people on stage singing, so really you'd only be singing like 3 words by yourself.  I just...need someone to start off the song."

Understandably, he looked petrified at the proposition. “Me?!”

“Cyrus, you have a beautiful voice. You're perfect to start it.  Jonah starting it would be boring, everyone would expect that." She paused, "And also you two were the first people I saw when I went looking for people…so you're in charge now," she chuckled awkwardly, "uh, go find Andi, Buffy, and Jonah and I’ll convince people to go out to the patio.”  She glanced eagerly at us, but honestly Amber looked the only one of us actually excited over the idea.

“It’ll be great!” Bex beamed, starting to pace again.  She was clearly running a million miles a minute. 

"Um, okay?" He offered in response, though he didn't sound completely sure of himself.  On the bright side, he was smiling.  So, he was at least excited for it, even if he did sound nervous.

Suddenly, Bex stopped pacing long enough to look me dead in the eyes, “Remember, TJ.  You have the power.”

If Cyrus was willing to sing an LGBT anthem, then maybe I was brave enough to play piano and stand on that stage right next to him.

But why in the hell were her words the most empowering thing I could possibly hear?  And why in the hell was it convincing me to sing an LGBT anthem in front of half of the school?

That was absolutely exhilarating.

Truth be told, the moment, “No matter gay, straight, or bi; lesbian, transgendered life…” left my lips, it was like this weight left my chest. 

When we sang, “Don’t hide yourself in regret.” I damn near started crying. Wow, I'm a mess.

The whole thing happened so fast.  It went better than I thought it would.  Cyrus' entire friend group was singing on stage with us.

Bex even played guitar!

Naturally, everyone swarmed to me—the "popular basketball captain"—for what felt like 20 minutes.  Of course they did, people were apparently very excited to find out I played piano.

Thankfully, the excitement started to die down long enough that I could actually have a legitimate conversation with partygoers.  At some point I found myself near a fire pit, embroiled in a conversation with a couple of classmates from my English class.  One of them even mentioned that her older sister was in the ‘jazz ensemble at Grant’ and how I should definitely look into it when I got there, because apparently I was pretty good at piano.

I thanked them, but I’m not gonna’ lie, I was definitely thankful when they walked away.

All that attention was sort of overwhelming and exhausting.

I sort of just wanted to sit and process.  I mean, what did I just do?

Attempting to sit and process, I sat on a nearby bench.  But even that only lasted seconds.

I’d barely gotten myself comfortable on the bench when a figure appeared in my peripheral

“Can I sit?”

I turned my head, only to realize it was Cyrus.  Probably the only person I was thankful to see in that moment.  Wow, had I really gone this much through the party without actually interacting with him?

I guess there was no harm in talking to him now; now that Kira was definitely not here, and definitely not in my life anymore.

And, you know, definitely outed myself at least as an ally if not outright somewhere on the LGBT scale myself, in front of the entire party.

As Cyrus stood there, waiting for a reply, my mind immediately went to him standing next to me as we sang.  The whole thing, it was so freeing, and so fun.  That's what it felt like to not care?  Maybe I did want more of it. 

Because, I mean, looking out at all my classmates who truly embodied the lyrics, singing every word with conviction, I felt sort of overwhelmed.

Even if Kira did out me, things would be okay.  The school, I think, would have my back.  Or at the very least they wouldn't care in a good way.

I smiled at him, nodding, “Sure.”

He sounded genuinely curious.  I didn't blame him, we basically arrived together, “What happened to Kira?”

Ugh.  I’d almost forgotten about that.  I can’t believe I got myself mixed up with her.  Let myself ignore all the red flags for as long as I did.  That I got caught up in her spell even after I knew she was manipulating me and everyone around me.

“I poured water on her,” I scoffed, “and she melted.”

Cyrus looked humored at that.  And maybe a little surprised that I was talking about her with negativity, “I actually buy that.”

I groaned, still pretty angry about how she confronted me.  I mean, who makes someone feel insecure like that just because they don’t like you in that way? “She isn’t a nice person.”

“You know,” Cyrus immediately accused, “people used to say that about you.”

“Well,” I swallowed.  He was talking about me, obviously.  I’d changed since last year.  And yeah, that was definitely my motivation for befriending Kira, even after she said and did some not so nice things.  I mean, it’s not like I’m entirely innocent either.  But I realize now, the difference between me and her was that I was ready to change, to be the better person I was always capable of being, “sometimes there’s a nice person on the inside trying to get out.”

Cyrus nodded, considering this, before whispering, “I know that now.”  He paused, evidently trying to change the subject.  There was a joy, maybe even a hopefulness in his tone, “But…still a lot of things I don’t know.”

I leaned forward, invested in the conversation.  I liked where this was going, “Like what?”

“Like that you play piano?”

Had I really never mentioned that?  My mom gave me lessons like every week since I was like 5.  Huh, I guess I was so used to the habit of it, I never thought to mention it.

I shrugged, figuring it was obvious, “My mom’s a piano teacher.”

Cyrus shook his head at me, but a small smile played on his lips, “Didn’t know that either.”

“I’m not mysterious." I smirked, trying to feel confident, "Ask me anything.”

He considered my offer for a moment before looking smug.  He definitely thought of something.

“Okay.”  He leaned forward, as if trying to find out some secret gossip, “What does T.J. stand for?”

From the pit of my stomach, the answer was immediate, “Except that.”

Cyrus looked entertained at that, “You won’t tell me your name?”

No, no.  I aggressively shook my head.  That would definitely qualify under the 'Embarass myself in front of Cyrus' category'.

Cyrus smirked at my horror, “And you think that’s not mysterious?”

“Okay.  There’s, like, five people in the world who know it,” I affirmed, hoping that would be enough for him, “and they’re all named Kippen.”

“You should know that if you don’t tell me,” he looked me in the eyes, “I will be the first person ever to literally die of curiosity.”

I have absolutely no doubt in mind he would find some way to FBI the whole thing and legitimately do everything in his power to find out.  I could see it now.  Him being down at City Hall, asking for my birth certificate.  He would never stop trying to find out.  It would drive me insane.

Still, all he really needed to do was look me in the eyes.  I trusted him.  I trusted him more than anybody else in the world.  And how was I supposed to come out to him, if I couldn’t even tell him my name.

I scoffed, “Alright.” I turned towards him, whispering, genuinely terrified now that I gave him ammo, “If I tell you…you can never use it.”

“I won’t.”

“Or tell anyone else.”

“I promise.”

Feel genuinely nervous and desperate now, I looked him in the eyes.  I was basically trusting him with my life at this point, “Like, Cyrus, you gotta’ swear.”

Lord knows if Buffy found out she’d never ever stop making fun of me.  I’d never felt more serious in my whole life.

“I do, I do, I swear!”  He looked me in the eyes again, his tone low and serious, “I swear.”

I felt like I couldn’t breathe.  I was gonna’ say it wasn’t I?  Oh gosh, this was terrifying. 

I just sort of stared at him for a moment, hoping he’d take the question back.  He didn’t. 

After what felt like forever, I finally sighed, “Alright.”  I hesitated, “My parents are way into music…”

He knew that though.  Honestly, it was a shock he didn’t know I played piano, music was like a defining characteristic of my home.

Anyways….I had to continue, didn’t I, “…and they named me for their favorite artists.”

Cyrus shook his head at me, nonverbally begging me to continue.  He couldn’t possibly know where this is going.

“That’s not so strange.”

Yeah, he didn’t get it.  Who would guess my parents would be so ridiculous.  I mean, Billie’s name was alright, paying homage to both Billie Holiday and Billie Jean King, both iconic and influential women in their own respects.  Even her middle name, Joan, evoked the legend that was Joan Jett.

But Thelonius Jagger.  I mean, yeah Theolonius Monk was a jazz legend too.  And Mick Jagger was well…Mick Jagger.  But I couldn’t exactly make my name sound normal like she could.  It was like my parents jumped off the deep end level of crazy when they had me.

And, I mean, sometimes my sister called me Theo, because that was a normal sounding public nickname…but I don’t know, I didn’t blame my grandparetns for pushing so hard to just call me 'TJ'.

I liked the name TJ, don’t get me wrong, but I didn’t like that I had to do it because I had absolutely ridiculous parents.

My stomach twisted as I allowed myself to continue, “T.J. stands for…” I couldn’t do it oh my god, but he was staring at me, just waiting.  I had to say it, didn’t I?  I took another breath, my face feeling so hot, “Thelonius…Jagger.”

He made this face.  First of confusion, but honestly I was just waiting for him to break out in laughter.  It was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous.  And embarrassing.  He was going to make fun of me.

In disbelief, he repeated, “Thelonius Jagger?”

I just stared at him, self-conscious, and waiting for the punch line to hit.

“Are you kidding?”

I shook my head.  I could hear the soft chuckle.  He thought I was joking.

And then…

"That’s is a great name!”

Wait, what?

He sounded even more enthusiastic, “I love that name!”

I couldn’t help but blush.  He didn’t hate it.  Suddenly I could breathe again.  He wasn’t going to laugh at me?

Attempting to breath a sigh of relief, but in genuine disbelief, I smiled, “You do?”

Without hesitation he smiled back, as if it was obvious, “Yes.”

Feel relieved, I let myself joke for a minute, “Well, my grandparents didn’t.” I turned towards him, recalling the story my grandparents were so fond of telling every time I visited them, I even copied their voice, “And they were like ‘That’s a ridiculous name.  We’re calling him T.J.’”

Cyrus chuckled at that.

I smiled, relaxing into the conversation, “So I’ve been T.J. since I’ve been three days old.”

Oh my god, I felt invigorated.  Cyrus really would support me.  I could really actually trust him.  He meant it when he said he had my back.  This was the proof.  If he could really hear my name and not even bat an eyelash at it…he’d support me no matter what, wouldn’t he?

And then, he just, he looked at me.  With these soft eyes.  And I looked at him, unable to break from whatever spell it had over me.

I think…maybe it was time.  Maybe I could do it.  He wouldn’t laugh, he’d support me.

And more importantly, after everything tonight, I suddenly felt like I had to say something.

And I don’t know, it felt like this was that moment.

Holding my breath, I whispered, “Is there anything else you want to know?”

I don’t know what came over me.  Maybe it was this sense that, I don’t know…maybe I just knew?  The way he always had my back, the way he looked into my eyes.  Did I convince myself that maybe this was mutual?  Had Billie really gotten in my head after all this and convinced me that everything he'd done the past month—and really ever—could 'clearly be interpreted as flirting'?"

I’m not really sure, but I just knew that I needed to try.  And worse case, I’d play I off like I needed support. 

With some confidence I didn’t know I had, I inched my hand closer to his.

He looked down at my hand.

My stomach twisted.

He knew.  He knew what I was trying to do.

And he…looked up at me and sort of smiled this really subtle smile?

Uh…oh my god I was frozen.  I didn't know what to do or how to react.  Maybe Billie was right.  Maybe he really did like me back.  Why wasn’t he stopping me?  Why was he still looking into my eyes so softly?

After what felt like forever, he broke out into a bigger smile, “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

He knew.  He knew I was gay and that I liked him.  And he was begging me to say it.

Like I was releasing actual weight with my words, I felt my body force out a weak and helpless, “Yeah.”

I forced a smile.  Petrified.  It was out there, wasn’t it?  And he wasn’t backing away.  He was looking at me the same way I looked at him.

I had to ask, didn’t I?  I had to be brave.  He was telling me to be brave.

I inched my fingers forward again, this time gently tapping his hand with my fingers.

It’s like he didn’t even notice.  His eyes were set on me.  But I knew he noticed, his hand sort of froze the second I touched it.

But he didn’t stop me.

Oh my god, he liked me.  He would have stopped me by now if he didn’t.  My face felt hot and I couldn't breathe, but this was probably the most exhilarating moment of my life.

It was in the air.  It was pretty much obvious I liked him.  Was he waiting for me to ask?  Was he going to say it?

Unable to bear the questions in my head, I whispered, “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

Cyrus smiled at me, a breathy, “yes” leaving his lips.

Oh.  My.  God.  He really did like me!

My crush liked me?

I couldn’t breathe.  I felt like crying.

It was out there.  He knew I was gay.  He knew I liked him.  And he didn’t reject me or say I was weird.  He looked me boldly in the eye and basically admitted he liked me too.

It was literal best case scenario, and I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed.

I’d process it all later.  Probably tonight.  Maybe whenever Cyrus texts me after this to talk about it.

But right now?

Right now I just wanted to hold his hand.

Because he’d let me.  And because this time it would mean the same thing to both of us.

Carefully, I reached for the underside of his palm.  He curled it up carefully, opening his palm as I interlaced our hands.

