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Summary
He didn’t know either why George had kissed back—maybe because it was Max who did it, and you would not correct your enemy when they were making a mistake; maybe because after all, the talks about George being a fag were just that: stupid, stupid talks, product of his effeminate lashes and how pretty he was, how maybe all the other boys just wished he were because he looked kind of like a girl, and though George was George, if you squinted your eyes hard enough he could just barely pass for Regina.
And he wanted George so, so bad, it had to for sure be some sort of rare, incurable disease.