Sam

"You're....you're what?"

The venom in Dad's voice is far outweighed by his confusion, but still I flinch. I can feel the inner systems of my body-- nervous, circulatory, respiratory, all of them-- going completely and utterly haywire as the reality of what I've just done fully sets in. A significant part of me wishes that I could reach forward, grab those two words I just spat out and shove them back into my mouth, to be chewed up and swallowed before they can cause the irreversible damage I know they have already caused. That same part of me knows I should shut up now, before I make things worse.

But the other part of me-- the part that is still on a weird sort of autopilot mode-- wins again.

"Transgender," I repeat, in a confident voice that does not at all reflect the turmoil taking place inside of me. "You know, a boy born with the body of a girl. And if you guys can quit fighting for five seconds I can explain more of what that means--"

"Hold on," Mom cuts me off, shaking her head. "I don't understand. Are you saying that you want to be a boy?"

I sigh. "I'm saying that I am a boy, Mom. I always have been. And it's about time I told you."

"I...." Mom keeps shaking her head. She takes a step back from me, almost tripping over the broken shards of a plate that one of them threw when they were screaming at each other about god knows what this time. "I still don't understand."

"This is nonsense," Dad laughs all of a sudden. He doesn't seem to be taking this nearly as serious as Mom is. In fact, he looks at me like I just told him the best joke he has heard all year. "It's ridiculous. You're not a boy, Samantha. No matter how short you cut your hair. You're grounded for that, by the way."

I grit my teeth, wanting to yell at him, but my usually effortless, daring attitude is shaken by my sunken heart. I was all set for confusion, for outrage and denial. I was prepared to handle something more in line with Mom's current reaction, that stunned and unsure look. But to be simply laughed at? That's something that even all my years of lying awake at night and imagining this moment couldn't have prepared me for.

"Now why don't you run back upstairs and do your homework," Dad suggests, condescendingly. "Those grades aren't going to fix themselves. Let your mother and I get back to our conversation."

"What conversation?" I snap, my anger suddenly refueled by his mocking attitude. I flick my glare between my father and mother, who stare back at me with anger and fear respectively. "All you guys do anymore is scream at each other, you don't talk about anything! Why don't you shut up and listen to someone else for once?"

"Do not take that tone with me, young lady," Dad growls.

"I'm NOT a young lady! I'm a boy!" And just like that, I am screaming the words I have wanted to scream for years. I don't care if Rose hears. I don't care if the neighbors hear. I don't care if the entire city of Mountain Brook hears and comes at me with their pitchforks and torches. I am declaring my identity. "I. AM. A. BOY!!!"

"No you are not," Dad responds simply, laughing again. "You are a confused, fourteen-year-old girl. Jeez, I was getting ready for you to come out as lesbian one of these days, but this? This is too much...." Dad trails off with cruel, but seemingly forced laughter. "You need to get off of the internet, sweetie."

"Why aren't you listening to me?" I beg, feeling close to tears. "I just told you my biggest secret, and you're treating it like a joke!" Honestly, I would almost prefer it if he were screaming at this point. Anything but this heartless and embarrassing condescension.

Dad pinches the bridge of his nose, still smirking somewhat. "Samantha--"

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!"

A shadow passes over my father's face, all of his previous humor suddenly gone. Dad hates being yelled at; he'd much rather be the one doing the yelling. I can see his hands starting to clench into fists at his sides, and for the first time since I blurted out my confession, it occurs to me to be scared.

But in the same second that Dad takes a step towards me, he stops. Takes in a breath. Lets it out in the form of a sigh. His fists unclench and he jerks backwards, leaving the kitchen quickly.

"You know what...." I hear him mutter as he grabs his coat from the closet in the hallway. He never finishes the sentence, however. He slams the closet door loudly and the front door even louder. Mom and I are left standing frozen in the kitchen, with only the sound of tires screeching as Dad peels out of the driveway breaking our silence.

After a minute, I clear my throat. "Mom...." I begin, not entirely sure what I'm going to say next.

She saves me the trouble, holding up a firm hand. "Leave it," she says sternly. "We are not discussing this."

"But--"

"Just go to your room," she snaps, turning away from me to hide her expression. She bends down and starts picking up the broken shards of glass from the floor, and I can see that she is shaking.

I consider arguing with her, but decide that it would be pointless. My feet feel like blocks of lead as they carry me out of the kitchen and back up the stairs.

Rosie waits for me at the top of the staircase, her eyes shining with tears. I can tell that she heard every word.

"Sam," she whispers. The look on her face is one of utter disbelief. "Tell me I'm crazy. Tell me you didn't really just do that."

I hang my head in shame. I literally have nothing to say for myself.

"Well," Rose sighs, surprising me with how calm she sounds. I lift my head to see her wiping away the dampness in her eyes. "Looks like it's over." She walks away, leaving me on the stairs as she retreats to our room.

I blink, confused, and follow her. "What's over?"

"Our whole 'we do this together or not at all' plan," says Rose with a simple shrug, taking a seat at her desk. "Not that it ever meant much to you anyway, apparently."

Ouch. I flinch, her words cutting me worse than razor blades. "Rosie, I'm--"

"No," she holds up a hand to stop me. "Don't be sorry. You did what you felt like you had to--"

"I'm sorry," I blurt anyway. "It was impulsive, but that's no excuse. And if it makes you feel better....it went terribly." I say this last part with more than a hint of bitterness.