Oh my god.  We were holding hands.

I basically had a boyfriend.  For right now at least—like until we fully talked things out—I could actually pretend that Cyrus of all people was my boyfriend.

I couldn’t stop smiling.  I’d never felt so relieved in my life.

Without even really meaning to, I let out a sigh.  Wow, this was happening.

He let out a sigh too, smiling.

Chapter Text

On the ride back home from the party, I genuinely had no idea how I managed to go an entire car ride with my sister without spilling the beans.

I thought my hidden smiles were enough to give it away, but honestly?  She didn't seem all that interested in me.  She looked tired and frustrated.

I thought about asking her what was going on, but then I didn't know if I was ready for a full blown conversation that would eventually end with me blurting out that I held Cyrus' hand.

No, I couldn't tell Billie that, she'd ask too many questions I definitely didn't have answers to.

When we finally got home, I was quick to go to my room, muttering that I really needed to 'sleep' as it was already midnight.

Billie paid no attention, she barged to her room.

If I wasn't dealing with my own stuff, I'd ask her.  But I genuinely didn't think I could handle much at this point.  I was excited and exhuasted and honestly just waiting for a text from Cyrus, to confirm something happened tonight.

But then, it had been a whole two hours since we held hands and Cyrus hadn't texted me yet.  My phone was blissfully empty.  And I'm not exactly saying I hoped he would text, but I expected him to.  He always texted me after things happened in his life.

But this one time, he didn't.  Was that a bad thing?

And as the hours passed, and I stared at my phone like it would somehow sudden a text I knew that was never coming, and I still couldn't sleep; the anxiety that he hadn't texted me progressively felt heavier.

And then, right around 2:30 A.M., the anxiety of the whole situation finally hit me.

I basically had a boyfriend.  And unless I planned on staying extremely secretive about it I'd have to start doing things like coming out, being comfortable being coupley in public, and admitting to myself that a boyfriend was a point of no return for me.

Somehow a boy just doing something innocent like holding my hand was enough.  I was spiraling.  My entire life was going to change and I could do nothing about it.

Oh my god, did anyone see us holding hands?  Were people already talking about it?  The gay basketball captain.

Hell, I'd just barely come to terms with the implications of having a crush on a boy, of what that meant for my whole life.  Having an actual full blown relationship?  Having someone like me back?  It felt like too much.  I could never have enough time to process that. 

I think I fell asleep somewhere around 3.  Visions of that moment of us holding hands on an eternal repeat in my head.

I was violently torn from the few blissful hours of sleep I could get at exactly 8:02.  My phone was vibrating.

The text was short.  To the point.  But it still made my stomach twist.

Cy: We need to talk about last night.  Can you meet me at the park anytime before 9:30?

Well there was no denying that last night happened, was there?  Cyrus remembered it too.

Feeling much more nervous than I should have, I stared at my phone helplessly for what felt like two minutes, just trying to think of a response.

I didn't even have it in me to be annoyed that he texted me so early.  And I hated myself for knowing that he could ask me to meet him at 5 A.M. and my answer would always be an immediate yes.

Me: Let me check with my parents that it’s okay.  I can be there in like 30 minutes?

Cy: See you in a half hour :)

I blushed.  Okay, the happy face was good.  Good sign.  He didn’t regret whatever last night was.

Still half asleep, I hobbled my way towards the kitchen to at least get food in my system before allowing myself to deal with whatever was now happening with Cyrus.

Unsurprisingly, my mom was poring over her laptop while simultaneously trying to stuff a backpack full of sheet music and eating what looked like toast.

“You look nice,” I offered, trying to make conversation.

“And you look…awake?" She offered, looking confused, "It’s early for you bud.”

I shrugged, “Couldn’t sleep.  Couldn’t stay asleep I guess."  I glanced at her outfit.  She was in a dressy dress with her hair and make up done nice.  My mom's style was always more relaxed, bohemian.  Whoever this woman was, it wasn't my mom, "Why do you look nice?”

She glared at me.

“I’m accompanying a student’s Senior Recital tonight and I won’t have time to come back and change.”  She groaned loudly as she glanced at the obnoxious collection of papers in front of her, “I don’t know why I agreed to be a part of that Jazz Band.  I didn’t have time to begin with.”  She grumbled to herself, “6…6 pieces.”

“Because it sounded fun.”

 She glared at me.

“Anyways," I swallowed, nervous that she would somehow say no, "I was gonna’ go hang out with Cyrus today?  Is that okay?”

She glanced at me curiously, “Like right now?  Is he even awake?”

I forced a smile, “Yeah…he kind of woke me up, actually.  He wants to know if I can meet up with him right now.”

She clicked her lips, “And you’ll be out all day?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know, actually.”

She shrugged, processing her helplessness in all of it and probably annoyed that she had to be a parent in the midst of all her work stress, “Yeah, yeah sure.  It’s not like I have to worry about you when you’re with him.”

Well at least that meant she liked him.  If...things came to that, I guess.

Trying to encourage her to cool down a bit, I joked, “Excuse me, we got out and do illegal things all the time.  I stole a golf cart once.”

She glared at me for a moment, considering a response before shaking her head, “No no...plausible deniability.  Don’t wanna’ know.”

I swallowed, not sure what to say anymore, “I um…I’m gonna’ go get dressed.”

“Do you want a ride?”

I shook my head, “No, ‘cause then I’ll have to figure out how to get home.  I’ll just bike.”

“Check in with me every once in a while today, k?”

I forced a smile.  Nodding.

The ride to the park felt like riding on jello.  I felt like I was going a mile an hour and the closer I got to the park the harder it felt to get there.  My legs just wouldn't cooperate.  My mind didn't want my body to cooperate.  The sooner I got there, the sooner I had to confront Cyrus and all of the thoughts that ran through my head last night.

I parked my bike at the edge of the park, in the designated bike area, but even from my spot I could roughly see that Cyrus was sitting there on the swings, even from a hundred yards away.

And it being this early, the only people I saw at the park was some early morning yoga class much too far away to notice two gay boys trying to have the dreaded 'Define The Relationship' talk.

My stomach was in knots as I slowly inched myself closer and closer to the swings.

I was still a good distance away when Cyrus spotted me.  He sort of froze in his spot before standing.  I could see him anxiously adjusting his shirt.

Once I got within 15 or so feet of him I felt myself walk even slower.

But Cyrus didn’t approach me.

Oh, I guess I had to get closer.  I had to approach him.

I forced a smile as I got within a few feet of him.  Not sure what to do with myself, I held my arm out for a hug, but even that felt weird. 

Still, he took the opportunity to hug me but the whole thing felt so rushed and awkward and stiff, I was honestly really okay with him letting go of me.

I felt like I ran to the swing, just to escape any opportunity for physical contact.  I just…couldn’t handle it.  I felt too awkward about it.  I felt too awkward about what it meant.

Thankfully, Cyrus didn’t comment on it, he just sat in his swing, staring at me.

We were quiet for an uncomfortable length of time before Cyrus broke it, “So…”

“So…”

“So uh…" Cyrus chuckled uncomfortably, "I guess we should talk about last night?”

I wasn’t proud of it, but my immediate response was, “Do we have to?”

“Well, no,” Cyrus got quiet, “But uh…I woke up sort of excited this morning and was fully planning on telling the crew about it at The Spoon later but then I realized…that’s um…I guess I just want to get my story straight before I say something…inaccurate to them?”  He paused again, looking concerned for me, “Plus, I guess, if you don’t want me saying anything to them, I have to respect that too.”

I let out a long sigh.

Cyrus sounded self-conscious now, “I didn’t imagine last night, did I?  I…this is new territory for me, I don’t know how…”

I blushed, no hint of a smile on my face, only nervous energy, “No, you didn’t imagine it.  We definitely held hands.”

“So you…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence, but I knew what he meant.  He was trying to ask me what it meant.

“I uh…” I considered my words.  I guess I had to tell him everything now, didn't I?  “I’m pretty sure I’m gay.  I think.  I’m not sure exactly, but like…not straight?”  My face started burning at the words, “Wow…I think that’s the first time I’ve said that out loud.”

“Yeah, it’s a weird feeling saying it the first few times,” he smiled, sounding proud of himself.  I guess he was out to people then?

Cyrus continued, reflecting fondly, “I remembered after I told Jonah, I thought I could like run a marathon.  This really big relief.”

“So you’re…you’ve told…”

“Buffy was the first person I told.  Then a few months later Andi.  Then much later Jonah,” he paused, considering the count, “And I guess I’m a little too comfortable at Andi’s house and totally forgot that I hadn’t actually come out to Bex.  Buffy and I were doing homework in the kitchen a couple months ago while Bex was getting food and I uh…well I was talking about you, in a pretty obvious way so…that’s kind of how she found out.  She was super supportive, of course.”

By that logic, I’m betting Bex was hoping something would happen between us the moment she realized I was talking about Cyrus last night.

And apparently I wasn’t the only middle school boy to come out to her.

I swallowed, feeling small, “Yeah, I just barely told Billie a few weeks ago.  Haven’t really told anyone else.”

Almost as if he wasn’t listening, he interrupted, “Oh, also I sort of accidentally came out to my mom last night!”

“What?!  How do you accidentally come out?”

“Well she picked me up from the party, and I was in a really good mood and I may have kiiiiinnnd of mentioned that I thought my crush liked me and before I realized what I was saying I said the word ‘he’ soo…” he quickly recovered, “But I mean, I didn’t say who it was.  And trust me, she suddenly wanted to know everything.”

“So she was okay with it then?”

“Oh yeah,” Cyrus smiled, “She was just excited at the thought of me dating someone,” he paused, frowning, his mind somewhere else, “It’s probably good I didn’t say who though, I should probably tell her I’m not out publicly ‘cause she’ll tell all of Shadyside if I don’t stop her.”

Well that’s terrifying.

“Anyways,” I sighed, feeling antsy, “I guess we should figure some stuff out if you’re over here telling people things.”

Cyrus forced a smile at me, “Where do you want to start?”

I let out a long sigh, “I’m guessing trying to convince that I don’t like you, would be…not believable.”

Cyrus lips turned up into a small smile, almost a smirk, “Well, you did hold my hand.  And you made it sound like you did.”

I blushed, “No…I do.”  I could feel my face grow warm.  It was weird still admitting it, even though it was already so obvious, “I like you, it’s just—”

“You never thought you’d get to this point?”

I nodded at him.

“So…" he paused, sounding more curious than anything, "what does that make us?”

I could feel my stomach twist.  This was all just too overwhelming, and honestly I didn’t feel ready.  I hated myself that I was looking in his eyes and all I could feel was terror.  After everything, was I really self-sabotaging right now?

I guess that's for average though.  When did I not self-sabotage?

“Look, Cyrus…”

He didn’t say anything, but I could see the genuine worry and concern in his eyes.  He immediately sat up straight.

“I…I don’t know if I’ve had as much time to…process, I guess…as you have?  And I’ve known that I liked you for a while now.  But…liking you and like dating you are two really different things.  I mean, look at what I did these past two months…”

Cyrus’ response was immediate, “What really happened with Costume Day, TJ?”

I let out a long sigh.  Feeling guilty all over again, “It was…me being self-conscious.  Kira made me feel like doing a costume with you would look coupley and…I wasn’t ready to come out to you or tell you how I felt and somehow I convinced myself that people would figure out I liked you and it would get back to you somehow.  Like walking into that school with you would be this big announcement that we were something, and I wasn’t ready to even consider that yet.”

He sighed, “And you’re still not ready?”

I sighed too, “I’m more ready than before.  I think I’m ready for other people to know about me.  But…not really so public, you know?  Like telling friends...I just, people pay attention to the gay athlete, you know?  And that's a lot of pressure at 14.”

“So, you’re saying that you don’t want to date, then?”  He sounded disappointed.

“I do,” I swallowed, “I just…I don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship.  Especially like one that other people know about.  You’re…you know what you want and who you are, you’ve always been like that.  I’m still not sure.  And like, this is all just really overwhelming.  But I never ever thought you’d like me back, so I don’t…know how to…be a boyfriend to a boy.”

“Well neither do I,” Cyrus shrugged, chuckling, “My only relationship was to a girl and boy…well, that was a time.  I kissed her and I knew.”

“You’ve had a girlfriend and a first kiss?”

He sounded genuinely shocked, “You haven’t?!  But you're so....” he paused unsure of what to say, before quietly whispering self-consciously, "cute."

I blushed at that, but deciding against responding to it for the sake of my sanity, the world already made my heart beat like a million miles a minute.  I forced a smile, “Well, I had a girlfriend, between 6^th and 7^th grade, but we only sort of dated over the summer for a couple weeks and barely saw each other.  And we…I’ve never kissed anyone.”

