Heartbreak is a hairline fracture in the silver skin of time. Barely visible; a mere moment in the square miles of millennia. But evident every time the rains come back, widening the break over time.

— Samuel A. Wyatt

**************************

Sam

The first week of October blows by in a rush of chilly winds and scattered thunderstorms. I go to school, come home, and work on my poetry, and before I know it, I'm not grounded anymore.

Almost literally before I know it. But to be fair, I'm so preoccupied with cramping in my lower abdomen from the moment I wake up the following Monday, that it's difficult to focus on much else.

Oh god, Is my first thought when I wake to that familiar, stabbing pain. Please no.

But rather than pretend that what I'm feeling isn't what I think it is (as I've been known to do some months), I'm sure to grab the necessary supplies from under the sink and stuff them in my bag before I head out. While I'm at it, I grab my razor. I know I'm going to need it today.

"Bye Mom," I call out as I descend the stairs, my hand over my stomach.

"Hold on a minute! Are you doing anything after school today?" Mom asks me from the kitchen, before I can slink out the front door. "Or at all this week?"

I know that she's talking to me because, of course, Rose is gone already. It has been over a week since we stopped talking, and one week exactly since I watched those bullies run to find her and Cody and, did absolutely nothing about it. But since she came home that same afternoon beaming with happiness, and with not a scratch or bruise on her body, I feel no compunction. I knew she could take care of herself.

At first, I think Mom's question is a test. "No, nothing. I'm grounded."

Mom emerges from the kitchen just in time to raise an eyebrow at me. "Honey, your punishment is over. Don't you remember our agreement? Though I guess it was our fault for not congratulating you on your full week of good behavior...." She says this last part with a hint of sarcasm, implying that a mere week of not getting detention shouldn't exactly be something to sing and dance about.

But of course, with a delinquent like me, my parents will take what they can get.

"Oh, that's right," I say. "Man, I totally forgot." I don't tell her that it's because I've been so damn depressed lately, I probably would've sat alone in my darkened bedroom all week if I wasn't grounded.

"So....I'm assuming you haven't made any plans then?"

I shift my backpack to the other shoulder, still lingering awkwardly in the doorway and clutching my throbbing abdomen discreetly. I don't like the sound of her tone, like she thinks I should have plans. "Uh, no. Why?"

"No reason...." She pauses, but I just know that she's getting to something. I heave a sigh. I'm going to be late for school if she doesn't get to the point.

"Okay....?" I prod her, easing the door open as a signal that I'm going to leave.

"Your school sent out an email about some dance that they're having this weekend," she finally elaborates, a bit too casually. "Homecoming, I think it is. Have you heard about it yet?"

No, Mom. I haven't been forced to listen to the announcements every single morning, or seen the huge, colorful signs on every wall in the damn school, or heard my annoying classmates jabbering on and on about who they're going to ask for the past week.

"Yes Mom. And I'm not going."

"Why not?" Mom asks, sounding genuinely disappointed. "You don't have anyone you'd like to go with?"

"Nope."

"No friends, or maybe a boy who—"

"Nope." I'm quickly starting to wish I had just left when I had the chance.

"Well I think you should go anyway. I know you and George weren't big on dances in middle school either, but you're in high school now. Don't you want a little bit of the experience?"

God, why is this such a big fucking deal to her? "Can we please talk about this later? I really have to go."

Mom approaches me with sad eyes. "At least think about it," she pleads, taking my hair out of it's usual bun so that it falls in frizzy waves around my shoulders. She runs her fingers through it. She does this sometimes, seemingly as a gesture of affection, clearly not knowing how much it pisses me the hell off. "I know you've never been much of a girly girl, but....well, I would like to see you all dolled up at least once before you graduate high school."

I tense up as she touches my hair, clenching my fists. I want to politely ask her to give me back my hair band, but I just know that if I do, I'm going to scream the words. As it is, I can barely manage a low-toned, "Bye Mom," as I finally slip out the door.

My hair is still down, I'm barely holding back the tears at the brims of my eyes, and the skin on my arms is itching like hell. And all the way to school, it's still a struggle not to scream.

------------

Rose

Another day, another early morning spent plucking new, darker hairs from my upper lip. And my chin, and around my eyebrows. These unwanted guests seem to pop up every night now, forcing me to make the painful, hair-extracting process that I formerly had to do once or twice a month into a daily routine. And it's all I can do to still pretend that I'm just an average girl, removing those normal stray hairs from my average-girl face.

Of course, I have to wake up extra early now to give myself enough time to do this before school, and still leave early enough to avoid Sam.

"Doing okay over here, George?"

I jump at the sound of Miss Vaughn's voice behind me. I wasn't aware that I was just sitting there, spacing out, and probably looked like a slacker. "Yeah, I'm good. Just....thinking." I respond, blushing as I pick up my pencil.

"Okay, just checking in." She smiles at me, and gives the crappy beginnings of my sketch an approving nod. "Keep up the good work."

I have to hold back a groan as I observe my work so far. So not good.

For this month's project, she let us choose our own art medium and gave us little instruction, just as long we created something for the Halloween display that she would set up outside her room. She started it off with a few ceramic jack-o-lanterns that she had made herself.

Other kids chose to follow her example and work in ceramics as well, but I decided to go the simple route this month and just work in colored pencils. Maybe Kelsey and Brianna wouldn't get so pissy at me if I didn't seem like I was going above and beyond to impress the teacher this time.

And I was probably right to think so, because this past week they've been way more talkative with me.

"So are you guys going to homecoming this weekend?" Kelsey asks as she works over her clay mold of a skeleton head.

I shrug. "I dunno," I respond in a tone that implies the answer is no. In reality, however, I've honestly been considering it. During the couple of dates that Cody and I went on last week (the ones where we weren't running from bullies, I mean), he kind of implied that he wanted to go. So I've been thinking of asking him, and then inviting Rose Parker to come along so that I could finally introduce my best friend to my....well, my boyfriend.

My heart takes off at the mere thought of the word.

Brianna, meanwhile, snorts bitterly. "Why would I go? It's not like anyone's asked me."

"So what? Groups of friends go to dances all the time," Kelsey points out. "In fact, I was thinking the three of us could go together. What do you guys think?"

"Actually I have plans," I say quickly, biting my tongue the second the words are out of my mouth.

Bri raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Like, plans to do something else, or to go to the dance with someone else?" Kelsey asks with narrowed eyes.

They're both staring at me now, and my palms are sweating like crazy. I wish Cody were here; he'd know exactly what to say without outright lying. "Um....just plans."

Kelsey rolls her eyes. "George, if you're going with someone else just tell us. It's not like we'll be offended."

"Yeah, aren't you friends with that weird red-headed girl now?" Brianna asks. "Are you guys going together?"

I don't know what makes me jump to Rose's defense so reflexively, but I do. "She isn't weird," I snap. "She's awesome."

"I'll take that as a yes, then," says Brianna with a satisfied grin. "How long have you guys been dating?"

"We're just friends," I growl.

"Oh, that's right....when are you gonna come out and admit that you play for the other team again?"