"I heard," says Rose in a monotonous voice, pulling her math textbook from her backpack. She opens it and begins working on the homework, as if it's just a normal afternoon. "But no, it doesn't make me feel better."

"And in case you didn't notice," I add, my voice still unnecessarily defensive. "I didn't out you."

"That doesn't make me feel better either."

I stare at the back of her head as she continues to work silently, a large lump forming in my throat. What does she want me to say? What else can I say?

I stand there in silence for a few awkward minutes, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. She pays me no mind, continuing to work through whatever math problems we were assigned today.

It's unnerving.

"Alright," I finally mutter, clearing the lump from my throat. "How mad are you?"

"I'm not really that mad, actually."

I blink. "Huh? You're not?"

"I'm not." She still doesn't look at me though. I can see that she has already made decent progress on the homework, answering the problems one after the other like they're nothing.

"Are you sure?"

Rose hesitates this time, which makes my heart speed up in my chest, but then she sighs and turns her chair to face me again. "Yes Sam, I'm sure. What good would me being mad do, anyway? It's not like you can turn back time and undo coming out.""

Well, she has a point there. And she doesn't seem to be mad, which is why I want nothing more than to believe her and let it go. But something about the tone of her voice, her too-vacant expression, and her earlier comment about me 'not caring anyway' just makes me afraid to drop the subject.

"I'm sorry," I continue, even as she turns back to her homework. (I wonder how many times one person can say the same two words before they become meaningless?) "But I can't erase this feeling that I just committed an enormous fuck-up. I need you to be honest with me, I'd much rather know if I've hurt you than be left wondering--"

She cuts me off in the middle of my shaky rambling, and I only notice that her fists are clenched when she slams one of them on her desk. "Sam!" she snaps. "It's fine. Am I a little irritated, yes, of course! But it's done, there's no taking it back, it's time to let it go and move on, for Christ's sake!"

I take a step back, astonished by her outburst.

Immediately, however, she looks apologetic. "Look, I'm sorry I snapped. But you have to trust me Sam, I'm not mad at you. It's okay."

I bite my lip, unable to erase the urge to clarify one more time. "You promise you're not mad?"

"I promise, dude." To my surprise, she even laughs a little. "Believe me, I'll get over it. We've been through worse. I'm not mad at you."

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

Rose

I'm pretty fucking furious actually.

The truth is, I want to wring Sam's neck for this. Making me feel so shitty for wanting to come out at school without him, only for him to go behind my back and come out to our fucking parents without me. I'm so mad that I can't even look directly at him as I lie through my teeth, saying that "I'll get over it." I'm still seeing red even as Sam is finally reassured and leaves me alone, and my anger is still a burning fire in my chest by the time I'm laying in bed that night, staring at the ceiling as my brother snores across the room.

But I have no plans to let him know this.

No matter how enraged I feel, I am forced to consider the benefits of this situation. First of all, I am now free to come out to whomever I want, however I want, without having to feel guilt. If I feel up to it tomorrow, I can tell Lucas that I'm trans first thing in the morning. I can tell Faith, too, the girl who's been fairly nice to me in baking class. I can even go up to all of my teachers personally and demand that they start calling me Rose, and Sam has no right to feel hurt or angry when I do it without consulting him. Not after what he did.

And the second benefit, even more rewarding than the first, has to do with Sam doing me a huge service by just outing himself instead of both of us. Now, I'm free to come out whenever I want. I can spend time gauging our parents' reactions to Sam's confession before dropping my own bombshell, making sure that my coming out goes as smoothly as possible instead of being reckless and impulsive about it like Sam. Honestly, when I really think about it, this whole thing couldn't have turned out better for me.

So then why can't I sleep?

-----

"God dammit," Sam mutters out of nowhere on our way to school the next morning. "Fuck. Shit, god dammit, fuck."

I'm so focused on not falling asleep while I walk, staring intently at my feet as I put one in front of the other, that it takes me a minute before I ask, "What's wrong?"

"I have a history test today that I completely forgot to study for," he sighs. "I am so gonna fail."

"Maybe you can cram a bit this morning," I suggest in a groggy voice, trying to be helpful.

"I guess I can try. Also, did you get any sleep last night? You sound like a drunk person."

At least I don't look like one, I think to myself, not responding to him right away. Thank god for makeup, which I used plenty of this morning to give me the appearance of a happier, more alert person. And I'm glad that I can finally start wearing it on a daily basis. I no longer care enough to even be scared.

"I think I'm just stressed," I respond finally. "Big day today."

"Why, do you have a test today, too?" Sam laughs. "I'm sure you'll do fine. You never have to study for anything."

"No, that's not it," I answer, but I don't explain to him what it is. And he doesn't ask.

Dan meets up with us halfway to school, as usual. "Morning, losers."

Despite his cheery attitude, I can't help but grimace when I see him. His face is puffy with still-fresh bruises, and he looks like he can barely walk. "Dude. You look awful."

"Well, to be fair, I did get the everliving shit beat out of me yesterday," he says casually. "But whatever. At least it snowed last night."

"What does that have to do with--"

But before I can complete my thought, Dan stops by a patch of grass and, in a motion that looks agonizing for him, bends down to grab a handful of the gray slosh that counts for snow in Alabama. He promptly presses it to his face. "Aw, yeah. That's the stuff."

"Eww," I mutter.

Sam just laughs.