Cyrus looked hopeful, and a little bit flirty, “Too early?”

I blushed at that.  I didn’t expect him to be so brave.  I didn’t expect to be as flattered as I was.

Still, my anxiety was still pretty high over it all, and all of his flirting was not helping.

“Maybe we can start with just holding hands for now.” I forced a smile, trying to offer him something I could handle.

Cyrus smiled at that, “I’m okay with that.”

“If we…if you give me time, let me sort of get used to this, maybe one day I’ll act like a normal boyfriend.”

Cyrus beamed at that, “Are you asking?”

I wasn’t sure, “Should I?”

“I’ll wait for you until you’re ready, TJ." He smiled, genuine, "Maybe just knowing you like me back is enough for this week, anyways.”

“I’m sorry."  I felt so guilty.  He was so ready.  And he liked me.  But I just...couldn't.  "I’m sure you wanted a for sure boyfriend out of this conversation.  And I want to be that, I just…you deserve someone as confident and brave as you, and I’m not…there yet.  I want to be, for you.”

“No.  Be brave.  For you.  Coming out is hard enough."  He looked so serious at that.  He was so much wiser than I was.  "And hey, if we’re secret somethings until you’re ready to tell more people, I’m not gonna’ rush you.”

“I’m okay with…you telling your friends though. Maybe that we held hands or—”

“Maybe not that, actually.  They’ll start trying to get us together,” he considered, chuckling, “And maybe you should tell them, so they only know what you’re comfortable saying.”

“I brought a guest!”  Cyrus announced eagerly, and loud enough for half of The Spoon to hear him.  He was nearly dragging me by my sweater as he lead me towards his group of friends.

Thankfully, The Spoon was busy enough that nobody actually paid him any attention, because I was definitely blushing.

They all smiled at me from a corner booth.  Andi, Buffy, and Jonah.

They waved, looking eager.

My stomach immediately twisted.  Why was all of this suddenly so hard?  They were just people.

And you know, my new 'not-boyfriend's' best friends.

At the sight of me, Jonah immediately stood up.  Leaving the booth in search of an extra seat.

I sort of stood there, waiting for him, ready to take the chair from him the second he came back.

But then as he walked back towards us, and I reached out for the chair, he held the chair tight, shaking his head, “It’s fine, TJ.  You can sit in the booth.  I like sitting on the end anyways.”

Why was I feeling so self-conscious?  “Are you sure?”

He was just being nice, but I honestly couldn't handle it, “You’re our guest.”

“Morning TJ,” Buffy smiled.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” Andi smiled, granting me with a few seconds of genuine attention, before immediately turning to Buffy, “Anyways, you said you had news?”

Buffy blushed, glancing at me self-consciously for a moment before she decided she didn't care. “So um, Marty sort of kissed me last night,” she got sort of giddy as she said it, “So...yeah.  And, we're supposed to hang out later today.  Our first real actual date."

"Took you guys long enough," Cyrus teased, "I'm happy for you Buffy!"

"Seriously."  Andi looked at her knowingly, elbowing Buffy, "So when are you going to let him hang out with us.  He'll need to be initiated."

Oh, god.  Oh god no.  That was going to be me soon, wasn't it.

"Who cares about that," Cyrus nearly slammed his hand on the table, "You kept this valuable information from us until now!  You looked me in the eyes yesterday and didn't say anything."

I didn't mean to make it so obvious, but I glared at him.  He was doing the same thing.

Much calmer than I could ever respond, she shrugged, “Last night was for me.  And more about Andi…so it didn’t really come up.”

Cyrus crossed his arms at his chest, "Didn't come up."

Oh, please. Dude.

Thankfully Jonah changed topics, by glancing at Andi with this look of dissapointment, “Do we really only have a few weeks left with you?”

“You make it sound like we don’t have the entire summer to hang out before I start at SAVA.” She paused, chuckling “Besides, it’s only on the other side of town.  We can still hang out after school and on weekends.”

SAVA was that art school.  Oh, she was going to a different high school?  Wow, I guess their little crew was sort of breaking up then?

“Will we though?  Between extra curriculars and sports and your art activities, will we?”  Cyrus interjected, looking sad himself now, "It'll never be the same after this.  It's so sad."  He paused, "We're all super proud of you though!"

Andi’s smile dropped at that, “Let’s not think that far ahead…” 

The group of us got quiet for a moment.

But then suddenly Andi returned her attentions to Cyrus, smirking “Oh, Cy…what was so ‘life-changing’ about last night, by the way?”

I know she didn't mean to make it so obvious, but I saw her turn to me for a second the moment she said it.  She looked far too happy.

Thankfully, Cyrus was trying to play clueless, “Oh?  Did I say that?  I don’t remember.”

Buffy glared at him.

Cyrus started mumbling, “I don’t know if TJ really wants to hear…”

“I thought he was your best friend,” Buffy teased, she looked way too proud of herself.

“Best guy friend,” he immediately turned to Jonah.  Always playing peace-keeper, “Which, I have two of.  Like I have two best girl friends.”

I forced a smile, not sure how to segue, but now seemed like the best opportunity to save him from this mess.  They were receptive, and clearly accepting of him.  From under the table I slyly brushed my hand against his leg.  He immediately sat up tall, but he attempted to hide it.  I forced a smile, “Tell us, Cy.”

“Oh…” he paused, trying to figure out how to word it.  Maybe we should have rehearsed what we were going to say to them.  I put him in a really awkward position. “Uh…well…” he glanced at me, sounding excited, “I came out to TJ last night.”

Buffy and Andi’s responses were mixes of curiosity, hopefulness, and confusion.  I’m guessing that’s not what they expected to hear him say. “Oh?”

In their defense, neither did I.

“Yeah,” I sighed, smiling, “We um...well we talked last night about stuff and uh…it sort of just happened.”

I was throwing him under the bus.  Ugh.  But this was terrifying.  It's not that I thought they wouldn't be supportive, it's more that I thought they'd be too supportive, and weasel their way into whatever Cyrus and I were trying to figure out.

I turned to Cyrus, he was glancing at me.  So proud, so supportive.  I was honestly shocked.  Here I was putting all the pressure on him, and he looked proud of me?

“Well, he didn’t really come out, exactly.  He didn't say the words out loud," I chuckled, awkwardly, trying to make this conversation feel less traumatizing than it was, glancing at him, "we just sort of looked at each other and knew what the other was saying.”  I paused, feeling nervous, wringing my hands in my lap, “But uh…I guess I just wanted to say…um…I’m…"  I felt my chest tighten, as I tried to let it out, "sort of…we sort of...came out to each other last night.”

The table got eerily quiet.  I couldn’t look at them.

But then Buffy reached across the table to extend a hand towards me.

She had nothing to grab, as my hands were still wringing in my lap, but I looked up at the sight of her hands moving towards me.

She was smiling, “Thanks for trusting us, too.  That's awesome.  That's awesome that you have each other to talk to about it.”

“Just to quash the burning question here, we’re not together."  Cyrus immediately interjected, sensing that this was where this was going, "The only news here is…well TJ.”

Buffy frowned at that, “Oh.”

But I did consider how it looked from their point of view.  Imagine working up the nerve to come out to your crush, find out they liked boys too, only to find out they didn’t like you specifically?

That would be my worst case nightmare.  That’s for sure.

“Wow,” I forced a smile, trying to break the tension I created, “I’ve never had so many people know the truth.  It feels like…freeing?”

Buffy ruined the mood immediately though, “And Kira?”

“Kira is gone, hopefully forever…but probably not…she’s…well she’s probably got some sort of revenge plot.”

Buffy was actually shocked, “What did you do to her?!”

I shrugged, “Not like her back.  That’s not exactly my fault though…I…"  I blushed, "can’t?”

Buffy cringed at that, “Well, I got your back TJ.  She's not allowed to come after you.”

“Thanks, Buffy.”

"So what you're saying is that this group is almost majority guys now," Jonah glanced between all of us, interrupting the sweet moment by looking sort of dissapointed, "And I'm the only one here that doesn't like boys?"

Buffy broke out in tears, "I'll make sure to bring Marty around more, just for you."

Chapter Text

I felt tortured the entire weekend.  I ended up spending pretty much all of it with Cyrus—the blissful awkward confusing time it was—but I couldn’t shake the thought that somehow the entire school already knew about us.

I’d know if they did, right?

The time spent with Cyrus was weird.  I mean, it was my fault we were in relationship limbo.

It helped that we spent most of those days with his friends as well, so I didn’t have to think about it.  But he held my hand, in secret, at least twice over the course of that time, and I couldn’t help but think that very soon my secret world was going to come crashing down.

I think Cyrus’ friends knew that I liked him.  I feel like it’s obvious.  But I can’t believe they didn’t try to intervene.

I could tell Buffy definitely had some sort of plan though.

She was suspiciously interested in me all of a sudden.  She even forced herself into a "study date" between me and Cyrus today.  But honestly, just having another person around; having people around that supported me—to be honest it was sort of the only thing I was looking forward to this week.

As my dad drove me to school on Monday morning, I couldn’t sit still.  My mind was whirling.  I didn’t feel ready.

I'd never be ready.

I was apparently shaking enough that it was noticeable to my dad—which was saying something since the drive to school was seriously only 5 minutes.

He looked at me warily, “You alright Teej?”

No.  I had no idea what I was walking into this week and I had no idea how to prep myself.

I kept telling myself that we only had like 3 weeks of school left, and thus 3 weeks to worry about things, but it really wasn’t helping.  I’d been saying that for months now—every time my life seemed to implode— but it only sort of numbed the anxiety.

But…I mean, let’s be real, anxiety seemed to be a real constant in my life nowadays.  I guess it was getting really noticeable because Cyrus started asking me oddly specific questions about my stress levels and my…well, constant antsy-ness.  Honestly, any day now, I half expected him to tell me to go to therapy.

Still, I couldn’t tell my dad why I was so nervous about today, so I lied.

“Got a real big math test coming up.” I offered, which I guess was true.  I did have one in two days that I was really nervous about—especially since it was supposed to be some sort of math placement test to determine which level I should be placed in, in high school—but that was so far behind on the things I was worried about at the moment.

“Just think of how far you’ve come,” he offered, forcing a smile, “things’ll work out, you’ve worked hard.”

Sometimes that didn’t feel like enough, honestly.  I didn’t feel like enough.  But considering everything else, I wasn’t particularly interested in the conversation.  I was about to walk into my life possibly imploding.  Again.

Thankfully, my dad didn’t press me.  He probably realized I didn’t want to talk.  Or maybe he just didn’t have anything to say.  I mean, did he ever?

We stayed quiet the two remaining minutes it took to get to the drop off spot.

I offered a small smile to him as I sprinted off, launching myself out of the car as soon as I could.

I don’t even think I told him goodbye.  Or I love you.

I just didn’t care though.

I marched over to our regular spot, the basketball courts.  Sometimes there were groups of people there, but for the most part, the corner court closest to the soccer field was almost always ours.

And if there was anything else I could absolutely rely on, it’s that everyone’s morning schedules were extremely predictable.

I’d have 5 minutes to myself.  To figure out what I wanted to say.  To figure out how much I wanted to tell them.

If I walked to the courts slow enough, in five minutes Lee would show up.

And Lee and I would have the entire court for a total of 15 minutes before other people started to show up, Eddie included.

We wouldn’t see Kira at all.  She was always running late.  I think we only saw her in the morning once, and that was very early into our friendship.

Before I knew it, it was 8:05, and I had 5 minutes to talk before…well I couldn’t.  I was so not ready.  But I had to.

I glanced to Eddie, who was dressed nicer than usual—and thus staring at us awkwardly from a nearby bench trying desperately not to sweat.

Lee, true to character, was only determined on one thing.  I watched him, mildly humored but mostly concerned as he attempted far too many lay-ups.

After a long anxious minute of holding my breath, I finally mumbled, “So, uh…it might affect lunch, but Kira’s sort of mad at me.”

“I know,” Eddie groaned in response, almost immediately “She told me.”

Lee didn’t seem to know what I was talking about, as evidenced by his confused glance at Eddie.  Evidently she only talked to Eddie about it.  She probably didn’t say anything specifically, if that was the case.  I’m shocked she said anything at all though.

“What’d she say?”

He shrugged, “Just that you were fighting.  Nothing specific.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Well she also said you were a manipulative selfish bastard—and some other words I’m not allowed to say at home,” I chuckled, it was honestly so pure how Eddie refused to cuss, “but those sounded like drama starting words.”

I rolled my eyes, “Look, I know she’s gonna’ twist this somehow.  So I’ll say what I’m gonna’ say and…" I paused, confused at my own sudden confidence.  Honestly, I think I just wanted to get this over with, "whatever happens after-words…at least I got in front of it.”