Kelsey elbows her with a glare, as usual, but this time I don't just ignore the jab or laugh it off. Something inside me snaps without warning, and I find that I don't give a shit what Bri and Kelsey think anymore. They're no longer my only friends.

"I'll do it right now," I respond casually. "I like guys. There."

Their mouths drop open comically. I smile, both at their reactions and my own confession. I like guys. It's so nice that I can say it that way, without the word "gay" anywhere in there. Because this way, it's not a lie. I do like guys. Just like any straight girl would.

"Wow," Kelsey laughs at last. "I never thought you would actually say it."

I feel a bit of my self-consciousness return, but I try to shake it off with a shrug. "I guess I was always afraid you guys wouldn't accept it."

"After all the hints we've dropped?" says Brianna indignantly. "We've been waiting for this. As a matter of fact," she turns to Kelsey. "You owe me ten bucks."

Kelsey rolls her eyes, but forks over the cash. "Anyway, of course we accept you George. And we won't tell anyone. Uh, not that everyone doesn't already assume, but—"

"Yeah, I know," I mutter. "It bugs the hell out of me."

"I don't get it," remarks Bri in a low voice. "I mean, there are so many worse things you can be than gay. There are nutcases out there who get sex changes, for crying out loud."

"Right?" Kelsey agrees, shaking her head in disgust. "Now that I will never understand. I mean, these people claim they were 'born in the wrong body'. Like, that is a serious mental illness. I might as well say that I should've been born a cat."

They laugh and continue their horrifying discussion in light tones, but this is the point where I tune them out. I find myself reaching for the spot around my neck, just underneath my hoodie, where Sam's necklace used to lie. I haven't worn it since the last time we talked, but I still sometimes feel like it should be there. That one little piece of girlhood that was all my own, that I used to clutch through my shirt when I needed to remember myself, and that lost all of its comfortable meaning the second the person who gave it to me betrayed me.....

Shaking myself out of these thoughts, I go back to sketching orange leaves in silence, keeping the truth bottled in and hiding my despair behind a very convincing poker face. Pretending that it isn't a constant struggle not to scream.

------------

The first thing I notice when I walk into biology later is Sam's face. I can't explain why, since I've done such a great job at ignoring him for the past week, but my eyes are immediately drawn to it. And I notice that he looks sick.

No, not sick. Depressed? No, that's not it either. In pain? Possibly.

Wait....why is his hair down?

Wait, why do I care?

I shake myself out of my strange stupor the moment Sam looks up at me, probably sensing how long I've been examining his face. I trudge to my seat beside him with my head down, still resenting that there's not another open seat I can move to in this class.

"Hey! Hey faggot!" Edgar hisses from across the room. I ignore him, of course. He has nothing to say to me, he just wants to remind everyone what he thinks of me. As usual, I keep my head down, even when all his friends start to join in on his jeers. A few even reach over and jab me with pencils.

"Pussy!"

"Fag!"

"Cocksucker!"

Our teacher pretends not to hear them as he takes attendance. It's okay. I'm used to it.

But what I'm not used to, I must admit, is the intensity and frequency to which the bullying has increased in the past week. Not just in this class, but in every class. And no matter how hard I try not to think about it, my mind can only conjure up one explanation as to why this is.

It didn't take long for pretty much everyone to realize that Sam and I are no longer speaking, that we hardly even look at each other anymore. Perplexing as it may be, no one has bothered to question it. Suddenly, bullies who used to take it easy on me— or even lay off completely— for the sole reason that they were scared of Sam are coming after me like starving animals. They almost seem to be making up for lost time.

"Hey faggot," Edgar hisses. "Did your boy-toy Foster give you a good fucking last night?"

I lower my head, fists clenched, and bite my lip to avoid letting out so much as a sigh.

And that's right, not only have their taunts gotten worse, but they're no longer directed solely towards me. Not since word about me and Cody has gotten around, and all the worst people have started using my relationship with him as a new and exciting way to torment me.

As the day's lesson begins up front and the morning vulgarities continue on in hushed voices, I keep casting involuntary glances in Sam's direction. As much as I hate it, I think a part of me still expects him to jump to my defense every time I'm persecuted. 

One of Edgar's cronies begins pelting me discreetly with what looks to be expired condoms, and my body reacts as it always has: I tense up and dart my eyes towards my brother, awaiting the moment of Sam's inevitable blowup that will most likely get him sent to the principal's office....

But in my mind, above the habitual expectation that will take more than a few weeks to unlearn, I know it's not going to happen.

Sure enough, Sam just lowers his head and ignores the harassment happening right in front of him, like everyone else always has. He doesn't react, doesn't even look in my direction.

Good, I think as the boys' daily game of trying to make me talk continues in earnest. I don't need him to fucking defend me. I don't want him to!

I don't want him to.

------------

Sam

I am the first person out of biology today. I don't think I've ever left class so fast, to be honest. I don't look at Rose, or her bullies, or anyone else I want to punch in the fucking face. Instead, I run straight to the boys' bathroom and do exactly what I've needed to do since I woke up this morning, with various phrases that won't stop haunting me echoing through my mind intermittently. Be them Rose's, Cody's, or my own.

slice.

"....need to stop being so codependent...."

slice.

"....stop talking to each other all together!"

slice.

"I have a crush on your brother."

slice.

"....George."

IhatemyselfIhatemyselfIhatemyselfIhatemyselfIhatemyself.

When I'm done, I lay on the cold tile floor and sob as I hold my abdomen, now bleeding from more than one place around my body, in two very different, disgusting ways.

Fuck, I'm going to be late for gym.

But fuck, I don't want to get up.

------------

Rose

Which way did Sam go after class? He left so fast, I didn't see....

Right, I don't care. I shouldn't care. I'm off to English, where I get to see Cody and talk about homecoming, laugh and smile with someone who actually gives a shit about me. Not like Sam.

But where did he go?

------------

Sam

The loud echoes of bouncing basketballs greet me as I shuffle awkwardly into the gymnasium, over thirty minutes late. Luckily the class is all spread out by now, so very few people witness my arrival.

That is, until Coach Wheeler feels the need to call attention to it.

"Samantha!" she barks, causing those on the nearest courts to look. "Do you have a pass?"

I simply shake my head, still so damn exhausted from the effort it took to get up from the bathroom floor. And my abdomen hurts, and my forearms sting like hell beneath my sleeves.

"Then that's a tardy," she growls, marking it down on her clipboard. "Guess you shouldn't even bother dressing out, you're so late. Go find a group that'll let you join them."

I speed-walk away from her with my head down, a scowl overtaking my warm face. I ignore the titters around me, and the girls muttering, "Don't even think about it." As if I would ever ask to join them.

I head straight to the back of the gym where the boys play, and find where I know Dan is shooting free throws by himself.

"Hey!" he exclaims, his eyebrows shooting up into his fringe when he sees me. "I didn't think you were coming today. Why are you so late?"

"Don't worry about it," I snap, snatching the ball as he bounces it to me. I shoot it through the basket, let it bounce once and catch it once more in three seconds flat.

"Is she not making you dress out?"

"Nope." I shoot the ball through again.