I leave the two of them to their banter for the rest of our walk, zoning out as I let myself imagine how today is going to turn out. Will I have less friends at the end of the day than I do at the beginning? Will Sam be one of the friends I lose for doing this?

Will what I'm about to do harm me more than it will save me?

Through the front doors at school, I take in the scene around me. It's the usual: rowdy kids in their various friend groups, laughing and talking in loud voices about which dumb celebrity did what crazy thing, or complaining about tests they have today, or heatedly discussing whatever idiotic comment Donald Trump made last week. It's all so painfully generic and banal.

And not a single one of them, I would bet, is plagued by the same fears as me in this moment.

"Rosie, you look like you're about to pass out," Sam comments.

"I'm fine." My response is curt and snappy, making him flinch. I switch the shoulder straps of my backpack, awkwardly. "Just....thinking."

"About what? Are you coming out today or something?" Dan asks in a joking tone.

But as usual, he's right on the money. "I'm going to the art room," I tell them both, not bothering to answer his question.

"Hang on--"

"I'll see you guys later." I cut Dan off before he can jump to anymore conclusions. I don't know how much Sam wants to tell his boyfriend about yesterday's events, but I've decided to leave it up to him. There's someone else I need to have a conversation with right now.

When I arrive at my favorite classroom in the entire school, I'm disappointed to see that, although the door is open, Miss Vaughn isn't here. However, that disappointment is quickly replaced by combined excitement and anxiety when I see that Lucas has already taken a seat at our table, and is quietly working on his project.

"Hey kid," Lucas greets me with a big smile when he sees me. "How are you on this cold and dreary morning?"

I say nothing for a moment, not moving to sit down, but just stand in the doorway uncertainly. My eyes dart to the window, which depicts the very morning that Lucas just described. The sky is impossibly gray, and the spindly, leafless branches on the trees shake in the chilly wind. Though it doesn't normally get as cold down here as it does in the northern states, this winter has definitely been colder than most.

Even now, standing inside our well-heated school building, I shiver. Though truthfully, it might be nerves more than actual temperature. Today, January 8th, 2017, is going to be a turning point in my young life.

And the more I think about it, the more I start to shake.

"Hello? Anybody home?"

I jump, blinking back into reality. "Huh?"

Lucas laughs. "I take it you're not all there this morning."

"Sorry," I blush under my makeup. "Did you say something to me?"

"Yeah. How are you doing?."

"Oh. Um...." I stutter lamely as I take my seat across from him. "I'm trans. Oh!" I clap a hand over my mouth. "I mean....ah. Fuck." I hit myself in the forehead hard, my blush so deep I'm sure it's actually showing through my foundation. You had ONE FUCKING JOB, Rose! Two words: 'I'm fine'. How the hell did you just manage to fuck that up--

"Cool," says Lucas nonchalantly, interrupting my silent self-deprecation. "I have ADHD."

"What?"

"Oh, sorry," he chuckles. "I thought we were taking turns saying things that are obvious."

I open my mouth, but no words come out. I can only stare at him, blinking in utter shock.

"Anyway, would you mind grabbing some red paint from the storage closet? I've been in this chair for half and hour and don't feel like getting up."

Though apart of me still wants to demand more of a reaction from him after all the worrying I've done, I'm briefly distracted by his question. "Wait, half an hour? Was Miss Vaughn here to open the door for you?"

"We have an agreement this semester," he explains, his smile falling a bit for the first time. His eyes move away from mine, glancing down at his feet "I, uh....I struggle getting things done in class sometimes. She says I can come in early on Wednesdays during the teachers' staff meeting if I want the extra time."

"Oh. That's good. I mean, that she lets you do that."

"Yeah."

For several awkward seconds, the only sounds that break our silence are the quiet ticking of the clock and the low hum of the heater. Finally, Lucas says, "So....you wanna grab me that red paint?"

"Oh! Right." I stumble up out of my seat and to the storage closet, and use my time out of his sight to let the shock overtake me. First, the fact that I basically just pulled a Sam and carelessly blurted out my biggest secret like it was nothing. Even though it was an accident, it's hard to resist the urge to bang my head against one of these shelves a few times.

And second, Lucas's sheer lack of reaction to the statement, as well as his own casual confession. I'm so baffled by both that I don't even think to wipe the surprise off my face until I return to our table with the paint, and Lucas cocks his head at me. "You okay?" he asks, taking the bottle from me.

I realize then that my mouth is still gaping a bit. "Uh, I-I....I just didn't really....I mean, I didn't plan..." I stammer, trying to put into words exactly what I'm feeling. Unfortunately, that has never been one of my strong suits. I opt for simply sitting down and putting my head in my hands to hide my embarrassment.

"Hey," says Lucas, reaching over to lift my head up with both of his hands. "Don't worry about it. You didn't have to tell me, but I'm glad you did. I didn't really plan to tell you my thing either. It's just...nice to get things off your chest sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah," I mutter, still not making eye contact with him as I hunch down in my seat. "I guess."

When I finally summon the courage to look at him again, his head is bent low over his canvas as he uses gentle brushstrokes to paint on the red I just brought him. His long black hair hangs down like a curtain, preventing me from seeing both his face and his artwork. I kind of wish we were closer than we are, so I wouldn't feel weird about reaching over and parting his locks, allowing me a better view of both.

"So if you don't mind me asking," Lucas starts carefully, without lifting up his head. "What's your girl name?"