They looked at me curiously.

“It’s…sort of complicated but basically she realized I don’t like like her.  She got pretty mad.  But I never led her on, ‘cause I never really thought of her like that.”

“Well we could have told her that.” Lee scoffed, “You look at her like she’s got like horns on her head or something.”

“Really?” Eddie interjected, “I thought he liked her.”

Lee rolled his eyes at Eddie.

“Anyways, I like someone else." I swallowed, "And honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if she decided she was gonna’ tell them today just to embarrass me.”

Lee’s response was immediate, “Yeah, no.  I can definitely see Kira doing that.”

Of course she would.  She was the queen of leverage, and this was the only way I saw her getting that back.

Eddie considered this, “But wouldn’t that backfire if this mystery crush actually likes you back?” He turned to me, fascinated, “Bro, why didn’t you tell us you like someone?”

Well first off, they’d probably be super obvious about it, best case.

Worst case…

I let out a long sigh, my heart immediately starting to race.  I mean, these coming outs are starting to get easier—and I didn’t really have like history with these guys like I did with my old friends so it was somehow less scary—but it still felt like, all the breath left my lungs, gut-wrenchingly, terrifying.

But we had only a few minutes before the bell rang and if I didn’t get ahead of this, I’d have to deal with it with Kira around.

“Well uh…Kira’s probably gonna’ say something to you…indirectly, directly…don’t know.  But she will.  But uh…the person I kind of like, it’s um…uh…”

Almost a whisper, Lee let out this sigh of realization, “You like Cyrus?”

Eddie processed it a little bit longer than Lee did.  His face contorting as he attempted the mental gymnastics.  Finally, the only word he could mutter was, “Boy?” It clicked, “Oohh.”

Well that was frustratingly easy.  And not in a good way.  I felt like I wanted to shrink and hide.  I couldn't speak.  I was honestly horrified.  Was I that obvious?

“How’d…you…?”

Lee started to approach me, looking hesitant, “I mean, is it?”

I swallowed, the words barely escaping my lips at an audible volume, “Yeah.” I blushed, “But…how?”

Lee nodded at this, trying to process, evidently, “I don’t know?  I think I just…had a sense.  You used to talk about him a lot.  And just, it sounded like some sort of attention love triangle almost, all the drama with you three.”  He frowned, “And yeah, maybe Kira saying stuff made me suspicious.  But I don't know...I probably would have figured it out eventually.  We're friends.”

I glanced between them, sweating, “And?”

Lee shrugged, “What?”

“What?” Eddie looked at Lee, in disbelief, “He’s gay!”

There we go.  That was the reaction I was expecting.  And thank god nobody was near the courts this morning because Eddie definitely said that way too loud.

“It’s not…I don’t like you guys like that, by the way,” I blushed, “No offense.  But…do you...thoughts?”

I don’t know why I was doing this.  Why I needed to know how they felt about it.

Lee looked at me like I was stupid, “What about it?”

Eddie glanced to Lee, like he was seeking guidance on how to feel about it or something before turning to me, “Just don’t like flirt with me.” Eddie offered, sounding genuine, and more focused on other things, “I mean, sounds like you have something going with Cyrus…he’s gay too right?”

I almost literally facepalmed.  I absolutely hated it.  He existed and had that persona hanging over him.  It wasn’t fair.  It wasn’t fair that I didn’t, but he did.

I shrugged, “I don’t…we haven’t really talked about it.”

“Well you’d have too soon, yeah?" Eddie interrupted, "If Kira’s gonna’ tell him?”

“Do you not realize how crappy that is though?”  Lee scoffed, sounding annoyed, “Telling someone’s crush about them, and especially like…if Cyrus doesn’t like guys?  That could like ruin their friendship.  You don’t do that.”

There was no humanly possible way a 7^th grader was this mature and thoughtful.

Evidently Eddie thought the same because we both looked at Lee like he was insane.

Lee held up his hand to us, before bringing his hand to his forehead in disbelief at himself, “God, I spend too much time with my older sisters.  I think I’m starting to sound like them.”  He paused in order to approach me and put a hand on my shoulder, “Anyways, I don’t know if you have people to talk to but uh…if you ever need to talk to grown ups about stuff, I’m sure my dad’s would listen.”

My jaw dropped, “Dads?”

Lee had gay parents?  And here I was sweating things.

“Yeah?” Lee chuckled, because apparently it was obvious.  Even Eddie was nodding, “Did you really not know I had two dads?  Like since birth sort of thing.”

Well, no.  But I guess I didn’t really know them very well.  I never really hung out with them outside of like school.

“Yeah, to be honest sometimes Kira said things that sort of rubbed me the wrong way, but I could never tell if she was being actually hateful or ignorant,” he sighed, “but I know I only picked up on it ‘cause I’m just naturally more aware of stuff like that.  People always seem to have opinions that I have two dads...so I...I get it.”

He looked resolute as he continued, “If she outs you to your crush, I’m all for dropping her, no hesitation.  She already like sort of outed you to us, in a way.  So that’s enough for me, honestly.  She’s just way too much drama.  And energy.”

Okay, now I felt sort of bad.  But I’d honestly never seen Lee so serious.

Eddie shrugged, “Yeah I kind of only tolerated her because I thought you liked her, so…yeah.”

I cringed, “Maybe we should just talk to her first.”

Lee shrugged at that, walking over to his bag after checking his watch.  It must be almost class time.  “Well, after that excitement, I don’t know how first period math is gonna’ top that!”

“What time is your mom supposed to be home?”  Cyrus sounded concerned.  I don’t know why, it’s not like he’d never studied at my house before.  And it’s not like we’d never been home alone before.

I guess now was different though.  Him being like my sort of boyfriend and all.

Honestly I was thankful Buffy “decided” to tag along.  It took the sheer anxiety of trying to figure us out, and put it somewhere I could ignore for at least a few more hours.

Cyrus also sounded sincerely sorry that Buffy tagged along, but she made it pretty clear she really wanted to study with Cyrus and didn’t appreciate that he dropped pre-formulated plans with her to study with me.  He kept apologizing that she invited herself, but honestly, it was just nice having her really try to be friendly with me.  Plus, like, she’d decided she was inviting herself yesterday, so I had a whole day to accept her presence.

I shrugged at Cyrus, finally answering his question as we walked up to the driveway of my house and up to the front door, “I don’t know, like 9?  She’s got a bunch of Senior Recitals she has to accompany all month.”

“Are you like, home alone a lot?”  Buffy almost whispered, sounding hesitant.

“Uh…kinda’ yeah,” I forced a smile, unlocking the door and slowly making my way through to the living room, “My dad works in Midtown so he usually gets back around 7, he’s usually pretty tired.  And my mom always has some gig she has to work, so we never know when she’ll be around.  And my sister’s involved in a bunch of after school clubs.  So…yeah, I’m home alone most of the time when it’s not like basketball season.”

“My house felt empty too, sometimes,” Buffy offered, “When my mom was deployed and my dad was still at work.  I usually just went to Andi’s house.  I…I’m sure she wouldn’t mind…you’re always free to hang out with us if you don’t want to be in an empty house all the time.”

I was touched.  Honestly.  She actually genuinely did care.  And that would be nice actually.  After I stopped being friends with Reed, it felt like I spent more and more days alone in this house.

It was encouraging, getting back to feeling like I had a full social group again.

Because, truthfully, I think that's why I latched onto Eddie and Lee so hard—they gave me a regular excuse after school to be out of the house.

I smiled at her, unsure of what to say.  Eventually I settled on an awkward nod and a quiet, “Thanks.”

“And thanks for letting us do homework here.” Buffy smiled.

I smirked at her as I led them towards the kitchen.  She was quick to find herself a chair at the end of the table.  She’d barely gotten herself comfortable when I coughed, “You know, my mom has a strict no girls in the house when an adult’s not home rule.  She’s gonna’ kill me if she finds out you’re here.”

“Well…it’s not really the girls we have to worry about, is it?” She retorted, with such glaring smugness I was completely thrown off.  I turned red.

Okay, we were definitely not close enough that she was allowed to do that.

“I…I never said I was gay,” I started to blush, turning towards Cyrus, stuttering, “Did you…tell her I…”

“I…no!  I would never!” He mumbled, looking apologetic, desperate, and nervous, “She uh…she asked but I…I didn’t really…”

I glared at Buffy, “Are we friends enough for you to make that joke?”

She shrugged, “Well, you did come out to me, so…you’re gonna have to accept that I’m gonna’ make fun of you.  Not for being gay obviously, just like…more for existing?  It’s a part of the territory of being my friend.”

I sighed, already accepting defeat and my inevitable future, “Doesn’t matter anyways, I guess.”  I glared at her in retort, “‘Cause now I can make fun of you too.”

She shrugged, “Oh please, you can’t match my witty banter.”

“Seriously though.  Please don’t say anything to anyone.”  I felt nervous all of a sudden, “My parents don’t even know.”

She considered this, before changing the subject, “How was your day, by the way?  Did Kira say anything?”

Lunch was sort of wild.  Honestly.

We deliberately hid from her during break, trying to game plan how lunch would go.  She ended up making some excuse about how she had homework to work on, after she couldn’t find us during break, and once she sat with us during lunch, things escalated pretty quickly.

“It was…a lot?  I uh…I came out to Lee and Eddie before school…’cause I felt like I had to.  And Lee was pretty mad the more he realized that I felt pressured to say something just so I’d say it before Kira.”

“And how’d they take it?  Lee sounds supportive.”  Cyrus sounded absolutely intrigued.

“Like I worried for nothing.  I guess Lee has two dad’s—didn’t know that before today—so he’s actually been texting me all day.  He wants me to meet them.  And now that he realizes I’m not out, he’s uh…been really supportive, sending me links to all these support groups and websites and stuff.  And Eddie, well…he doesn’t really care.”

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to say something.” Cyrus sighed.

“It worked out good though.  By the time Kira sat with us during lunch they pretty much confronted her the second she sat down, and she started acting like she didn’t know what she was doing.  I didn’t say anything the whole time, but after like 10 minutes of them saying they supported me and she needed to back off or we’d stop hanging out with her, she looked at me and all she could say was that she was ‘happy I found support’ but you could tell she didn’t mean it.  She walked away after that. So I guess Kira officially knows I’m LGBT now…and I guess anyone who was eavesdropping during lunch.”

“That’s so awesome your friends have your back like that.” Cyrus beamed, looking to Buffy lovingly.

“Yeah.  Maybe it was good that my life fell apart with Reed and them.  I wouldn’t have found Eddie and Lee.”

“And you have all of us now, too.”  Buffy offered.

Cyrus, ever the human to go straight for the jugular, nearly whispered, “Do you think things would have been different if you had stayed friends with them?  Would they have supported you?”

I sighed, “I think…Reed thought maybe…” I shook my head, “But I don’t know if they really would have actually supported me.  Maybe just pretend like I wasn't.  They’d probably be wierded out and slowly distance themselves from me until they ditch me completely.  I don't know.  I guess it would depend on how Reed felt about it.  They'd follow him.”

“So it sounds like your parents don’t know about you then?”

I shook my head, “My sister does. But no…I don’t…know…how.”

“Well it took Cyrus here a whole year, and he technically only came out to one parent.”

“Todd knows,” Cyrus blushed, “He won’t say it out loud, but he knows.  My mom definitely told him.”  He turned towards Buffy, sounding annoyed, “You know he suddenly put up a rainbow flag in his office?”

“Are you really upset that their being supportive, Cyrus?”

“No!” Cyrus backtracked, “It’s just like…embarrassing?  They’re embarrassing.  They find my crushes out and they’re going to embarrass me.”

“So…go to your house, you’re saying?”  I don’t know where that came from, and I can’t believe I was stupid enough to say it in front of Buffy, but I did, and Cyrus turned very red.

He glared at me, weakly offering a, “Ha ha, TJ.”

“Anyways,” I coughed, trying to change the subject, “I’m going to try to start this homework.”

“Oh!  Can I use the restroom first?”

I gave him an odd look, “You don’t need to ask for permission, Cy.  You can just like…go?”

With little else, he was sprinting down the hallway.

And Buffy wasted no time.  The moment he was out of earshot, she was hounding me.

“So…you definitely like Cyrus, right?”

I blushed.

“Uh…”

“C’mon dude, I’ve known since like the Shiva."  She looked almost desperate, like she'd actually been holding in the question since the Shiva, "Admit it to me, at least.”

I couldn’t speak.  My mouth felt dry.

“You seriously didn’t say anything when you came out to him?  You look at him like…”

“Buffy…”

“TJ…”

I groaned at her.  Not saying anything for several seconds before setting a steely gaze at her, “Fine.  Yes.”