He eyes me in my jeans, boots, and long sleeves as I shoot the ball a third time. "Aren't you burning up in that?"

"Nope."

"Well, someone's not very chatty today."

"Nope." I go for a fourth shot, but the ball bounces off the edge of the hoop and ends up in Dan's outstretched hands. He tucks it under his arm and stares me down.

"What?"

"What's wrong?"

I shrug. "Nothing."

"Bullshit. Why were you late today?"

"Fuck you," I spit. "None of your business."

"Don't be a dick, just tell me."

I clench my fists, shaking my loose hair out of my eyes to expose my burning glare. Much to my disappointment, he doesn't shrivel under it,  but simply glares right back at me.

The staredown doesn't last as long as usual before I lower my shoulders, defeated. "Do you have a hair tie?" I whisper instead of answering him.

He pulls a rubber band from the collection on his wrist that I always forget exists until I need one from him.

I take it gratefully, but also with suspicion. I've asked before and he brushed it off, but now I ask again, "Why do you always have those?"

"What?"

"Those rubber bands. You always have them on your arm. Why?"

In that instant, Dan's whole demeanor changes. He goes from sensitive and caring to blocked off and defensive in the blink of an eye. With a slight shrug, he mutters, "No reason."

"What do you mean? There's gotta be a reason—"

"Don't worry about it," he cuts me off, in a tone that mocks mine from just a moment ago.

"Just tell me. Why do you wear them?"

"Fuck you. None of your business."

I roll my eyes. "Quit being like that, I'm just curious."

"And I'm just curious about why you were late. You gonna tell me that?"

Well shit, he has me there. "....It's not a big deal."

"Then neither are these stupid rubber bands. I'll trust you the day you start trusting me, Sam. How about that?"

He glares at me, as if expecting a response, but for once I am speechless. He throws the ball at me and I catch it by the tips of my fingers.

We take turns shooting free throws without saying much of anything for awhile. After a few moments of awkward silence punctured only by the echoes of other voices and basketballs bouncing across the gym, Dan pauses with the ball in his hands and sighs loudly.

"Do you think it's possible," he says in a low voice. "That you and I can ever have one pleasant conversation?"

"What do you mean?" I for one, think we've been perfectly pleasant to each other lately.

"You know. One that doesn't include yelling, insults, or physical abuse; eventually ending in some kind of awkward reconciliation and silence?"

I chuckle. "Most of our conversations do go that way, don't they?"

"I'm pretty sure all of them do."

"Well they don't have to," I point out. "Maybe if you'd quit being such a nosy asshole who never knows when to shut up—"

"Or maybe if you weren't an overly-sensitive dick who takes out his pent up anger on me constantly."

Hm. "Well....you got me there." But I can't help but smile. His. Never have I had someone other than Rose use my pronouns so naturally.

Dan must catch my slight grin, because he smiles back and throws the ball back my way.

We're quiet for a bit more before he breaks the silence again. "Are you doing anything after school today?"

"No. Why?"

He shrugs, not quite meeting my eyes. "I don't know. I've got nothing going on, and....and maybe—"

I raise an eyebrow, my slight grin widening. "And maybe what?"

"Maybe we can actually get together and have a pleasant time for once?"

I pause, turning the basketball over and over in my hands. Get together? Have a pleasant time? With Dan? Not likely, if you ask me.

And yet, if you asked me a month ago if it was likely that I could go two weeks without uttering a single word to my twin, I would have given you a firm hell no. Furthermore, a month ago I saw Dan as one of my most irritating bullies, and now he's not so bad. Maybe it is possible for certain unquestionable truths to change.

"Well," I say, pretending to still be thinking about it. "I did just get ungrounded, and would like to test out my freedom, so.... Sure. Yeah, I guess that'd be alright."

Dan's face breaks into a broad grin, which he quickly turns back into a poker face. As if I wouldn't notice. "Okay, cool." he responds apathetically. Just then, the bell rings. "I'll meet you in the commons after school, 'kay?" He turns and heads for the boys' locker room without waiting for my response.

It's impossible for me to hold in the laugh that escapes under my breath, almost coming out as a giggle. I'm just glad he's no longer in earshot to hear it. "Sounds good, man." I respond anyway. "I'll be there.

------------

Rose

We're doing homework together in the back of the classroom during the last ten minutes of English when Cody's low, somewhat husky voice breaks my concentration.

"So....homecoming is a thing that's happening soon."

I giggle at the way he says it, all obviously casual. God, he's so cute and dorky. "Yeah?" I respond in a teasing voice, turning to look at him. "What about it?"

He chews the end of his pencil, something I've noticed he does when he's nervous. The look in his eyes takes me back to last week, when he asked me to officially be his boyfriend. Of course, after silently editing the word in my head to girlfriend, I said yes. So why he's so nervous now, I can't imagine.

"Well....I know we've talked about it a little before, but I would kind of suck if I didn't officially ask you....would you like to....you know, like....go with me?"

I roll my eyes a little, but smile. "Of course I would, you dork. As if you even had to ask."

He gives me one of my favorite crooked grins of his that shows the hint of a silver filling in a left molar. I almost think he's going to kiss me for the first time right here and now, when a familiar jeering voice obliterates the moment.

"Ha! I totally called it! Hey guys, the fags are going to homecoming together!"

"Awwwww!" The guys make the noise in unison, gathering around our table. At the front of the room, Mrs. Carter is reading a book at her desk, ignoring everyone.

I grit my teeth and lower my head, but Cody looks right up at the guys. "Yeah, I asked my boyfriend to a dance. What's your point?"

"Don't you mean your girlfriend?" Edgar asks, winking at me as if he knows something.

It's just your imagination, I have to tell myself as I start to sweat under his gleaming gaze. He thinks he's making fun of you. He doesn't know.

"Yeah. Is little Georgina going to wear a dress?" Another guy adds.

"Piss off," Cody growls at him. I flinch at his tone, imagining what he would sound like if he ever found out how much I wish I could wear a dress.

"Don't tell me you're both going to show up in suits like some kind of freak show!"

"We'll show up in whatever the hell we want, thanks. And you'll shut your damn mouth about it."

"Oooooo," They all hold up their hands, feigning fright. Edgar just laughs. "What'll you do if we don't. Snitch on us again?"

"Don't tempt me," says Cody, smiling like he knows he has the upper hand in this situation. In a way he does, having won the last few battles.

Just then the bell rings, and Edgar's friends are quick to scatter. Edgar, however, hangs back to offer a few more words before following his cronies. "If you two losers are as smart as you think you are," he warns us in a low voice. "You won't show up this Friday."

Cody stares straight back at him. "You don't scare me."

"Oh believe me," Edgar says, with a shark's grin that sends shivers down my spine. "That's what I'm counting on."

------------

"He said what?" Rose demanded in a shrill voice, slamming down her lunch tray with a force that makes her applesauce splatter onto the table.

I grimace at her reaction, her electric blue eyes wide and fiery with both astonishment and rage. For awhile I debated telling her what Edgar had said to me and Cody. The truth is, I've never really shared the threats of my bullies with anyone. Not even Sam (though he usually ended up finding out anyway). But Rose Parker is different. She's the first person I've ever found myself compulsively opening up to, and it's strangely addicting.