I smile at the innocence of the question. "It's Rose."

Lucas finally looks up, his paintbrush paused and a curious expression on his face. As if he's trying to remember something "Rose....hey, isn't that the name of that girl who went psycho last semester and got expelled after attacking all those--"

"I didn't even know her!" I blurt defensively, astonished at the lie that spills so easily from my lips. My face warms with redness yet again."I mean....it's just a coincidence. I just...like the name. That's all."

"Oh, okay. Cool."

I sigh, slamming my head back down onto the table. Could this conversation get anymore awkward?

"Is it really that obvious?" I ask him without thinking.

"What?"

"That I'm trans."

"Oh. I mean, yeah. To me, anyway."

I suppose I should be happy about this, that he was able to guess my identity so easily, but all I feel is more vulnerable. While half of me is hoping that others in the school will also make this assumption, so that I don't have to tell them, the other half of me is worried that they will. I think I am finally beginning to understand Sam's conflicting feelings about coming out.

"Why, does that offend you?" Lucas asks.

I look up to see him gazing at me with a worried expression. "I guess not," I sigh. "And I suppose I should thank you for being so chill about it. I want to officially come out today, and I have no idea what to expect...." I trail off with nervous laughter.

Lucas, however, stares at me with an uncharacteristically serious expression. "Don't thank me for doing the bare minimum of what is expected from a decent human being," he tells me. "Don't you ever thank anyone for basic human decency."

The sternness in his voice makes my breath catch in my throat, and I have to clear it before responding. "Right. Okay."

He gives me a nod, then returns to his painting. I start to wonder if I should bring mine out, so that I can at least look like I've been productive here when Miss Vaughn returns from her meeting.

But I have to clear up one last thing.

"By the way," I say in a low voice. "Your thing wasn't obvious at all."

It takes him a minute, but Lucas finally seems to register my voice when he slowly lifts his head and says, "Huh?"

"You told me you had ADHD," I remind him. "And you said it was as obvious as me being trans. I had no idea, actually."

"Really?" Lucas seems almost as shocked as I felt by his uncaring reaction to my coming out. "That's a first. I take meds and everything, but people usually seem to know. Or at least, they treat me like they do."

"Maybe I'm just unobservant," I mutter, which of course, is entirely possible. "But either way, I would never treat you any differently.

"....Thanks."

I smile at him. "Don't thank me for common human decency."

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

Sam

I definitely failed that history test. But honestly, at this moment, another F added to the vast collection on my transcript is the least of my worries.

Probably my biggest worry right now has to be the frightening level of my anxiety, which has not gone down since I came out to my parents. It doesn't help that vivid memories from yesterday continue to plague me throughout the morning: My mother's face, my dad's condescending laughter, the subtle tears in Rosie's eyes....and then I start thinking about how Rose has been acting this morning, and I really start to panic. I know my sister like I know myself, and I am positive that she is coming out to the school today.

Even gym, a period I normally look forward to, is hard to get through this morning.

We have to do our run inside today, due to the weather being so unbearably cold and windy. Everyone except for Dan, that is, whom the coaches make sit out due to him being injured.

"I can still run!" He argues, wincing even as Coach Hill leads him by the arm to the bleachers.

"No way, kid," says the coach. "You can barely walk, and we're not getting our butts sued by your parents if you get anymore injuries."

Dan mumbles something about not having parents, but makes his way to the sidelines after shooting me an apologetic glance.

I wave my hand as if to say not to worry about it, but inside I feel majorly disappointed. I was counting on this run with him to help calm me down.

On my own, the run sucks. My chest is hurting so bad from anxiety, that I can only jog short distances before I lose my breath and have to stop. I end up finishing my mile at eleven-and-a-half minutes.

"Yikes, Sam," Coach Wheeler remarks when I finish. "Not quite what I've grown to expect from you. You having an off day or something?"

"You could say that," I huff, clutching my side as I lean against the wall, drenched in sweat. "God...it's hot in here."

"Go drink some water." Coach Wheeler orders me. "Then come straight back. We have more fitness tests after this."

I groan, glancing longingly at the bleachers where Dan sits, slumped over and looking bored. He gives me a small wave, smiling with just his lips. I wonder what he's thinking about, all alone over there.

"Go on, Sam!" Wheeler smacks my shoulder lightly. "Quit staring at your boyfriend!"

"Okay, okay! Jeez, woman."

I don't end up getting to speak to Dan until the end of the hour, but even then I don't tell him. I have decided to save our serious conversation for lunch time, when I can talk to everyone at once.

------

Dan

One.

Not being able to talk to Sam during gym was hell, but it wasn't nearly bad enough to excuse my two trips to the bathroom during the hour.

I know, I know. Nothing's that bad. I have no excuse. I am simply a shit person.

Two.

At this point, I keep the razor blade in the front right pocket of my skinny jeans. It just makes for easy access throughout the day. Even when wearing gym shorts, my bathroom trips were simple. I would just go through the locker room, grab the blade out of my jeans, and take it with me into a stall. I ran it four times across a bare patch of skin under my shirt, held a damp paper towel to the wounds for a minute or so, then returned the blade to my locker on my way out.

Bloodstains are never a worry, thanks to my all-black shirts.

Three.