Her response was immediate, “So ask him out!”

“I…it’s…I can’t.  I…it’s…I…”

Her smiled dropped, she suddenly got quiet, "Does he know you like him?"

I swallowed. Feeling rushed only because I didn't want Cyrus to overhear us.  Hesitantly, I nodded.

Her eyes widened, "Are you two like...dating in secret right now?!"

"No...no," I stuttered, trying to keep my voice low, "it's...it's complicated.  We're...we're sort of...I...I'm not ready.  And I...guess I want time to figure it out...and we can't really do that if you guys are looking at us like we're a thing.  Too much pressure."

Her smile dropped at that, "No...you're probably right.  We would."  She paused, before her lips upturning slightly, "But I can't be at least be a little excited about Cyrus' first sort of boyfriend?"

I couldn't help but be self-conscious considering our history, "And you're okay with that being me?"

She set a hand on my arm, "TJ, you're a good guy.  I couldn't pick anybody better for Cyrus.  You two are really sweet together."

"Do you...think he's dissapointed that I'm not ready?  I...I'm definitely not ready for other people to know.  About me...or us."

"I think Cyrus understands more than you give him credit for," she chuckled, "Just because he's probably really excited, doesn't mean he's not scared too."

"Okay, time for homework!  You ready Teej?"

I jumped from Buffy.  Frozen.

"Why do you two look like you're planning something?"

"I told her about the time you made the horrible apple coconut muffin."

Cyrus looked affronted at this, "Excuse me,  your dad said experimentation was the best way to find the best flavors."

Buffy turned her head to him, "Is that why you were in that weird PB & J combination mood two weeks ago?"

"Do you doubt my chef skills?"

Buffy turned to me, rolling her eyes "Well, know I know why he started watching those baking shows.  What did you get him started on?" 

I snickered at that.  This was nice.  The jokes.  The immediate comfort with Buffy.  Maybe moving forward, figuring myself out wouldn't be as impossible as it used to feel.

Maybe high school wasn't going to be scary.  Not with them around.

Chapter Text

“This is gonna’ be so fun,” Cyrus beamed as a large collection of us entered the backyard to his house.

I don’t know what I expected, but I wasn’t really expecting two really big tents.

I mean, I knew he said this would be a movie night/sleepover situation to celebrate the end of middle school—but did I forget who Cyrus was?  Was I really shocked at how above and beyond he went?  I should have known, he'd been hyping it up for days at this point.

Still, this week was exciting all the same.  Middle school was over.  My personal hell could finally start to feel like something I could actively leave behind.

I was a high schooler now?

Not that I really should be complaining.  I mean, the last 3 weeks have been sort of great.  Lee, Eddie, and I started to get really close after I came out to them.  We even stayed the night at each others houses.  It was really nice finally feeling like I was legitimate friends with the two of them.

For being my emergency friends in my moments of loneliness, I have to say, I lucked out with them.  I don't think I'd be able to do high school without them.

It'd have to wait at least a year though, with Lee a year younger than us.  But I had no doubt he'd do amazing as Captain next year.

Beyond my small friend group, it was equally relieving feeling absolutely overwhelmed with friendship and support by Cyrus' friends.

It was even nice getting to know the extended members of the group:  Amber—the now high school junior who pretty much adopted me as a younger brother of sorts almost immediately—and Marty, who I immediately bonded with over our love of competition.

Buffy—who was equally competitive and as into sports as we were—wasn't overjoyed over my connection to her new boyfriend; and she was especially not humored by the fact that the two of us were caught up in some sort of contest pretty much any moment we were in the same room—but it was comforting to feel like I had some sort of home amongst Cyrus' group.

And as the 7 of us stared out in awe at the legitimately impressive camping set up set before us, it was Amber that broke our silence.

I could hear her squealing behind us, “Girls call the big tent!”

Cyrus cringed at that, trying his best not to offend anyone, “Well…actually there are more boys…and we can’t share with the girls so…you guys sort of have to get the smaller one.”

Buffy crossed her arms at her chest, “This isn’t fair.”

Cyrus looked slightly irritated at this, “It is actually.  Logistically it makes the most sense.”  He paused, trying to be reasonable, “And it’s not like you can be in the same tent as your boyfriend.”

Annoyed, and evidently not realizing what she was saying, she mumbled under her breath, “Well neither should you.”

Cyrus immediately blushed a shade of red I’d never seen on him.  I could tell he wanted to say something but what could he say?

I mean, it’s not like Cyrus being gay was a secret amongst the group at this point.  Everyone knew, even Marty.

But Cyrus liking me?  Or me liking him?  It was…complicated.  I mean, Buffy definitely knew I liked him.  And Jonah and Andi knew I was gay but not that I liked him.  I’m pretty sure Amber knew about me, even though I never said anything to her.  I mean, she knew that Cyrus liked me; and in the like 3 times I interacted with her she always looked at the two of us with this like knowing look in her eye.  Marty, as far as I knew, didn’t know anything about me.

I didn’t have it in me to be embarrassed by Buffy’s accidental accusation.  I could easily pretend I didn’t know what she was talking about.  It wasn’t aimed at me.  But Cyrus.  He sort of just stared at her, looking genuinely upset.

“Okay,” Amber interrupted, reaching for my arm before immediately pulling me towards her, “Well Cyrus put me in charge of helping with snacks, and TJ I’ve heard you make a mean pastry.”  She glanced around, “And…well honestly I need an extra person to help carry stuff, so you’ve been nominated Marty.”

Marty looked extremely caught off guard.  I mean, I didn't blame him.  I don't think he knew Amber any better than I did.  “Me?”

Amber beamed as she glanced between us, “It’ll be fun.”

Reluctantly, the two of us followed Amber to Cyrus’ parents’ kitchen.  A decent collection of grocery bags were sitting on the counter, just waiting to be unloaded.

“Okay, so Cyrus told me there’s a bunch of frozen pizza’s in the freezer to cook for dinner.”  She glanced around, “But honestly I want to make the cookies right now.  Can you pull out the cookie mixes, TJ?”

I nodded at her, just to respond.  Not really able to say anything while I imagined these horrible visions of Cyrus crying out of frustration and Buffy actually apologizing.

“So, no one else noticed Cyrus looked angry for like the first time ever?” Marty offered, when the silence in the room lasted for way too long.

Amber rolled her eyes at him, “Of course we noticed.  But they didn’t need us around.  We’re giving them space.”

“I don’t…get it though."  Marty scoffed, as if the situation was so simple, "Why’d he get so angry?”

Amber looked to me, looking apologetic for a moment before she returned her attention to Marty, “She embarrassed him in front of his crush.  You know he likes TJ, right?”  She paused, her attention flitting to me, “You knew he liked you, right?”

I nodded, sighing, “No…I knew-know.”

“Oh," he paused, looking embarassed, "I thought you two were like...already together."

Considering I'd never come out to him, I suddenly felt very called out, "What?"

"So you're...you two aren't," he started to get quiet, feeling embarassed, "Oh.  I just thought you were being...private."

"You thought we were dating?!"

Marty was looking pretty uncomfortable now, "Did I read that all like really wrong?  You...you like him though right?  Or am I reading that really wrong too."  He started to pace, "Dude, I'm sorry.  I didn't—"

I'm sure it was because I trusted Cyrus' friend group.  And...well that they all sort of knew anyways, but I didn't even feel embarassed at the idea of someone I barely knew assuming I liked Cyrus.

Maybe one day I'd actually be able to do this?  Be out.  In public.

I forced a smile, trying to figure out how to be honest without making it all feel like a big deal, "Yeah...I like him."

Amber beamed from her spot, "I knew it!"  She paused, "You like him.  He likes you.  You know he likes you—"

Marty interrupted her, "You two aren't dating?"

Amber immediately leaned forward, “Oh thank god someone else saw it too, it was killing me.  But like, I couldn't ask, you know?  'Cause like you were the wild card, and you can't just ask a boy if he likes boys.”

I snapped at them, “Am I allowed no secrets in this friend group?!”

She shook her head, “Oh we’re great with secrets.  We’re just also great detectives so…nothing stays a secret for long ‘cause we’ll figure it out anyways.”

“It’s…we’re just friends okay."  I blushed, feeling as cornered as I did with Buffy nearly a month ago, "We’re happy with just friends.  So…I’d appreciate it if you didn’t like…get in the middle.  It’s none of your business honestly.”

Amber scoffed at that, “It actually is.  ‘Cause you decided to have a crush on Cyrus.  But whatever…he made the decision to like you of all people.  So…what I’m saying is that I’m siding with him.  Always.”

I rolled my eyes at her, "We're figuring some stuff out on our own time, okay.  So please...please don't."

Amber didn't look pleased with this, but she was at least willing to move on.  If her quickly ordering Marty to do about 8 different things at once was any indication.

Marty was apparently not completely done with the situation.  And he must have realized the implications of two boys having a crush on each other being in the same tent, because out of nowhere, he grumbled, “I don’t see why we can’t all share one big tent anyways.  Those rules are dumb.  Or like, not even sleep in the tent.  We should just all sleep outside.  Out in nature, staring up at the stars.”

Amber's response was immediate and horrified, “Absolutely not."

I rolled my eyes at them.  Attempting to put my head down, busying myself with trying to make about 3 dozen cookies at once.

After what felt like only minutes, I looked up from my work in time to notice Cyrus, attempting to slither through his own house on his way to his upstairs room.

Unfortunately for him, he’s Cyrus, and immediately bumped into a table on his way towards the stairs.

I didn’t exactly need prompting, but Amber’s eyes ordering me to go talk to him definitely made my steps towards him a lot quicker.

I didn’t even think about it when I grabbed his hand and led him upstairs.

I ended up pulling him into the closest upstairs room I could find, which was his step-mom’s counseling office.

He immediately groaned, throwing himself onto a couch the moment I shut the door behind us, “I can’t believe she said that.”

“I mean, she’s sort of right,” I offered.

“She basically called you my crush in front of everybody." Cyrus sounded legitimately upset, and almost bitter, "In front of you!”

I rolled my eyes, “Are you seriously convinced that everyone doesn’t already know, Cy?”

He looked horrified at this, “What do you mean everyone already knows?”

“Everybody already knew that you liked me.  Half of them are convinced I like you back—”

“But now everyone knows you know, I like you.”  He blushed.

I chuckled at that, approaching him.  I carefully sat on the ottoman right in front of his chair, reaching for his hand, “And that’s a bad thing?”

He blushed, his eyes avoiding me, “Well, no.  But you…you said—”

“That was almost a month ago.”  I offered, trying to bring him some peace, “I don’t know…I guess I just make it so obvious, it’s sort of dumb pretending.  It’s not like we’re just friends, you know?”

He glanced up at me, “What are you saying?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know.  Maybe that I’m okay with the group knowing.”  I smiled at him, feeling oddly peaceful, “We had a great few weeks together, but I…I wasn’t super fair to you because you couldn’t share that with your friends.” I chuckled, “Everyone’s pretty much on the verge of getting very involved anyways.  So…maybe we tell them we’re talking?  At this point, it’s the only way we’re gonna get space.”

Cyrus looked very eager at the idea, “Really?”

I continued to play with his palm, “Cyrus Goodman.  Will you be my boyfriend?  My not secret—at least to our friends—one?”

Cyrus was absolutely beaming, “Are you serious?”

“Yes? No?”

“Yes!  Obviously, you goof!  I get to call you my boyfriend for real?  To Buffy and Andi?!”

I chuckled, “Yes.”

He leapt into my arms.  Engulfing me in the world’s biggest bear hug.  The force of it almost threw me off the ottoman.

I held him there for what felt like five minutes before I commented, reminding him of the situation that led to all of this in the first place, “You know Buffy wouldn’t have said that in any other environment.  She said it among friends.  Yes, she was wrong for saying it knowing that not everyone was fully aware of the situation, but she didn't mean to.  She was just annoyed at the double standard," I smirked, continuing, "admit it though, you were only embarrassed because she was right.”

“She basically called you my boyfriend to everybody else.  She had no basis…or right.”

I cringed at that, “Well…I mean…she sort of had an idea that we were talking.  So she had some basis.”

“You told her?" He pulled away from me, "And neither of you told me?!”

“You would have freaked out if you knew,” I offered, “But yeah, she messed up for saying it the way she did…but you don’t think Andi and Buffy are constantly scheming to get us together?  Or that Amber clearly read through the both of us pretty much immediately.  The only wild card was Jonah and Marty…and well Jonah doesn’t pick up on anything.  And Marty?  Well I figured he somehow at some point would get schemed into things because of Buffy.  Pretty much everyone already knew.  We just didn’t know that they knew.”