"Yeah," I confirm, since she's still staring at me like she needs confirmation. "Those were his exact words. Cody thinks he's bluffing, but I know those guys better. It was definitely a threat."

Rose shook her head in disbelief. "God...what is with those boys? Can't they give you a break one fucking time? Why are they so obsessed with you? Like, what did you ever even do to them?" She says all of this while angrily jabbing her fork into today's entree of tasteless noodles with a force that might have dented the plastic lunch tray.

I shrug as if the questions weren't rhetorical. "I don't know. But they've picked on me for as long as I can remember."

"And no one's ever done anything about it???" she asks with even more outrage.

I hesitate, flashing back to every time throughout my childhood when I've come home with scrapes and bruises and lied about where they were from. Of course, Mom was no idiot. She knew better than to believe that I "just fell down" every single day, and called me out on it. But I never let her call the school, always believing that doing so would only cause me more trouble. And then, once Sam caught on to what was happening and started fighting my battles for me, it became an issue of keeping him from getting into trouble.

"It's....it's complicated." I answer by way of explanation.

"Won't be very complicated when I report those assholes to the fucking principal," Rose mutters under her breath.

"Rose, don't. It'll be fine—"

"What do you mean?!" She protests. "You just said you're pretty sure he was threatening you, and from the sound of it, I think he was. He and those other neanderthals are probably planning something awful for you and Cody if you guys show up to the dance. Something cruel and humiliating, like off of the movie Carrie—" Her voice ranges from angry to panicky as she rambles, and I have to cut her off.

"Rose," I say, reaching over to grab her hand. "I've dealt with these guys since grade school, and tattling on them doesn't help anything." It's what got Cody into trouble, I don't say. "Everything will be fine. We just have to be careful on Friday—"

"You shouldn't have to be!" Rose argues, now near tears. "It's not fair!"

I just shrug again, though I have to admit she has a point. It's not fair that I have to constantly watch my back at school or face getting pummeled. But when you're a transgender kid in the religious south, you learn pretty early on that life isn't fair, and that learning to deal with it is always safer than trying to fight the system. Reality isn't some cheesy nineties movie where teens win lawsuits, everyone finds love, and no one gets hurt. Reality is a world where, a lot of the time, even the protagonists don't get happily ever afters.

"Well if you won't let me protect you by telling someone," she gives in with a sigh, "Can I at least come with you guys on Friday? I swear, I won't third-wheel or anything. I just want to be there to watch your back."

I smile gratefully. "Of course. I was going to ask you to come anyway. I've been wanting to formally introduce you to my boyfriend."

She giggles, and I hope that this leads the conversation to brighter topics. "Man, I can tell you enjoy that."

"Enjoy what?"

"Calling him your boyfriend."

I have bite my lip to keep from breaking into a ridiculously wide grin. "Yeah," I admit. "Yeah, I do."

------------

I wish the light mood from lunch could have just carried over to gym class, but of course, gym and misery just naturally go hand-in-hand. The way I see it, if you had a good time in P.E. your freshman year of high school, you were either really lucky, or one of the pieces of shit who picked on the miserable kids.

I've always been one of the miserable kids, but at least now I'm lucky enough to have Rose Parker to get me through it.

"So besides getting asked to homecoming by Dream Boy," she teases me, while she half-ass dribbles the basketball we're supposed to be practicing free throws with. "How has your day been?"

"Okay," I tell her honestly. "I came out to my friends in art class this morning, so that was fun."

She completely misses the ball as it bounces back up to meet her hand, too busy blinking at me in surprise to notice. "Wait, what? Really? Your art class friends, that's.....Kelsey and whatsherface?

"Kelsey and Brianna, yeah." I haven't told her much about them, just that they've been my kinda-sorta friends since middle school, mostly out of convenience.

"Well how did that go?"

"Pretty good, actually. I mean, they've suspected it for a long time anyway, so I guess they've never had a problem with me being gay." If only I were actually just gay, I add in my head. Because trans people, as they made quite clear through their comments, bring entirely different opinions to the table.

"That's great!" Rose smiles wide, seeming legitimately happy for me, and making me feel warm inside. It's one of my favorite things about her, actually. Unlike what you get with so many people, every emotion Rose Parker expresses is so intense and genuine that it's actually contagious.

As always, her smile makes me smile wide as well. "Yeah. But even if they had been totally homophobic, I don't think I would have cared. Not now that I have you."

She blushes and tries to hide it behind her curly red flyaways, something I've noticed she does a lot.

"What about you? How has your day been?"

Her smile falters immediately, and at first I think it's because she's about to tell me something upsetting. But then I notice that she's looking at something behind me.

"Hey lovebirds!" says a nasally, singsong voice. A manicured hand clamps down on my shoulder. "What are you guys talking about over here?"

"None of your business, Fiona." Rose growls. "What do you assholes want?"

I turn to look and see that Fiona Hoffman is flanked by two other girls. Fiona removes the hand from my shoulder and places it on her own chest, faking an offended look. "God, no need to be such a bitch. Just trying to strike up friendly conversation."

"Bullshit. You guys only seek me out when you're bored with your normal, insipid conversations and want to get on my nerves."

"Wow. Insipid." Fiona twirls her hair, which has been highlighted with blond since our last encounter. "Still using that word-of-the-day calendar, Rosalie?"

Rose smirks. "Yep."

"God I swear, you are such a dork."

"And you are an insufferable wench," Rose snaps back. "Now I'll ask you again: what do you want?"

Attempting to seep into the shadows, I observe their back-and-forth in awe. How I wish I could be as effortlessly witty with my comebacks as Rose Parker, Sam, or even Cody. Sometimes it really feels like I'm the only person around here who freaking sucks at talking.

"Ohhh, nothing much. Just to clear something up," Fiona responds casually. She elbows one of her friends, whose evil smile matches her own. "Violet here says she overheard you guys just now. Is it true that little Georgie finally came out of the closet?"

All eyes turn to me, effectively ending my attempts to fade into the background. I swallow nervously. Luckily Rose has my back, as always. "What, are you guys fucking stalking us now? Are you really so obsessed with us that you're enlisting your minions to eavesdrop on our conversations??"

"Whoa, chill out," says Violet. "I just overheard. Is that a crime now?"

"It's fucking rude," Rose snaps. "This is an A B conversation; kindly C your way out of it."

"Wow," Fiona rolls her eyes annoyingly. "I'm pretty sure my mom used that comeback when she was in school. Got anything original?"

"Yeah, go fuck yourself with a cactus!"

"Seems to me that our question has been answered," the third, nameless girl sneers with her friends. "She's obviously bitter because, now that Georgie's admitted he's gay, she won't be able to fuck him on the side anymore."

"God, I can't wait to tell Warren!" Fiona cackles. "I mean, he always guessed that George was a fag, but now that we know it's actually true....oh, he's gonna have a hay day with this."

Fuck. I feel like I just swallowed a block of ice as I think about what the rest of my week is going to be like, once the news of my "coming out" finally gets around to everyone in the entire school, instead of just my normal bullies. Not to mention the shitstorm that will be awaiting me if I am brave enough to actually attend the homecoming dance on Friday. And Cody....dear god, what will they do to Cody?