Back on the bleachers, I watched Sam intensely. Looking at him is about all that can make me smile these days, I'm so fucking depressed. When he looked my way, I would give him as reassuring of a smile as I could muster, though he never smiled back. I wonder what he was thinking about. He seemed to have a harder time running than usual. I'd like to think that it's because I wasn't there with him, but I'm trying not to be so narcissistic. There must be another reason.

I wonder what he was thinking about.

He caught me briefly after class for a quick hug, and a "see you at lunch!" which was about all we had time for. I winced when he hugged me, but I'm sure he thought nothing of it. He thinks it's bruised ribs from the fight yesterday. I wonder how long I can get away with blaming my constant pain on that fight. Probably for a couple weeks, at least.

And four.

I inhale deeply after the last cut, hissing in pain. Shit, I went deep with that one; I don't even have to pinch the wound for blood to come beading down my ribs like condensation down a water glass. It hurts.

"No shit, Sherlock," I whisper to myself, taking the paper towel I dampened before entering the stall and pressing it firmly onto my skin. The blood absorbs quickly through the sheet, leaking onto the other side. I might actually need a bandage for this one, it's so bad.

But it's not like I can go to the nurse for something like this without suspicions rising, so instead I hold the paper towel to it for as long as I can before pulling my shirt back down over the mess I've made. I'm already late to class.

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

Rose

"Cody," I whisper in dead silence during English class, when we're supposed to be focusing on the first act of Romeo and Juliet.

"What?" he whispers back, even quieter.

"I'm trans," I answer with a smile. I notice that it's getting easier every time I say it.

Cody turns his head slowly, giving me a look like I've gone insane. "Um...I know."

I giggle. "I know you know. I just felt like saying it. Seeing as how I've never officially told you myself."

"Um....okay," Cody mutters, shaking his head. "Weirdo."

But just as I hoped would happen, more than a couple of kids nearby turned their heads ever so slightly in my direction. I can only guess that they think they heard what I said, but are convincing themselves that they heard something else.

Only one is brave enough to actually ask.

"Hey," says Lisa Grimshaw, a small girl who sits in front of me and who has always mostly ignored me. "Sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but....did you just say you're trans?"

Even as I smile at her politely, I can feel all of the symptoms of my normal selective mutism beginning to overtake me: the tightening chest, the closing throat, the all-to-real feeling of words physically vanishing from the base of my vocal chords....

No, I tell myself, clearing my throat to make way for an answer. You are past this.

"Actually, yes," I tell her. I can almost hear Cody's mouth drop, but I don't look at him.

Lisa frowns, looking like she's processing this. "So....like Caitlyn Jenner?"

I sigh. Of course that's the celebrity she chooses to go with. "Yep. Like Caitlyn Jenner."

She nods slowly, and I can feel myself bracing for all kinds of negative reactions. Will she laugh at me? Act disgusted? Maybe even throw a couple of slurs at me?

"Huh. Good for you, I guess." And with that, she turns back to her reading.

My smile widens, and I want to cheer in celebration. YES! Counting Lucas's, that makes two non-transphobic reactions today. I can feel my confidence growing.

"Dude...." Cody whispers beside me, still shocked. "What--?"

"Wait, who's trans?" Asks the girl next to Lisa. Courtney, I think her name is.

"Him," Lisa points back to me, unabashedly. "Or her, I guess. Whichever."

Courtney looks back, giving me an obvious once-over. I wave at her nervously.

"Hm." She says. "Wouldn't have guessed."

"Wouldn't have guessed what?" Asks Bryce Sanders from across the isle.

I wince this time, preparing for the worst. Even though Bryce has never been one of my regular bullies, he has definitely been known for sitting back and laughing at the cruel acts of Edgar's gang.

"That George is a tranny," Courtney explains to him without hesitation.

"Really?" says Bryce, raising his eyebrows at me.

Though my goal was to be unashamed about this, I can't help but look down to avoid his ogling.

"Hey, um, FYI," Cody jumps in unexpectedly. "You shouldn't use the word 'tranny'. Its technically a slur, and it's really offensive. Also, you could get you in huge trouble for saying it."

"Oh shit," says Courtney. "I didn't know that."

"Is that, like, the N word for trans people?" Lisa asks curiously.

"Uh, sorta?" says Cody, looking at me for reassurance.

I shrug.

"Whoops," says Courtney. "My bad."

"So then," says Bryce, pointing at me before asking his next question. "You're a 'she' now?"

I wish I could say that my next words came out all proud and confident-sounding, and loud enough for the entire class to hear because I simply refuse to hide any longer.

But honestly, it took every ounce of my willpower to even summon a nod, as all of the words that I had forced out of my throat just a moment ago chose to crawl back down the second Bryce Sanders spoke up. Just like that, I was a coward again.

But luckily, the job was already done, and my goal would soon be accomplished. In no time flat the high school grapevine would begin to work it's magic. By the end of the hour, everyone in this room would know, and by the end of the day, everyone in my grade. A couple more days and the entire school, plus the majority of the faculty would know that there was at least one transgender student walking the halls of Mountain Brook High.

How long before they know there are two is completely up to Sam.

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

Sam

By the time lunch rolls around, I am honestly starting to wonder if I need to go to the ER. My heart is working like an Olympic sprinter, my forehead is hot, and the sweat collecting underneath my arms is ridiculous.

And Rose, who had been the one who looked like she was going to faint this morning, now looks positively gleeful as she sits at our table with Cody, both laughing when I arrive. Once again, our positions are flipped.