He crossed his arms at his chest as he began to stand, and walk away from me, “Am I not allowed my secret boyfriend, really?”

I rolled my eyes, “The only reason we were secret was because I wasn’t ready.  But that was sort of stupid considering how nosy your friends are.”  I paused, chuckling, “I…guess I don’t care that they know?  And honestly I really just want to be your boyfriend?  So what I’m saying is that I want to hold your hand in front of actual human beings.  ‘Cause the being sneaky is fun and all, but lying to everybody isn’t fun.  It’s exhausting honestly.”

“I want to be excited that you asked me to be your boyfriend, but I’m still sort of annoyed you’re siding with Buffy on this.”

“Well, should I be in the same tent as you? The rules are different for us,” I paused, “And…honestly we haven’t had a sleepover since we started talking, so I don’t know if it’s the best thing ever.”

“What, like we’re gonna’ make out in the middle of the night or something?  That’s ridiculous."  He dug his arms even deeper into his chest, in petulance, "We haven’t even kissed yet.”

I glared at him for that.

I mean that was fair, I guess, but low blow.

“Let’s just…maybe I’ll do what Marty was talking about and camp outside.  To be honest, maybe I’m not ready for a sleepover with my boyfriend.  And…if Buffy can’t be in the same tent as Marty, I don’t think we should be either.”

All it took was Cyrus and I walking downstairs, hands intertwined, for pretty much everyone to horde us.

Andi and Buffy immediately attacked the both of us with hugs.  Which was almost as immediately followed by the two of them pulling me aside to absolutely grill me.

Forget me having to please all four of Cyrus’ parents, the real people to win over were always Buffy and Andi.

I heard Amber and Cyrus excitedly gossiping from the kitchen, but by the sound of his periodic anxious exclamations I could sense he'd been incredibly on edge by the idea of his “new” boyfriend being grilled by his best friends.

The night went well.

Marty and I decided to be outdoorsy, by staying out on the lawn, with nothing but our sleeping bags.

Thankfully it was a comfortable May evening, so we weren’t freezing.

Buffy managed to strong arm the remaining boys out of the big tent, so the girls ended up in the big tent, pretty much giggling the whole night.

Cyrus and Jonah ended up in the smaller tent—the latter of which refused to leave the tent for any reason because of “past events” that happened in the backyard that traumatized him.

Something about an animal, I think?  Jonah wouldn’t say.

In any case, being the ultra-cool now "high schoolers" we were, we all pretty much knocked out by midnight.

And all in all, the night was sort of perfect.

I thought a lot about what Cyrus had been saying all month—every time I felt guilty that I'd taken things so slow with him.  I could hear him saying that we had every right to take our time.  That things were different for us than they were for Buffy and Marty.  That we had to go at our pace and not others.  And most importantly, that we only had to say anything to people when we were ready.

On the other hand, I hated lying to my parents.  I hated that I couldn’t talk to them.  And I hated having to be on such high alert whenever Cyrus came over because I honestly couldn’t help myself.  He was my boyfriend, for real this time, and it was as exciting as it was liberating.

I'm just thankful that middle school is over and that it's summer break so that Cyrus and I can be the lovesick messes we are, because otherwise I think everyone in Shadyside would have already caught on to the very rare gay middle school couple parading down Main Street.

I mean, it's not like I held his hand in public—I mean we decided to not go public public, but I also felt like I was being really obvious.  It's a miracle people don't already know.  I barely even hide anymore how much I like him.

Ugh, high school was going to be interesting.  At some point Cyrus and I would need to talk about it.

Just yesterday Cyrus told me he finally sat all 4 of his parents down to come out to them.  Well, he came out to them one by one over the course of a week.  And he definitley didn't tell him about his new boyfriend.  But as of yesterday, he'd finally told the last of his parents.

They'd all taken it well apparently.  He'd been in good spirits.

When I mentioned I felt guilty that I hadn't said anything to my parents yet, when he was brave enough to tell 4, Cyrus proceeded to give me a 20 minute speech about how I should never feel pressured to come out.  And how I needed to do things on my own time and comfort.

I mean sure, he was right.  But that didn't stop me feeling like I now needed to.

It was only a matter of one slip up at this point before my parents picked up that I was actively bringing a boyfriend into the house and hanging out with him unsupervised.

How Billie didn't already know we were together, and how I didn't tell her, was nothing short of a miracle.

I considered all this about a week after I asked Cyrus to be my boyfriend. 

It was a Sunday night.  And Sunday’s were special for us because it was really the only day that we all could eat dinner at the same time.

I looked at Billie, feeling guilty.  I'd finally told her that Cyrus and I held hands at the party, but I hadn’t really told her much past then.  I sort of let her believe that nothing came out of it.

I was thankful that she didn’t push me.  Truthfully, I hadn't been ready to talk about it with her up until maybe last week.

And now?  Now it just felt awkward to talk about, it being so long.

“Your friend,” my mom started, interrupting the silence and my thoughts, “Cyrus?”

I felt myself freeze; I sort of stared at her mid-bite, blushing.  Why was I feeling caught?  All she said was his name. “Huh?”

“I feel like he’s here almost every day now,” she noted, a sort of mischievous smirk on her face, “do we need to start paying him, as your tutor?”

Oh, that's where she was going with this.

I let myself breath for a second.

“No…no.  I mean we do homework together, yeah.  But he’s not my tutor,” I began to mumble, attempting to sip my water as slowly as possible so that I could stay out of the conversation as long as humanly possible.

“I like him,” she smiled, looking sort of proud I found such a good friend, “He’s very polite.  Very sweet.”

Billie interjected, glaring at me for being coy, “I think so too.  He’s probably like my favorite person TJ has ever brought over.”

“You know,” my mom paused, “I like having him around you.”

Without thinking I whispered, “I do too.”

My mom paused for a moment, considering her words before she continued.  Okay, she definitely had an agenda here. “You know.  Ever since…well last year really, we’ve noticed this real change in you.” She smiled, glancing over at my dad, “I’m so proud of the young man you’re turning into.”  She paused again, “And, I like who you are when you’re around Cyrus.  I’ve never seen you so happy.”

I’m fairly certain my ears were turning red if they weren't there already.  I couldn’t breathe. 

I’m not sure what she was saying, but I certainly wasn’t ready to hear whatever she had to say.

She smiled at me, her tone cautious, “Are you happy, TJ?”

That wasn’t really what I was expecting, but I let out a momentary breath as I nodded.  I couldn’t look at her.  I felt so nervous, I’m sure I would cry if I made eye contact with her.

“TJ…”

Breathless, and with a burning throat, I shakily whispered, “Yeah, mom?”

She knew.  She knew somehow.

“I…" she paused, trying to find her phrasing, "do you like being around Cyrus?”

I didn’t know how to respond to that.  I’m not even sure what she meant.  But at the same time, I think she was trying to give me the opportunity to come out on my own terms.

But, as I opened my mouth, I couldn’t find those words.  Instead, I just looked at her, nodding, a wave of emotion hitting me all at once.

“Does uh…” she considered her words, “does Cyrus like…being around you?”

This one felt a little easier.  I still held my breath, but I nodded again.

She smiled at me, this small proud little smile, “Is…there a special person in your life now?”

I swallowed.  I couldn’t breathe, my stomach in absolute knots as I nodded.

“And it’s Cyrus?”

I nodded.

It was Billie who slammed her hands down on the table, honestly overeager, "I knew it!"

My mom glared at her for a moment, before turning her complete attention to me.  As she glanced at me, her tone stayed calm, curious, but very controlled, “How long, sweetie?”

I shook my head, forcing words to come out, “Not long.  Maybe a month…but really only like a week officially.”

My mom smiled at that, looking at me with these soft eyes, not saying anything for what felt like forever before she let out a soft chuckle, “Thank you for being honest with me sweetie.” She paused, before suddenly looking stern, “You know that means we’re going to have to lay down some ground rules for you two when he’s over now?  No more homework in your room with the door closed, that’s for sure.”

I was blushing, but this time for different reasons, “Mom!”

“What?  I don’t let boys into your sister’s room, I have to be fair.”

“But…but…we haven’t even…kissed or anything.  It’s not fair,” I paused, “He’s my best friend too.”

“Aw, how romantic,” Billie teased.  She was enjoying this. “Also, low key jealous.  I want a boyfriend that’s also a best friend.”

“Trust me,” my mom warned, “You’ll appreciate my rules one day.  They’re about protecting your heart as much as they are protecting my sanity.”

It was then that I noticed my dad.  He was poking at his plate.  Quiet.

He let out a cough, and stood from his seat.  Without even really looking at me, he headed towards the dishwasher, setting down his dirty plate in the machine.

We all sort of stared at him in confusion.  I knew my dad, was quiet.  But whatever my dad was up to, he was determined to ignore us all.

He pulled a baking sheet out of the pantry.  And several ingredients for what I assumed was for cookies.

Baking goods were his stress reliever.

Crap, this was bad.  He was so in shock, he didn’t even have it in me to tell me he was disappointed in me.

He stared at the ingredients for a moment before pulling out his phone and plugging it into our mini speaker.  He seemed to scroll forever, until he finally settled on a song.

This beautiful piano melody began to play.  I’d recognize that style anywhere.  My dad had it ingrained in my soul.  Not to mention, with me and my mom working on jazz music during our piano sessions the last 6 months, I couldn’t help but recognize it.  So in a way, my mom had it ingrained in my soul too.  Of course my father would play Thelonius Monk now of all times.

He always played Thelonius Monk when he wanted to get under my skin.  It was always like his petty way of punishing me.

He was annoyed with me, maybe even angry, he just didn’t know how to say it. 

I just wish I could place the song he picked.

That was until my sister let out this broken sigh, almost like she’d been holding her own breath to stop her own tears.  She shook her head, “Dad, I’m going to have to call you out here.  And maybe I’m partial to it because…you know Billie Holiday.  But her rendition is far superior.”

Okay, now they were just arguing jazz.  This was probably one of those songs that every jazz artist had done, in their time.  While I appreciated jazz, and certainly listened to it because it was a part of my genetics, my sister always was the jazz aficionado between the two of us.

Still, I couldn’t understand what they were arguing about, or why.

She immediately stood from her seat and ran to his phone, typing something in. She smiled at me, “I think this’ll get the message across a bit more clearly, Teej.”

The new rendition of the song my dad played sounded immediately more full, almost big band.  The soulful voice of Billie Holliday rang through the house.

“Someday he’ll come along, the man I love.”

That was it.  At the sound of the lyrics I understood.  He accepted me completely as I was, he was just accepting me in the most him version he could possibly think of.

Feeling this profound sense of relief, I immediately broke into tears.

"And he’ll be big and strong, the man I love. And when he comes my way, I’ll do my best to make him stay.”

Since my mom didn’t immediately make any moves to hug me, but I attempted to rise out of my seat.  I wasn't sure where I was going.  But I did need to stand.  And then the next line of the song hit.  I’d heard this song a dozen times before, but suddenly it took such a personal meaning.

“He’ll look at me and smile, I’ll understand.  Then in a little while, he’ll take my hand.”

At that I ran into my dad’s arms.  Sobbing.  I’d never felt so relieved, like this thousand pound weight had been taken off of my back.

I could breathe.

My family loved me, and accepted me.  And even if I still had a lot to figure out, and I didn’t know what high school would look like for me; for a moment it didn’t matter.

I had my family supporting me.

And I had an amazing guy that I got to call my boyfriend.

I clung tightly to my dad, just listening to his heart beat as he brushed through my hair, kissing the top of my head.  For the entirety he didn’t really say anything.  He just held me.

Finally, he whispered, “I love you, TJ.  Don’t think there’s anything you could do that’s going to change that.  Don’t ever feel like you can’t talk to us.  I'm sorry if you felt like you couldn't.”

“My turn!  My turn!” My mom jumped from her seat.  We broke from our hug, both turning towards her in confusion, realizing she was running towards my dad’s phone to play her own song. 

She looked hesitant for a moment, as she considered whatever she was about to play, “Hon…I gotta’ be honest…I kind of suspected you maybe had feelings for him like…months ago.  I love you sweetie, but you are so…you are a very expressive obvious human being.  It’s why you could never lie to us, how I always know when you’re upset…and well it’s going to get you in trouble when you get older probably,” she chuckled, “I just saw the way you looked at him when he was over last week.  I just sort of knew.” She gritted her teeth, faking discomfort for a moment, “Anyways, I found this song the other day—as one does when they google, how to be a supportive parent to an LGBT son— and I was kind of waiting for a moment exactly like this.”

I was honestly scared.  But also, why was something so ridiculous so completely on brand for her.