My internal panicking is interrupted as I witness Rose Parker get right up into Fiona's face, wearing the meanest, most threatening expression I've ever seen on her. All three girls quit laughing at once.

"Listen here, you evil fucking cunts," Rose spits, addressing all of them, but only looking at Fiona. "His life—" she points a finger in my direction, "Is not your business." She jabs it into Fiona's shoulder. "I don't give a shit if he's gay, straight, bi, trans, or whatever, and you shouldn't either. God, you people make me fucking sick! You have no right to treat him like you do. Like just because he's too nice of a goddamn person to defend himself, that makes him fucking social property for any demon in this hellhole of a school to fucking abuse. George is a person, and this is his life. And guess what else, bitch? He's my friend. And I will not stand for this any longer. So you go tell your little friends and your boyfriends that if any of you lays a goddamn finger on him ever again—"

"What are you gonna do?" Fiona interrupts her monologue, not backing down an inch. "Snitch on us?"

"....No." Rose laughs in a low, cruel voice that gives me chills. "I won't tell on you. I will end you. All of you. I don't give a single shit what happens to me, either. I don't care if I get suspended or expelled, or even fucking jailed, but I will make sure that every single last one of you who ever made his life hell goes down with me. That's a promise."

Violet and the other girl have taken full steps back from Rose by this point, and I don't blame them. In their shoes, under that icy glare, I would be terrified.

But Fiona, on the other hand, still has not retreated a step. She meets Rose's eyes bravely and looks into them with determination, as well as something like pleasant surprise. "Damn Parker. I was just kidding before, but....damn. It really does just kill you inside that he's gay, doesn't it?"

My back pressed against the wall behind the confrontation that my silence has persisted through, I return my eyes to Rose's flushed face. I await her next threatening comeback, or even one of her normal, sarcastic remarks. But she seems to have run out of things to say.

Luckily, so has Fiona. With a simple flip of her hair and not another word, she turns away and marches back to her side of the gym. Her minions follow her obediently, leaving me alone with a heavily breathing Rose Parker who looks close to tears.

I swallow, clearing my dry throat. "Rose?" I speak up timidly. "You okay?"

She looks at me, as if just now remembering that I'm there and that I heard everything. Immediately, her whole demeanor changes. "Ha! Are you kidding?" She laughs. "That was great! Did you see the looks on their stupid faces?"

I'm reluctant to join in her laughter, still pretty spooked from the whole thing. "Yeah, they were pretty scared. Probably even Fiona, underneath her mask. Did you really mean all of that?"

She stops laughing, looking at me curiously. "Everything I said? Dude, of course. You're my best friend. I'd do anything for you."

She smiles wide, which of course, makes me relax and smile in return. "Thanks Rose. You have no idea how much that means to me. You're my best friend, too."

She's still beaming at me, but I can tell that some underlying emotion still lingers in her eyes, even though she's clearly trying to hide it. Whatever it is, fear or sadness or something else entirely, I can't help but wonder if it's the same thing that Fiona saw in her eyes when she made that last comment.

That last comment. "Rose, are you sure you're okay?"

"Dude, I'm fine. A little shaken up, maybe, but you know....nothing more than usual after dealing with that bitch."

"The things she said....did she get to you at all? You can tell me if she did, I totally understand." For some reason, I feel like Rose always tries to act braver than she feels about these confrontations with bullies.

Rose snorts derisively. "You think I'd let that shallow whore get to me after all these years? Not a chance. I just care about you, man. I'll be fine. Anyway, I have to pee. I swear, it's like all this pent up energy just goes straight to my bladder! Be right back."

As she runs off, leaving me standing alone on the court, I can't shake this strange feeling. This feeling that Rose Parker just lied to me for once, instead of the other way around.

------------

Sam

I've lost count of the number of days I've had Cody's jacket for. It has to have been at least couple weeks though, right? I can only assume he's forgotten about it by now, but as he grabs his seat next to me in Creative Writing, it's the only thing on my mind.

"Hey," he greets me with a nod. He's wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans, and I wonder if he's cold.

I nod back, but otherwise say nothing. As much as it hurts, I've been trying to distance myself from Cody lately. The more I think about it, the more I realize that the source of everything that is wrong in my life right now goes back to Cody-fucking-Foster. Not that it's his fault that I fell for him so hard and fast, or that Rose lied about her fucking gender just to steal him from me, but still. Whenever we're together anymore, all he wants to talk about is "George", never once sensing that I'm not at all interested in the progress of their relationship.

"So I asked George to homecoming today." He whispers after Morton passes out our journals.

Sigh. Here he fucking goes again. "Yeah?." I say, not looking up from my writing. Despite Mr. Morton's advice to leave it the way it was, I have been expanding on and altering my poem for the past week. Now, I begin yet another line with Heartbreak is....

"He said yes," Cody goes on, and even without looking at him there is no missing the smile in his voice. "He seemed excited, too. I don't even know why I was nervous."

"Uh huh."

"I guess a part of me is still shocked that he actually likes me back. I feel like at any moment, he could still tell me that he's not interested in me."

"Mmm." Yes, he's told me all this before. All last week he talked about how he could hardly believe he actually had a boyfriend, and how much he loved being around "George", always being sure to end the conversation with how grateful he is that he has me to talk about all this stuff with. Meanwhile, I'd sit there in mostly apathetic silence, grunting and nodding every now and then.

Cody sighs. He's not stupid; I know he isn't completely blind to my apathy. "Thanks for listening to me ramble all the time, Sam. It probably gets annoying hearing me talk about your brother so much, huh?"

I shrug. "S' okay."

"Does he ever talk about me at all?"

I pause my pen mid-line as I wonder briefly what to say to this. I go for the truth. "We actually haven't spoken much lately." I admit in a low voice.

"Really? Why's that?"

I grip my pen so tightly that my knuckles turn white. God dammit, I really don't want to talk about this. But I risk a glance to my left to see Cody staring at me intensely, his brown eyes full of concern, and my stupid, broken heart speeds up inside my chest. God, why does he have to do this to me?

"Sorry," he whispers, probably seeing the look on my face. "I guess it's none of my business. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

But the look on his face, the way he rustles his runs his fingers through his sunkissed brown waves and bites his lip nervously, reminds me of all the times he's been honest with me. Sharing the meaning behind his poem, telling me about his little sister in the hospital, coming out to me before anyone else....and I feel like a total asshole.

"No....it's fine," I sigh. Of course there's no way I can tell him everything, but I suppose it wouldn't be right for me to shut him out completely. "A couple weeks ago, George and I had this huge fight about....well, about a lot of things. Stupid things that have been building up for awhile. I don't want to go into the details, but the truth is....I said something I shouldn't have. Something that crossed the line."

Cody's eyes grew wide. "What did you say?"

I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans under my desk, feeling on the urge of a panic attack just remembering what I said. Every cell in my body wants to be sliced open whenever I think of it. "I called him a name. I know, I know," I say in response to his raised eyebrow. "It doesn't seem like a big deal, but it was. You wouldn't understand; it's kind of a personal thing between us. But the point is that I knew it would hurt him, and I said it anyway, and it completely broke our relationship. The worst part of all is....I honestly don't know if I can ever fix it."