I practically throw myself down into my seat, exhausted just from going through the line. I set my tray down so hard, applesauce splashes across the table.

"Jeez Sam, are you okay?" Cody asks, clearly concerned.

"Nope," I say simply, taking a large bite out of my pizza. It tastes like nothing and feels like cardboard in my mouth.

"What's wrong?" Rosie asks. She is clearly trying to sound like she cares, but my sister has never been a good actress. "Are you sick?"

"....Kind of."

"Are you going to throw up?" Her voice remains flat and disinterested. No matter what she says, she is obviously still at least slightly mad at me about yesterday.

I gulp down the chewed up cardboard, grimace and push away the rest of my food. "Possibly."

"Do you need to go to the nurse?" asks Cody.

"Not unless she can give me Xanax, which I'm sure she can't."

"Oh shit," Rose mutters, the truth finally dawning on her. Her look of feigned compassion immediately turns into a more real one. She is all-too-familiar with this severe brand of anxiety, though usually she is the one who is experiencing it. "Sam, what is it? Did something happen?"

Before I can come up with an answer, two people arrive at the table simultaneously. One is Dan, of course, and just the sight of him makes me breathe a sigh of relief.

"Hey guys," Dan greets us. "What's going--" But he is cut off abruptly by a crushing hug from me.

"Ow," he mutters even through his laughter as he hugs me back. Clearly the force of my hug is causing him pain, but I don't care. I need him so bad right now.

"Sorry," I tell him, though I don't loosen my grip one bit. I grab his leather jacket into my fists to pull him closer and breathe in his delicious peppermint scent. "I just....need you. You calm me down."

"Aww," Dan chuckles, pulling me in closer, even though I can feel him tense up in pain. "I'm glad."

Yikes, even his voice sounds strained. I decide that it's time to release him, even though I don't want to. And I finally let go just in time for him to look over my shoulder and say, "Don't mean to be rude but....who are you?"

I turn around to see who Dan is talking to, and finally notice the skinny kid with shoulder-length black hair and an emo style that could rival even my boyfriend's. He stands back awkwardly, holding his lunch tray in both hands, and seems to be looking more at Rose than the rest of us.

"Um, sorry. Uh...." He stammers nervously, still looking only at Rose. "Can I still sit here?"

You'd have to be blind to miss the way my sister's eyes light up. "Of course!" She then promptly pushes aside my tray and offers him the seat next to her that was formerly mine.

Looking relieved, the kid takes it, completely missing how I glare at him.

"Everyone," says Rose to us all. "This is Lucas. He's in my art class, and he's super cool. I invited him to join us for lunch today, I hope that's okay."

It kind of has to be, now that you've already invited him, I think to myself bitterly, shooting a death glare at my sister. Unfortunately she doesn't catch sight of it, she's so busy staring at this dumb boy who is clearly her latest crush.

Dan, however, notices my distaste. He mouths, You okay?

I shrug, turning my scowl to the floor. As if my anxiety wasn't already bad enough.

Cody, ever the polite one, is the first to introduce himself. "Cody Foster," he says, standing up and extending a hand to the boy. "Nice to meet you."

Lucas shakes Cody's hand with all the awkwardness of someone who has never shaken a hand before in his life. "Um, hi. Jeez, am I at a job interview now?"

Cody laughs, but looks regretful as he sits back down. "Sorry, ignore me. I'm just....weird."

"Yeah he is," Dan mutters in agreement. "I'm Dan, by the way. No need to shake my hand or anything, I'm sure Cody's already hired you."

Lucas laughs a loud, cackling laugh. "You're funny. I like you, Dan."

Dan rolls his eyes, but can't hide the fact that he's flattered.

Lucas looks at me next, because clearly it's my turn.

I bite my lip to calm myself, glad that no one but Dan notices my restless leg syndrome underneath the table. It's not that I have anything against this new kid whom I don't even know. It's more just the fact that....well, I don't know him. I've grown accustomed to our comfortable little friend group consisting of me and the only three people in this world whom I feel like I can be myself around.

Now, by bringing in this new person without consulting any of us, Rose is basically forcing me back in the closet in front of my own friends. And I fucking hate her for that right now.

I clear my throat in an effort to not sound pissed off when I speak. "I'm Sam," I mutter, failing miserably at my goal. "George's twin. Uh, if you can't tell."

Lucas opens his mouth, but Rose cuts him off before he can speak. "You don't have to worry about all of that, Sam," she says with a smile. "He knows that I'm Rose."

"What?" Dan and I exclaim in shock at the same time.

"Yep," says Rose, proudly. "And he doesn't care, do you Lucas?"

Lucas shakes his head, taking a huge bite of his pizza to avoid having to speak words. I don't know the first thing about this kid, but he clearly has enough social intuition to guess that something is about to go down between the four of us, and wants to stay out of it.

"Is that why you went to the art room so quickly this morning?" Dan asks, narrowing his eyes. "You planned to tell him all along?"

Rose nods. "Yep. And he's not all I told. At least half our grade should know by now, right Cody?"

Cody flinches under the force of both mine and Dan's glares. "Well yeah," he says to Rose. "Especially after that stunt you pulled in English. I'd guess that quite a few people know by now."

"Are you fucking serious?" Dan asks in disbelief.