Of course she looked up 'how to be a supportive parent'.

Without much fanfare, she played her own song.  Not to be outdone by dad.

“When I was a young boy I was scared of growing up.  I didn’t know it then, but I was terrified of love.

Felt like I had to chose, but it was outta my control...

…tell my mother, I expected the worst.  I gathered all the courage in the world.

“She said, ‘I love you no matter what, I just want you to be happy and always be who you are’.  She wrapped her arms around me, said ‘don’t try to be what you’re not.  ‘Cause I love you no matter what’.

I was crying again.

This time I threw myself into my mom’s arms.

“Dammit, stop it.” I chuckled, trying to wipe the tears from my eyes, “I don’t want to cry anymore.”

She kissed the top of my head too, “We love you, TJ.  And we’re so ridiculously excited to see who you end up becoming.”

“Stop it,” I laughed, my sobs finally starting to slow.

She pulled away from my grip for a minute, that same sternness I usually expected from her, even in emotional moments like this, “Now…when are you going to introduce your boyfriend to us?”

Chapter Text

“Ugh, I wish I could be with you guys,” Lee groaned, rolling over on the floor dramatically, effectively tangling himself in his own blanket.

Honestly, he looked sort of adorable, wrapped up like a burrito, his glasses just barely holding on to his face.

I smiled at him.

This summer was like a dream in some ways.

Grant High had put on a couple basketball camps over the summer, one for "incoming future Grant players" (i.e. middle schoolers) and another for anyone who was planning on playing for Grant this year.

Both camps went well, and took up a majority of my summer.  At the middle school camp, I was one of like 2 standout players.  And at the high school camp I spent most of my time with the incoming seniors.  The best part?  I kept up with them.  I even felt like I almost became friends with them.

One of them even offered to be like a "mentor" to me once I got there; help me find classes, and invited me to his table.  I was honored, honestly.

It was nice feeling sort of protected by a team before I even got there.

Things were already different than Jefferson.

I already sort of decided one thing though.  I'd sit at Cyrus' table with his friends.

I mean, my friends.  They were my friends too now.  I'd damn near spent half of my summer with them when I wasn't with Lee and Eddie.

Well...mostly Buffy and the boys.  But I spent it around the others too.

Amber very quickly became a second sister to me.  We were pretty much always texting at this point.  And, I'm not really surprised I saw her like a sister, I mean her and Billie were pretty similar.  Like scary similar actually.  Right down to the passive aggressive anger and constant disappointment in me.  Not to mention, they both pretty much always saw through me.  I even brought Amber over to my house one time, so I could help her pick out some playlist for some dance project she was working on, and next thing I knew my sister had convinced her to join the drama department.  The two bonded quickly.  Honestly, it was terrifying.

And then Andi and I actually got along now.  We never really hung out alone, like I did with Buffy.  But we did actually speak to each other.  She pretty much didn't really try to talk to me until after Cyrus and I for-real starting dating, but pretty much all she needed was to taste some cookies I made at that End-of-School Year sleepover.  The next thing I knew she was almost constantly begging me to bake for her or to teach her some recipe.

4th of July was fun for that reason, I think.

We were all planning on watching the fireworks show from Andi's grandmother's house.  I'd come over a little early because Andi, Bex, and I were trying to figure out how to make Sugar Cookies look patriotic.  Which somehow ended up with Bex and I trying to make blueberry sugar cookies, which was something we all regretted.

I also ended up helping her with decorations.  That was nice.  We ended up talking for a whole hour about what felt like everything.  We bonded over music and musical parents.  She confided in me she was scared she wouldn't be able to make friends at SAVA and that her best friends would replace her, something she didn't even tell Buffy.  I told her I still didn't know if I was mature enough or ready to be a good boyfriend.  I told her that ever since Cyrus left, I feel like my anxiety I'd been dealing with for over a year now, was just getting worse.  I'd gotten better about being honest about it, but I'd also gotten better about pretending like I wasn't constantly a ball of nerves. It was sort of a vicious cycle.

And I mean still didn't talk much, but nowadays, I felt like when we did, there was this understanding between us.  We both had our things we didn't tell other people, but at least we'd told someone.  

And then Marty, Jonah, and I were pretty much constantly together.  The three of us were all pretty athletic so we spent most of our days just looking for places to hike or explore, or we were playing some sort of game.  Football, baseball, you name it.  Eddie and Lee joined us most days, and at some point in July I realized I finally fully replaced my old friend group.

There were 5 of us guys, or...at least 5 guys I called friends.  Five people I could rely on.  Five people I spent my days with.

And this time, these guys knew me, all of me.  They knew me and accepted me.  They knew me and loved me and supported me for the person I was.

It was scary, in some ways.  Having this sort of friendship, because it made me feel vulnerable.  And I don't know how many conversations I had with Cyrus, Lee, and Amber at this point about how vulnerability was a good thing.  And how vulnerability actually led to feeling safe.

But honestly, I'd hid myself and my emotions behind this brick wall of insecurity for so long, I still didn't know how to get around it.

I was broken from my  racing thoughts by Eddie teasing Lee, "Too bad your dads didn't have you a year earlier.  Test tube baby and everything, and they still couldn't have had you a year earlier?"

Lee glared at him.  He'd definitely explained the whole being born situation to us.  I still didn't get quite how complicated it was, but I knew that they had a very hard time adopting Lee's older twin sisters.  And even with Lee, one of his dad's was his bio-dad, but the other wasn't legally allowed to adopt him until he was like 7 because of some law in our home state.

The more I talked with Lee about the issue of how his dad's became parents, the more I understood why he was so supportive and sensitive to me.  He was angry at the world for being so hateful and complicated, and when I mentioned I still wasn't sure whether or not I wanted to be out in high school, he legitimately understood why.

It was the same reason sometimes he was afraid to tell people he had two dads.

People just got...weird.

But Eddie just casually saying, why couldn't Lee be born a year earlier...it wasn't even close to being that simple.  And I could see in Lee's eyes he was honestly hurt and trying not to yell at Eddie for being dumb.

I get why Eddie said it though.  It sucked that we'd have to leave Lee behind.  It sucked for Lee that he had to go through a whole year of middle school without us.

And today being the last day of summer, it was the last day we'd be together for a while.

And for Eddie, me, and the rest of Cyrus' friend group, tomorrow we'd wake up and be in high school.

Tomorrow I’d chose who to hang out with at lunch.  I’d be in a whole new environment.  I’d have to figure out how to deal with the whole, having a boyfriend thing.

“Cyrus comes back today, right?” Lee smiled at me, sounding so oddly proud.

It was weird, I was so used to the casual acceptance between the three of us, and definitely around Cyrus’ friends, that I was starting to feel normal.  Not different.

And honestly, it was going to make high school that much harder.  Knowing, that if I got to comfortable it wouldn’t bode well.

Still, it was nice getting to talk about my boyfriend so freely around my friends.

I blushed at Lee, “Yeah.”

“He went to where, again?”

“All of his parents are a part of this international committee thing that travels to various countries to help establish mental health stuff in rural areas.”

“How does that work with their patients though?” Lee offered, “Like I would guess that they don’t like not having access to their therapists.”

I shrugged at that.  I guess Lee put more thought into it than I had.  Then again, Lee was the smartest and most intuitive out of the three of us, so of course he'd consider this, “I never asked.  I don’t know.  It’s only like 2 months though.”

“2 months is a long time.  A lot can happen in 2 months.”

Yeah, it was sort of weird to think about.  We’d been together officially for almost 3 months now, 4 if you count our awkward sort-of stage. And pretty much a majority of it, Cyrus was in an entirely different country.

I mean, we still talked like everyday.

But it’s not like we were around each other.

And now we were about to start high school together.

“You gonna’ hang out with your boyfriend today?” Lee continued to tease.

I glanced over to Lee uncomfortably.  Trying to be humored, but honestly weirded out by his sudden interest, “Do you enjoy…me being gay?”

Lee shrugged, “Honestly I’m surrounded by so many queer people when I’m not at school, I almost feel more comfortable around that community?”  He paused, “Guess I’m excited my world’s are overlapping a little bit.  Is that weird?”

I shrugged.  I mean, it felt weird?

“A little bit?  And yeah, I’m supposed to meet up with his friends in a little bit, and then we’re all gonna’ have a welcome back hang out.”

“So, Cyrus thinks this is a surprise party for Andi?” I pressed, mildly frustrated that Buffy had coerced me into making paper cranes(something that was definitely Andi's thing). 

I’d been at it for like 20 minutes now and my hands were starting to cramp.  I think I even got a paper cut.

Buffy nodded at that, meticulously attempting to organize the overwhelming amount of snacks that lay sprawled out everywhere on Bex’s counter.

I continued, “But really the surprise party is for him?”

Buffy shrugged at that, “Well, it’s a welcome home and also last time together for all of us…party.”

“So why does Cyrus think it’s a surprise party for Andi?”

“Because Andi think’s it’s just a hang out.  But I guess...yeah in a way it's a goodbye party for her.  But it's mostly a reunion party for Cyrus.”

“I don’t see how this won’t backfire.  We’re in her apartment.”

Buffy shrugged again, “Because she won’t be home until way later.  She’s helping her mom at the store.”  Buffy paused, “Which…I don’t blame her, now that she’s getting paid.  First of us with a real job.”

I took offense to that, “I had a real job!”

“Half of which you used as an excuse to impress Cyrus.  Especially right before he left for Spain.”

I glared at her, “That doesn’t make it any less of a job.  I got paid and everything.”

“Anyways,” she rolled her eyes, apparently attempting to change the subject, “You have to be excited.  Cyrus is back.”

I mean, I was.  But I didn’t really feel like jumping-for-joy happy about it.  I felt nervous.  Happy he was back again.  But oddly just anxious.  My mind had been going a million miles for weeks now.

“So…” she paused, “Have you two talked about the whole…high school situation.”

I cringed, “That feels like an in-person conversation.”

“And what are you thinking?”

I let out a long sigh, “Trying to figure out if I’m ready to be that one gay basketball player at Grant.”

“How do you know you’re the only one?”  She quickly continued, “And why do you have to be the gay basketball player.  Why can’t you be TJ?”

“Why couldn’t you be a regular basketball player at Jefferson?  No you were the girl on the boy’s squad.  It’s not that easy, and you know it.”

She relented to that, “Fair.”

“I just…it took me a long time to get comfortable with myself.  And then with him.  And then with you guys." I swallowed, "And…now the whole school? It’s one thing being gay.  It’s another being in a relationship.”

She rolled her eyes at me, “Nobody’s saying you need to scream it down the hallways.”

“Yeah, but sometimes a kiss or something, you might as well be screaming it." I hesitated, "People get weird.”

“People don’t care as much as you think they do, dude.”  She paused, “How’s that going by the way?”

“What?”

She looked at me as if it was obvious.  “TJ…you’ve been acting weird all week.  Ever since you found out today was the day he was getting back.”

“And?”

She knew something.  She definitely did.  “You’re not nervous about anything?”

“I’m nervous about a lot of things.”

Accurate.  Always.

“But especially…”

“I don’t have to tell you everything, you know.” I grumbled at her, feeling cornered and oddly self-conscious for someone who didn't even know why I was supposed to be self-conscious.

“No." She chuckled, "But considering you still feel awkward talking to your actual friends about things…you tell me anyways.”

It was true.  As cool as Lee was about everything, it still felt weird talking with him about things.  And I definitely didn't tell Jonah, because that just felt weird talking about Cyrus with his best guy friend.

“So, you’re not nervous about Cyrus coming home?”

I glared at her, and held this gaze for nearly 5 seconds before I finally let out a groan, “Okay, fine.  I’m super nervous.  We haven’t talked about any of the big stuff and we’ve been together for like 3 months now."

She gazed at me with that all-knowing condesecending look of hers, "Was that so hard?"

"I hate you."

"Buffy?"  My voice broke, and I suddenly felt very nervous.  But I almost felt like I needed to tell her.

"Yeah, TJ?"

"I uh...Cy and I...we haven't exactly like..."

She looked at me both impatient and curious.

"We haven't..." I cringed, "Kissed yet."

Her jaw dropped, "Wait, seriously?"

I swallowed, "Well...I...it's..."

"You two are so touchy when you're together, you seriously haven't kissed?"

I glared at her, "Stop pretending that Cy hasn't already told you...or complained about it."

Her smile dropped, "Okay...well, he mentioned things were going sort of slow, still...but you know him, he never really talks about the big stuff.  I mean, yeah he mentioned that you two haven't exactly kissed yet but...I don't know, I guess I thought he meant like...more than a peck sort of kissing.  I didn't realize it was like...no kissing."