Feeling myself start to tear up, I look away. That was an understatement. More like, I'm positive that I can never, ever fix it.

"Alright everyone, time's up!" Morton calls from the front of the room. "Pass up your journals, please."

Once again, I am left with a half-finished sentence at the end of the same poem I've been writing for a week. And again, I don't pass my journal forward, but instead stick it in my backpack to work on later.

As Morton goes into today's lesson at the front of the room, Cody leans toward me and whispers, "You're not a bad person, Sam. You know that, right?"

I don't answer. I just keep staring at the front of the room, not taking in a single thing Mr. Morton is saying. "I'm not a bad person," I had sobbed into Dan's shoulder exactly a week ago, silently begging him not to judge me. But now, sitting here next to my brother's boyfriend, my heart still pounding fast with want.....I'm not so sure.

Wait a sec....did I just refer to Rose as my brother? In my own head?

"The guilt is eating you up, I can see it," Cody continues. "George will forgive you, you just have to give him time." He says it with such confidence, and there's no way that I can explain to him the magnitude of what it was that I said. If he knew the full story, he would understand that there's no way Rose will ever forgive me. I don't deserve to be forgiven. "Haven't you guys ever fought before?"

"Not like this." Because I've never done something so shitty for such a petty reason. And that's when I remember that the petty reason in question is sitting three feet away from me, whispering words of comfort.

"Well, even the worst fights burn themselves out eventually," Cody says, reaching over and touching my arm. I know that this is meant to be comforting as well, but I tense up under his touch, glad that my sleeves are long so he can't see my goosebumps.

He must sense something, though, because he removes his hand immediately. "Hey," he says suddenly. "You're not grounded anymore this week, are you?"

"No, why?"

"Why don't you and I do something after school? We can go to the library or something, maybe it'll get your mind off of things."

I feel a warm sensation spread through my entire body. I decide it must be joy, something I haven't felt in what seems like forever. "Oh god, that would be great," I laugh. "I would love nothing more—" but my heart sinks when I remember that I already promised Dan we'd hang out today. "Oh wait! Aw shit, no I can't."

His face, which had lit up when I was about to say yes, falls noticeably. "Why not?" he asks.

"I....I forgot I already made plans with someone else. Sorry."

"Really?" he raises a questioning, almost suspicious eyebrow. "And who would that be?"

I bite my lip hard. Do I want to tell him? Hell, why wouldn't I? What do I have to hide? "Um, his name is Daniel. Just another friend of mine. We have a few classes together, and—"

"Wait, hold on," he looks like he's trying to remember something. "Daniel.....Daniel Albright?"

I shouldn't feel this nervous that Cody knows his last name. And I definitely shouldn't feel as embarrassed as I do now. "Um, yeah. Do you know him?" Oh god, please don't say you've been bullied by him.

"George has talked about him. The guy from your math class, right? The one who picked on you both a ton at the beginning of the year?"

"He doesn't anymore!" I blurt out, feeling a strange need to defend Dan. "I mean....he's gotten better."

"Oh? So he's completely nice to you now?" Cody looks doubtful, almost worried for me, in fact.

"Well, I mean...." I sigh, not feeling like I have the energy to explain my complex relationship with Dan right now. "Okay, we're not really friends. I mean, he is a lot nicer now, but....I mostly tutor him. In math. That's what we're doing today, actually. He needs help with math."

Yes, I'm aware how far that is from the truth, not even considering the fact that I'm the one who doesn't know how to do math. But what am I supposed to say? That Dan's turned over a new leaf in the matter of weeks? That despite our differences, I've entrusted him with all my secrets and he's entrusted me with his, and now we're sort of tied together in ways we never thought possible? No way Cody would buy it, not when it sounds this ridiculous in my head.

"Oh," says Cody, as if that makes more sense than anything I said before. "Okay, I get it—"

"But I'm free tomorrow!" I blurt out quickly, though inside my rational mind is screaming at me. What the hell am I doing? This boy is dating my brother.

Shit. My sister. My sister!!!

"Tomorrow?" Cody asks, his whole demeanor changing in a matter of seconds. Slouching a bit in his chair, he rubs the back of his neck, not meeting my eyes. "Um, tomorrow might not be the best day."

"Why? You already made plans with....?" I trail off, almost afraid of what name is going to come out of my mouth.

"Actually, no," Cody mutters. Then adds, in a slightly lower voice, "I'm visiting my sister tomorrow. At the hospital."

"....Oh." Well shit.

"So yeah, unless you want to come with me to that...." He trails off.

I almost add in a nonchalant tone How about we try Wednesday then? But something stops me. Taking careful notice of the way he avoids meeting my eyes, of the way his normally articulate voice was almost inaudible at the mere mention of his sister, I find myself thinking back to the day he first told me about her. We had barely known each other, but he liked my poem enough to want my advice. And for some reason, he had trusted me enough to confide in me about the true meaning behind his.

"Can I ask you something?" I say out of the blue. I don't give him time to respond. "Does George know? About your sister, I mean?"

He shakes his head. "No. It hasn't really come up."

"Would you tell him, though?"

He hesitates for one....two....three....four— "I....I don't know. You're the only person in this town I've ever told."

My heart does a little flutter at this. I'm the only person he's told....

He trusts you, a little voice in my consciousness tells me. A demon voice, polluted by envy and bitterness and hatred for Rose.... the same voice that doesn't know how to use her pronouns. He trusts you more than he trusts George. He must feel something for you that he doesn't feel for him.

You just need to keep spending time with Cody for him to realize it.

Fueled by the demon voice, my mouth jumps ahead of my brain. "Do you usually go alone?"

He looks up, having begun today's assignment during my long stretch of silence. "Go where?"

"To visit your sister?"

He seems taken aback. "Y-yeah. I stopped going with my parents awhile ago. I've always hated seeing them cry. And seeing as how no one else knows....yeah, I usually go alone."

"What if I did go with you tomorrow?" My heart is racing even faster than my mind at this point, but both are completely out of control. "I know you pry weren't serious about that, but....would you be okay if I came?"

As baffled as I am by my own suggestion, Cody is even more so. "You want to come with me? To see Sunny?"

"Yeah. I mean, unless you don't want me to, which I'd totally understand. I just....I don't know. Thought maybe you could use some friendly support for once? Plus, I'd love to meet her. The beautiful girl the poem was written about. " I decide to quit my babbling before it devolves into stupidity. Let the kid answer, you idiot.

Cody smiles, nodding thoughtfully. "Yeah....I suppose that'd be okay."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I trust you. Though I must warn you, comatose people aren't very exciting."

I laugh awkwardly. "Dude, I don't care. I want to come with you."

"Alright then." He chuckles right along with me. "It's a date."

I know that it's just an expression, that he meant it ironically, since we'll be going to a hospital, and that the person he's actually dating is my freaking twin, but still my heart does a flip at the word. "Cool," I squeak. "Looking forward to it."