"Hey, what are you guys so pissed about?" Cody asks us, making it clear whose side he is on. "Rosie's fine with it. This is what she wants--"

"But it's not what Sam wants!" Dan jumps immediately to my defense. "They had an agreement."

Rose turns to me slowly, her expression humorous. "So I'm guessing you didn't tell him about yesterday then, did you Sammy?" She asks, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

"What?" Dan asks me, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What happened yesterday?"

"I'm sorry, should I go?" Lucas whispers to Rose, appearing awkward.

"No Lucas, please stay. Sam, why don't you go ahead and tell him?"

"I was getting to it," I snap at her through gritted teeth. I turn to Dan, who is staring at me with expectant eyes, and suddenly feel very aware of how warm it is in this stuffy cafeteria.

I begin by gripping my own knees under the table to ease my shakiness. "Yesterday, on an impulse....I came out to my parents."

Shock overtakes the confusion on Dan's face, quickly followed by anger. "And you're just now telling me?!"

"I was working my way up to it," I mutter, guiltily. "I've been so anxious about it all day, though. Too anxious to even think about it. The thing is....they didn't really take it well. And I haven't talked to them about it since, so I can't stop thinking about their initial reactions. Dan....I completely regret it. I wish I hadn't done it like I did. I wish I would've waited...." I trail off as I can feel myself beginning to cry, and I don't want to do it in front of this strange new kid.

Dan softens immediately, wrapping his arms around me and hugging me close. "So....we're not mad at Rose then?"

I shake my head no. "She did what she had the right to do. She has always had the right."

Dan nods, then looks at my sister. "Sorry for snapping at you."

"No big deal," says Rose. Her own voice is heavy with guilt, and I look up through blurry eyes to find her looking at me. "Sam....I'm so sorry. I didn't know you regretted it that much."

"I do, Rosie," I sigh. "I really fucking do."

The table is silent for a few minutes, and I continue to lean into Dan's chest as he holds my shaking form. "Shhh, calm down," he whispers to me. "It's okay. You're okay." The softness of his voice-- so different from his usual tone-- starts to calm me.

Meanwhile, Cody and Rose eat in awkward silence. I think we are all falling under the slow realization that we probably just made a terrible first impression for Lucas.

Lifting my head up and wiping my eyes, I decide to try to smoothing things over for the poor kid, who probably feels extremely awkward right about now.

"Sorry about all of that," I mutter in Lucas's direction, only to see the kid taking large bites out of his lunch, hardly paying attention to any of us.

"Don' worry 'bout it," he responds with his mouth full. He swallows before adding, "Hey, are you gonna eat your brownie?"

I throw a questioning glance at Rose, who shrugs, before sliding Lucas my entire lunch tray.

"Sam," Dan mutters disapprovingly. "You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry," I sigh, leaning back into his chest. "Too anxious to eat."

"Take a deep breath, Sam," Cody urges me. "Just because Rose is coming out at school, doesn't mean you need to."

"Doesn't it?"

"It really doesn't," Rose assures me in her sweetest voice, reaching across the table to take my hand. "I promise Sam, everything is going to be oka--"

"Sweet holy mother-fucking christ," Lucas blurts, making all of our heads snap up. But he is simply invested in his food."....These brownies are the shit. Guess school lunches really can do it right sometimes."

Dan, Cody, Rose, and I all give each other looks of utter bewilderment....but also amusement.

Maybe we could use Lucas at our table after all.

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

Rose

After lunch we all split off in seemingly much better moods than before. All thanks to Lucas, whose goofy antics had us rolling for the majority of the period.

"Nice to meet you, Lucas," says Cody before heading off to his next class with Sam. "Will we see you tomorrow?"

"Uhhh, I don't know," Lucas responds, looking at me for confirmation. "Will you?"

"You're invited back, if that's what you're asking," Cody answers for me. "You seem pretty cool. Right guys?"

Dan looks at my brother, who is still tucked under his arm. "Yeah, I think so. Sam?"

Sam shrugs, but manages a small smile and some eye contact at least. "I guess. If you can put up with our drama, anyway."

Lucas grins. "Sweet."

My grin matches his as I feel myself release a breath that I didn't realize I had been holding for the entire lunch period. When I invited Lucas to join us for lunch this morning, I was so preoccupied with worrying about what he would think of my crazy friends, that I didn't realize how concerned I was about what my friends would think of the eccentric Lucas. I'm just glad that it worked out both ways.

"Man, it was nice to meet them,"Lucas comments as he joins me on my walk to gym class. "They all seem really cool."

"You're not just saying that are you?" I ask, needing the reassurance.

Lucas shakes his head, flopping his long hair around. "No, believe me. I'm a shitty liar. And anyways, they've gotta be cool if they hang out with you."

I roll my eyes, ducking my head to hide my blush. My thankfully-overgrown hair falls down over my eyes. "Yeah. I guess they're alright."

"Especially that Dan kid," Lucas laughs. "Boy, was he a riot. You know, I think he was in speech with me last semester, but I never talked to him. I'll be honest with you, I always had him pegged as a douchebag, actually."

"Well, that was my first impression of him, too," I admitted. "It kinda takes getting to know him to see him differently."

We reach the gymnasium among a throng of students, some of whom I notice immediately are looking at me funny. I can't help but notice Edgar and Warren standing near the entrance to the locker room, looking as if they had just found out their final exams were cancelled. I've never seen those brutes look so thrilled. Their matching smiles send a jolt of anxiety to my chest. They know.