"Well uh...I haven't exactly kissed anybody before and every time I wanted to I got really nervous and then he left for Spain," I swallowed, "I guess also...sometimes I freak out about kissing another boy, which is really stupid because I know I'm gay and all the people that I care about know that I'm gay so I don't know why I'm so scared.  Like...Cy kissed his ex-girlfriend so quickly after dating, and you and Marty kissed like the second you got together..."

Buffy leaned close to me, setting a hand on my forearm, "I don't want you to feel any different from Marty and I.  Your relationship with Cy is no less real than ours.  But...that doesn't mean you're not allowed to still feel maybe some self-hate and confusion and insecurity."

She saw right through me, and honestly I hated it.

"I don't...hate myself."

"You spent your whole life hating yourself, TJ.  Do you really think that'll stop overnight?  You've bottled up who you are your whole life.  I think maybe your hoping to have yourself all figured out already, and the fact that you haven't makes you scared.  I get it..."

"But you...you all have yourself figured out.  Cy...he looks like he has his whole life planned out."

"Cyrus also second-guesses everything.  He absolutely does not have everything figured out." Buffy chuckled.

"I'm not...good enough for him.  I know he's going to want to walk into school tomorrow holding hands or something, and I...I don't know if I'm ready for that.  And I feel bad, like I've already asked Cy to wait for me for so many things already, I don't want to add to the list."

"You don't think this whole thing isn't scary for Cyrus too?  He's not as brave as you think he is."

"He's a lot braver than me," I scoffed.

Reed: Hey

TJ: ??

Whatever the hell this was, this wasn't going to be good.  Why was Reed getting a hold of me now?  It had been what, like 9 months?

I figured it best to just ignore whatever his reply was until I was ready to deal with it.

Maybe tomorrow.

Instead I'd enjoy the fact that Cyrus was back, and that we all got to get milkshakes and some to-go tots at The Spoon 'For The Last Time' as Buffy, Andi, and Cyrus kept singing.  And as we walked through the front door of Andi's house and Cyrus immediately realized the surprise was mostly for him, I very quickly realized I'd need to talk to him.  Tonight.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

I'd resist.

It vibrated again.

Thankfully, I was able to ignore the sudden pang of anxiety welling up in the pit of my stomach as Cyrus threw himself into my side.

"This is awesome!  Did you have anything to do with this?"

Andi furrowed her brow, "Who the heck is this party for, Buffy?"

Buffy huffed, obviously annoyed with all of the questions at this point.

It was her fault though, she made it confusing.

"It's a 'For The Last Time' Party," she smiled, "A 'Welcome Home' for Cyrus.  A 'Bon Voyage' for you Andi.  And a 'We Start High School Tomorrow' for the rest of us."

It was at this point, Amber walked through the door with Jonah.

All we were missing was Marty.

And oh my god, we were starting high school tomorrow.

It was well into our 'party' maybe 45 minutes, with everyone digging into the food Buffy had organized and the tots we'd picked up from The Spoon; I stared at Cyrus looking absolutely happy and hanging off of Andi, somehow suddenly everything started to still.

My heart raced.

I remembered that Reed probably responded.

I don't know why I was so freaked.  But I pulled my phone out of my pocket as if the impending text would physically hurt me.

I guess in some way it sort of did.

Reed: My brother said he saw you walking with your friends on Main Street.

Reed: He said he saw you holding Cyrus' hand.

Evidently when I didn't respond to the first texts, he sent another one ten minutes later.

Reed: So you're like dating him now or something?

The smart part of me said to not respond.  The petty part of me wanted to give him a piece of my mind for the hell he put me through this year.  Okay, well I guess people talk in this town.  It hadn't even been an hour since I walked through Main Street holding his hand.

TJ: Why should I even respond to you?

Reed: So it's true?

TJ: It doesn't matter.  It's none of your business.

He didn't respond for several minutes.  And the whole time I couldn't stop staring at Cyrus.  He looked so happy. So carefree.

Suddenly I felt my phone vibrate in my hand.

Reed: I...I just wanted to say something.  I still hate you for betraying me, ok?  You deserved everything that happened to you.  You weren't even big enough to confront me in person.  You're a coward, I don't like that.  But you've always been a coward.

I mean, he wasn't wrong.  This whole year taught me how much of a coward I am.

Reed: But if it's true your like dating Cyrus or whatever, I just want you to know...maybe I always knew you were like that.  I'm pretty sure you liked me at some point and I definitely used it to get what I wanted, I'm not gonna lie.  I knew you liked him too.  I could tell.  But I never cared that you were like that.  When my brother told me I got angry at you for not trusting me enough to admit it.  I judge a lot.  But I don't judge that.  Good for you honest.

I felt my face grow hot.  Was this some sort of apology or something?  I didn't want it.

TJ: I don't need your approval.

But didn't I.  For so many years of my life?

Reed: Just uh...my cousin's gay and he just left for college and he was talking about how high school was for him .  If you held Cyrus' hand in public today, honestly good for you.  That's brave.  I know your a coward but this one thing I guess I just wanted to say don't freak out like you always do alright?  Highschools cool now.  People are to busy worrying about themselves to care about you.  I still sort of hate you but I wanted to say I'm legit happy for you you finally figured yourself out.  Even if that meant you dropped all of us for some stupid guy.

Was Reed actually being supportive?  And nice?  What the hell.

Reed: I just wanted to say that.  You were my best friend for like 5 years.  I'm mad you couldn't tell me.  I wouldn't have reacted bad.  And I hope this guy's worth it after everything that happened.

I didn't respond after that.  He didn't either.  I guess that's all either of us had to say.

I sat there, feeling detached all over again when Cyrus finally approached me, positing himself so he could sit criss-cross firmly next to me, his knee brushing my own.

"What's on your mind?"

I let out a long groan, trying to process everything, "I think uh," I blinked, "Well I guess Reed knows we're a thing.  He just texted me."

"And?"

"And uh...he's a jerk but apparently not a homophobic one.  He even gave me like actual advice...I didn't ask for."

"Did you just randomly text him we were dating or something?"

"No, I guess his brother saw us walking together on Main Street.  So...rumors spread fast in Shadyside I guess."  I groaned.

Cyrus paused, "And...how does that make you feel?"

"Not...as freaked out as I thought I'd be."  I shrugged, feeling equally empty and drained, "I don't really care that Reed found out."

"And talking to Reed?  How did that make you feel?"

It was at that moment I realized Cyrus was psychoanalyzing me.  I glared at him.

But maybe I needed the psychoanalysis, "It uh, it was weird.  I didn't need to talk to him ever again.  But uh he said some things that were true, it's sort of scary he still knows me so well he like knows exactly how I'm feeling even though I definitely didn't tell him."

"What did he say?"

"That I'm a coward, and that he's surprised I even held your hand in public."  I swallowed, "That I've always been a coward."

"Do you feel like a coward?"

I scoffed at him, "Really, Cy?  If I've proven anything to you this past year, it's that that's a defining factor for me.  That took everything in me to hold your hand and now we're supposed to walk into that school tomorrow and be boyfriends and everyone will find out and people will look at me and judge me because who would expect the basketball guy to be gay?"

Cyrus rolled his eyes, "You know the drama department doesn't have a monopoly on the gays, right?  We're just as diverse as any other subculture.  Jocks are gay, TJ."

"Reed told me nobody cares, that I'm overthinking it.  But what if I'm not?  Every time I think I'm ready or I'm being brave I get really scared.  I'm not brave at all.  I'm not brave like you."

"Bravery isn't big things, Teej."  He reached forward to grab my hand, looking at me with those big overly-supportive eyes of his, "Bravery is getting just enough courage to take one little step forward everyday.  And I don't know how many times I've told you that I'm 100% willing to support you.  I'm not going to push you farther than you feel comfortable.  I'm still figuring out myself too."

"Are you...ready to go really public, Cy?"

He shrugged, "I'm not sure yet.  I don't think I care like you do.  But I also had a really good support system that let me feel brave and honest when I first started figuring stuff out.  You didn't have that immediately.  You dealt with it yourself.  I think...maybe you are still looking at this like you're going go through Grant by yourself.  You have a really big support system, Teej.  Remember that."

I swallowed, "I uh...I don't think I'm ready to walk around holding your hand at school, just yet," I paused, "But uh, I think just like going to stuff with you, sitting with you at lunch, I'm ready for that."

"And if someone asks you about me?"

I swallowed again.

"I think, I'd be honest if I trusted the person."  I smiled, "I'm not ashamed of you, Cy.  I'm just...still figuring out this whole being out thing."

He chuckled at that, "I am too, Teej."

His eyes lit up, "Oh, by the way I got you something from Spain!"

I chuckled at his excitement, and the cute way his eyes went wide, "Did you now?"

"Yes!"  He reached into his pocket to reveal a brown leather holder thing, "Let's go outside to see it."

He immediately stood, pulling me by the hand honestly more aggressively than I anticipated.  Within seconds, he was throwing open the front door to Andi's apartment.

I glanced forward.  The sun was setting.  The sky was spattered with clouds, a mix of red and orange in the sky.

Cyrus glanced up at me.  Looking hopeful and eager.  He carefully placed the leather wrap in my free hand, "Open it."

I carefully unwrapped what I quickly realized was some sort of hard smooth object.  I uncovered the wrap to reveal a charm, the size of my palm almost.  It looked stain glass, it was this beautiful almost mosaic design that looked like those sun windows in Cathedrals.  It was beautiful.

"Hold it up to the sun," he beamed at me.

I did.  The charm immediately brightened.

"I painted it myself.  Make-your-own-stain glass.  I hope you like it."

"It's perfect." I blushed, immediately pulling him into a hug.

I wanted to hold him there forever.  I know we'd already hugged like countless times since he got here earlier this afternoon, but after not seeing him all summer, it almost felt like I was making up for lost time.

"I missed you," I whispered into his ear, "Why'd you have to be gone all summer?"

He chuckled into my chest.

"It's really nice having you back.  Video-chatting once a week wasn't enough."

He rolled his eyes at me, "We texted everyday."

"But I wanted to see your face, Cyrus," I chuckled, "I wanted to look at you."

"Stop," he giggled uncomfortably, "You're making a boy blush."

For a moment he pulled away from me, I guess to look me in the eyes, but I immediately moved myself closer to him, pressing a forehead against his.

His breath immediately hitched.

It was at that moment that I realized how incredibly intimate what I did was.  And how badly I suddenly wanted to kiss him.

And how ready I was to do it.

"Teej?"  He sounded nervous, but I could barely keep my eyes open out of my own sheer nerves.

"Can I kiss you, Cy?" I swallowed, my voice shaking.

"Are you sure?" He sounded desperate, unsure himself, "Are you sure your ready?"

"Are you sure you're ready?" I chuckled.

"I uh...I've never kissed a boy before," he stammered, "But I...I definitely want to kiss you.  I've wanted to kiss you for a long time."

"So, I can kiss you then?"

"Are you sure you want me to be your first kiss?"  He mumbled, somehow trying to talk me out of kissing him.

"How much of you're my boyfriend, I like you more than anybody else, I want to be with you, I want to hold your hand, I want to kiss you, don't you understand?" I chuckled, bringing a hand to his chin.

Huh, even with the nerves this almost felt natural.  It was surreal, like my body knew exactly what to do.

"Okay, but how is the TJ Kippen my boyfriend," Cyrus continued to stammer, "How is this real life?"

"Because the Cyrus Goodman is the most amazing person ever and can I kiss you already, you goof?  I kind of want to get my first kiss over with already."

"Yes, yes please," Cyrus panted, sounding desperate, "Oh my gosh, this is nerve-wracking and crazy."

"Like it isn't for me?" I chuckled, slowly leaning forward.  His mouth suddenly felt like a mile away. Oh my gosh, I was gonna' have my first kiss.

Trying very very hard not to accidentally hit his forehead or his nose, I watched him as he closed his eyes, and I very very slowly leaned in.

Suddenly I felt his lips against mine.  He froze for a moment before he suddenly grabbed onto the sides of my shirt.

My face felt hot.  My stomach twisted and fluttered.  I'm not saying there were fireworks or anything, but it felt like the most natural perfect thing ever.

His lips were so soft, my sides burning where his hands gripped.

We didn't make out or anything, but we probably stood there, our lips still against each other for way too long.  But neither of us could pull away.  Neither of us wanted it to end.

Okay, I didn't even know how to make out.  Probably something I'd have to learn.  I needed to find out if Cyrus was even ready for that.

But as he pulled away from me, the two of us couldn't stop smiling.

My first kiss with my first boyfriend.  Perfect.  Natural.  Right.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?"  He offered, the moment broken by his insecurity.

"No.  I'm terrified." I smiled, "But we'll figure it out together."