"You're a really good friend, Sam."

No Cody. No I'm not. I'm a shitty friend for secretly loving you, and an even shittier brother for the same reason. I'm a disgusting, selfish, horrid excuse for a human being. And yet, I still want you to love me back.

"Sam?" Cody looks concerned all of a sudden. I wonder what my face looks like. "You okay?"

"Yeah, of course," I respond, a bit too fast. "I have to go to the bathroom." And I realize that I actually do. I feel fucking disgusting.

Discreetly slipping what I need into the pocket of my sweater, I slink out of the classroom and practically bolt to the nearest girls' restroom....

Only to freeze halfway through the door at the sight of someone crying in front of the sinks.

Normally this would have made me immediately turn around and find another bathroom, except that I know this person. There's no mistaking her with that pale skin, wild red hair, and freakishly tall figure. And unfortunately, my curiosity gets the better of me before my brain can catch up, and I utter her name. "Rose?"

Gasping, Other Rose (as I've come to refer to her as in my head) rubs both her eyes before turning to look at me, as if that would do anything to hide their puffy redness. "Sorry! I didn't know anyone was in here, I was just.... Oh! Hey Sam."

It took her a bit longer to recognize me, but honestly, I'm just impressed that she didn't call me Samantha. I normally have to correct people quite a few times before they get it, and she's only met me once before. Which technically wasn't even a proper meeting. But then again, she is pretty close with my sister, apparently. Has been for who knows how long, and for all I know, they shit-talk me together all the time.

"Hey...." I greet her back with a curt nod, assessing her messy ponytail and wrinkled gym clothes. "I, uh....I take it P.E. isn't going so well?"

She breathes a sarcastic, bitter laugh. "How'd you guess?"

I shrug. "Despite what you may hear, I can be smart sometimes. Anyway, don't you have that class with my brother?" I ask casually, as if I don't have Actual Rose's entire schedule memorized.

Other Rose sighs. "Yeah. That's kind of the problem, actually."

Oh shit. "What, are you guys fighting too or something?" This concerns me, of course. Since I have no plans to talk to Rose again in the near future, my mind is set at ease by the fact that she has another friend she can confide in and trust.

Other Rose looks at me curiously. "No. And what do you mean 'too'?"

Huh. Guess they're not talking as much shit on me as I thought. "I guess Ro—ah, George didn't tell you. The two of us haven't been getting along that well lately."

She raises an eyebrow. "Really? And why's that?"

"Just...petty things." Like the fact that we like the same guy, but that she knew I liked him first and chose to date him anyway. Though when I think about it, that tidbit of drama barely scratches the surface of our problems with each other.

"Like what?" Other Rose wants to know, her voice light and questioning.

I roll my eyes. Her intentions are so obvious. "I'm not going to go into it right now, and you're clearly just trying to turn the topic away from you. Now are you going to tell me why you were crying or not?" I really shouldn't care so much, but curiosity always seems to rule over my apathy towards other people's drama.

She bites her lip, pulling at her loose hair nervously. "I suppose I could tell someone. It's becoming one of those secrets that's just bursting to get out, you know? It's getting to be painful. I don't know if I can trust you, though...."

"Oh for crying out loud, who would I tell?" I snort, not so much to be rude, but because the thought of anyone I normally talk to— which basically consists of Dan and Cody these days— being interested in this random girl's drama is laughable. Besides, gossiping doesn't really come as naturally to me as it does to the girls in this school, and even some boys.

"You can't tell anyone," she warns me anyway. "Especially not George. And I mean, never."

Her tone quickly morphs my casual curiosity into legitimate interest. Especially not George? What, does this drama involve him or something?

"Okay...." She takes a deep breath, leaning on one of the sinks for support. "First of all, I know that your brother is gay. Alright?"

I nod, like it's obvious. Because apparently this is the narrative he has officially decided to go with.

She. That she has decided to go with, Sam. ****She!****

"Right, okay. I know this. I've always known, even before he told me. But that doesn't change—" she cuts herself off, suddenly becoming very interested in the ceiling. It takes me a moment to realize that she's blinking back tears.

"Hey," I attempt a soft, caring voice. "If you don't want to tell me, that's cool—"

"No! I'm going to say it. If only to admit it to myself." Running her fingers through her tangled mess of hair again, she takes a few more breaths. "Look. I'm asexual. Okay?"

"Um....okay. Good for you, I guess?"

"And what I feel isn't sexual." She still isn't looking at me.

"....Okay? I mean, that would make sense, wouldn't it?" Maybe it's because I'm already exhausted with today, I'm tired and distracted, I feel like my abdomen is full of shattered glass, and I still need to get into a fucking stall before my jeans turn into a scene from the Battle of Antietum.... but I have no idea where she's going with any of this.

"But I feel something for him. And it's so strong that it hurts."

Oh boy, does it hurt. It's fucking killing me. I clutch my lower stomach in pain, glaring up at her. I'm almost sorry I asked by now. Get to the fucking point already.

"Sorry if I'm not following," I grunt with as much sarcasm as I can muster. "But you feel something for whom?"

Groaning, she bites her fist hard before answering. "Your fucking brother, Sam. I feel something for George."

Suddenly, in that very moment, my pain seems to vanish. I feel almost numb, in fact, except for the icy cold sensation that sweeps through my veins before it fades into warmth focused entirely in my face and palms.

"I know it's stupid. And I know that he's gay and has a boyfriend, and that I just need to get over myself—"

"No."

At my quietly uttered syllable, she pauses. "No, what? You're not going to tell him, are you?"

"No," I repeat, somehow even quieter. "No, I won't tell him. No, I won't tell anyone. No, I won't even continue talking about this with you right now. Just....no."

She blinks. "O-Okay. that's fine. I'm just glad I got it off my chest, honestly—"

"Yeah, no. Here's the thing Rosie: This—" I motion to the room around us, using it as a symbol for the conversation that just took place, "Never fucking happened. I will not tell anyone, you will not tell anyone. We will not speak of this in the future, we will not continue speaking of this now. You did not just say what you said, nor will you ever say it again. Nope, nope, fucking no."

"Uhhh, Sam? Are you okay?"

Honestly? I'm not a hundred percent sure. All I know for sure is how much I wish I could physically take every stupid high school love triangle and fucking romantic drama, stuff it all into a single canon, and shoot that canon into the sun. Because I am so fucking done with all this. Nope, nope, nope, one-hundred percent NO.

"Sam?" Other Rose tries again timidly. "Did I upset you by telling you that? Because I swear, I didn't mean to—"

"No Rosie, don't you get it? I don't care." I slam my fist into one of the sinks to emphasize my point. At the same time, I happen to catch sight of my reflection in one of the mirrors. I look fucking deranged. "When I say no, I mean NO. And by that I mean, get this drama the hell away from me, because I'm fucking done. I don't care if you like him, I don't care if Cody likes him, I don't care if every goddamn boy, girl, and gender nonconforming teen between here and the moon likes him, I don't. Give. A FUCK."

"Sam—"

"No."

"I'm not trying to—"

"No. No. No. No." I want that word to be the last word out of my mouth before I explode from maximum done-ness. I want it written on my fucking tombstone.

"Okay, okay!" says Other Rose, backing away from me with raised hands. "I get it. You don't want to be a part of this. I'm sorry I told you."

"Biggest understatement of the year," I laugh, turning to leave. "I don't want to be apart of this? I'm not touching this with a sixty-foot fucking pole, man! Neither of you are my problem or my business, so neither is this drama! Not now, not ever. Nope, nope, a hundred and fifty degrees of fucking NO."

And with that eloquent closing statement, I leave the bathroom in search of another one, trying to stop myself from drawing the whole mess out in my head:

I like Cody. Cody likes George. Other Rose likes George. And George— that is, the real Rose— likes Cody.

Jesus Christ, when will it end? And how many hearts will be broken by the time it does?

But the questions that my inner demon raises above all others is, of course, Where does this all leave me? How will this affect me? Who is going to love me?

God, has there ever been a bigger and more selfish piece of shit than Samuel Aaron Wyatt?

I can see myself in the future, standing on the edge of a bridge or with a gun to my head or a knife to my wrist, still waiting for an answer to this question.

------------

Time to make more blood.

------------

Rose

For the past week or so, Sam has been sitting by Dan in math, while I sit in a corner by myself. I watch them sometimes, out of the corner of my eye. I watch as the kid who used to bully us both now tutors him like I used to. I watch as they work and laugh together so naturally, as if they've always been friends, and I wonder when all of this happened.

Sam is having his Time of Month, as I finally figured out from his frequent trips to the bathroom. And this is the first time that I'm not actively supporting and comforting him through it. I've decided that this must be the reason why he's been so extremely depressed today. But right now, while he's with Dan, he doesn't seem that way. He actually smiles with his eyes when he looks at him. Weird.

In one of the moments where I've been staring at them for a bit too long, Sam looks up and catches my eye. I don't look away immediately, and neither does he. There are so many heavy emotions in his eyes as he stares back at me for three long seconds: guilt, apology, sadness, regret.....then anger. All before he finally looks away.

Feeling angry myself, I look back down at my completed math homework and wonder what the fuck Sam's problem is now. Is he still pissed that I'm dating Cody? If that's the reason, then he can go fuck himself. I'm finally happy, and if he really cared about me then he'd be happy for me, too.

But he doesn't care about you, I'm reminded painfully, as the memory of his vicious use of my birth name resurfaces for the thousandth time. That's already been established.

But still, I can't help but wonder....does willingly and knowingly dating his crush make me just as much of an asshole as he is in this situation? Or more so?

Suddenly, I wonder what Rose Parker would think of all this. I'm actually not sure why I haven't discussed mine and Sam's conflict yet, seeing as how I can easily do so without admitting the fact that I'm trans, which is the only thing I'm hiding from her anymore.

Why am I still hiding the fact that I'm trans, again?

As I question this, her words from earlier in gym come back to me. "I don't give a shit if he's gay, straight, bi, trans, or whatever, and you shouldn't either!"

She said it with such confidence, not to mention all that other stuff she said for me. She put her self on the line because I was too cowardly to defend myself. She always has.

God...what am I doing? I owe that girl the truth, the whole truth. And I'm going to give it to her.

Before I can chicken out, I pull out my phone.

ME: Hey Rose, are you free after school? I would love to hang out, but I'll be honest: I mostly have some shit I need to get off my chest.

Send.

As usual, she responds almost immediately.

ROSE PARKER: Not a problem. I have something to tell you too, actually. Kind of important. Wanna meet in the commons after last class? We can walk to The Corner together.

ME: Sounds perfect!

Though I do wonder what she has to tell me, I don't feel too worried about it. Whatever it is, I'm confident that it's minor compared to the bomb I'm planning to drop on her.

------------

Sam

"Here, did I do these right?" I ask, sliding my math notebook over to Dan.

He sighs. "Did you check your math like I taught you?"

"Well, yeah...."

"Then they should be right."

"Please just check them for me," I beg, like I do for each five problems I complete. "I just want to make sure."

Dan heaves another sigh, but gives in like he always does. He inspects the problem closely while I chew on the end of my pencil, desperately awaiting his affirmation.

"Wrong," he says after a few seconds, sliding the notebook back my way.

"What?!" Impossible! I was so confident that I finally had the formula down.

"Wrong," he repeats casually. "They're all wrong, actually. Wrong, wrong, wrong—"

"Okay, Donald Trump!" I snap angrily. "How about you actually tell me why they're wrong. I was so sure about these! Which part of the math did I mess up on?"

"Why don't you check them over and find out yourself?" He suggests, smirking slyly.

"I did, you jerk! I checked them twice each! I even....." I trail off when I notice that his smirk is widening into a mocking, self-satisfied grin. "....Oh, you dick."

He bursts out laughing. "I had to mess with you! They're all right, actually."

I smack him with my notebook, trying to act angry even though I'm also starting to laugh. "Asshole! You actually had me going there."

"Hey, it's your own fault. You need to learn to be more confident in your answers."

"But I'm always afraid they're wrong," I whine. "I feel like even if I think I did it right, I might have fucked up on just one thing, and it'll change everything. Or maybe Mr. Smith has a different way of solving the problems, and he'll take points off for my method. Or—"

But Dan just rolls his eyes at me unsympathetically. "Math isn't English class, you dork. That's the beauty of it. Nothing is subjective, and nothing ever changes. And if you check your work and get the same answer, you did it right. Period, the end, you're done. It's so simple. Why do you always have to make everything so complicated?"

Because life is complicated, I want to say. Because in real life, nothing is as simple as check your work and you're done. There are thousands of different factors you have to consider, and thousands more you'll never have time to consider. Life is messy and complex and there are no definite answers. Maybe that's why I've never gotten along with math. Because I'm always so busy searching for the subtext in everything that I have no patience for clean simplicity....

But I don't say any of this to Dan; I know he'll just call me a dork again. Not that that ever particularly bothers me.

"Anyway," Dan throws down his pencil and leans back in his chair. "We're still on for after school right?"

"Yeah, of course. Where are we going, anyway?"

"Dunno," He admits with a shrug. "All I know is that I've got some stuff to talk to you about."

Oh, what fresh hell is this? "'Some stuff'?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Care to clarify?"

"Not really," he says with a smirk. "That'll just ruin the surprise, won't it?"

"I hate surprises," I grumble.

Dan laughs. "Good. That'll make it more fun for me. I'll be sure to stretch out the suspense for as long as possible."

I groan. "I hate you."

Dan grins, then winks. "Love you too." He shoots back, just as the bell rings. He stands up, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. "And don't forget to bring your absolute worst attitude to our date this afternoon. Grumbly Sam is my favorite Sam!"

"Up yours," I grumble.

"That's the spirit!"

I can't help but laugh even as we part ways, and I'm left without anyone to distract me from the day's stressful events anymore. Once Dan is completely out of sight, the full weight of it all lands back on my mind's shoulders, pressing me down into a depressed slouch.

Only now, there's one more weight on the pile, as I'm left to wonder whether Dan's use of the word date was similar to Cody's use of the same word earlier. And, more importantly, how that makes me feel.