Of course they know. How could they not? The news is spreading faster than the Black Death in the fourteenth century, just like I had meant for it to. Everything is going exactly according to plan.

But those smiles-- shark-like grins paired with evil, glinting eyes-- make my breath catch in my throat. The longer I look at them, the more I can feel myself about to spiral into a memory that I don't want to return to because it didn't happen, it didn't happen, it didn't happen....

"You okay, kid?"

Lucas's concerned tone pulls me out of my spiral before I start going down, and I quickly gain control of myself. Lucas knows a lot about me for only having met me two days ago, but he doesn't know about my panic attacks yet. Let's see how long we can keep it that way.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assure him in as convincing a tone as I can manage. "Anyway, thanks for walking me to class. You didn't have to."

"Yeah, I probably shouldn't have." He smiles sheepishly, pushing his hair back. "My class is on the other side of the school."

"Lucas!"

He shrugs as he turns away. "Hey, it's cool. I'll see you in our food class later. Uh, whatever it's called."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "You mean Baking?"

"Pfft, whatever. I just signed up for the free food, TBH."

I laugh. "I don't doubt that." I give him a wave, making sure that he is all the way around the corner before I head to the locker room.

Alright, Rosie. Let's get this over with.

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

Sam

Journalism class seems to pass by in the blink of an eye, which I can only attribute to my fear of going home. Cody spends the period trying to comfort me silently by scrawling supportive messages in my notebook while Mr. Neely crunches Wheat Thins through his lecture, but I find it difficult to devote my attention to either of them. I'm too lost in my own head, utterly consumed by imagined scenarios of what could happen after school.

Maybe Mom and Dad will confront me about it; they might try to tell me again that I'm just a confused teenager, and ground me from the internet before telling me that they never want to hear about this transgender stuff again. Or maybe they'll ignore the subject completely, just pretend that yesterday never happened.

I honestly don't know which would hurt more.

When the bell rings, Cody taps my shoulder. "Hey, I won't see you for the rest of he day. Are you gonna be okay?"

"We'll see," I tell him honestly. "I've been meaning to check on you though. How was yesterday?"

"What?"

"Yesterday was Tuesday," I acknowledge. "You see Sunny on Tuesdays. Is everything, uh....okay on that front?"

Cody sighs. "They haven't pulled the plug yet, if that's what you're asking. I'll let you know when they do. Now if it's okay, I don't really want to talk about Sunny with you anymore."

I lean back, a bit offended. "Why?"

"I just....I don't want to talk about her at all, okay?" He snaps. "Sometimes I regret telling you about her in the first place. And anyway, don't get preoccupied worrying about me. It's you who has the important stuff going on right now." He throws his backpack over his shoulder and starts to head for the door. "Text me when you get home. I want to know what happens with your parents."

The stubborn little shit that I am, I grab on to his backpack to stop him from leaving quickly. "Wait Cody. If you don't want me to ask about your sister anymore, I respect that. But don't you ever think that my problems are more important than yours. I care about what happens in your life too. Okay?"

Cody lifts his head, but still is careful not to meet my eyes. "Sure Sam. Whatever. Text me later, I have to get to class." He yanks his backpack out of my grasp and rushes off without another word.

-----

"Hey Sammy boy," Dan greets me when I get to math, his feet up on my usual seat next to him to save it. "You doing better?"

"A little." I lean down to give him a tight hug, loosening up when I feel him wince in my arms. "Ugh, you being injured is so annoying. I can't hug you anymore."

"Of course you can!" Dan protests, looking almost guilty. He pulls me back to him. "I can take the pain. I've been through worse."

As much as I don't want to, I pull away. "No Dan. I'll wait for you to heal. I don't want to hurt you anymore that you already are. I should fucking kill that John Walker kid for messing you up this bad, though."

"No way!" says Dan angrily. "You're not going near that monster son of a bitch. I'll get my own revenge."

"Hey Dan," says a random blonde girl walking into the room with her friend. The singsong voice with which she says my boyfriend's name puts me on high alert immediately. "I see you survived getting pummeled by John Walker yesterday. Way to go."

"And not looking too shabby either," adds her friend, smiling at Dan as they walk by to take seats on his other side. "In fact, I think those bruises make you look even hotter." Both girls break into a fit of giggles.

I clench my fists, ready to lay into these bitches, but Dan puts a gentle hand on mine under the desk. "Don't you two usually sit in front of us?" He asks, his voice irritable.

"We wanted to sit next to you today," Blondie responds, her painted red lips stretched into a grin. "Thought it'd be nice to get to know you. I'm Angie."

"I'm Carly," adds the second girl, batting her long, clearly fake eyelashes

"Nice to meet you," Dan responds, though his tone is still irritated. "Please get away from me."

The girls laugh annoyingly. "Oh Dan! You are funny."

"Wasn't trying to be."

"Come on. We just want to talk," Carly begs in a whiny voice, making a pouty face. "Angie thinks you're cute."

"Shut up, Carly!" Angie giggles, blushing.

"What? It's true."

"Um, hello?" I speak up at last, holding up mine and Dan's still-conjoined hands as a hint.

Angie and Carly both look stunned. "Wait, you guys are actually dating?"

"Duh," says Dan. "Two months now. So I'll say it again. Go away."

Carly gets up immediately, but Angie stops just long enough to say, "You know she's going to come out as lesbian any day now, right?"

"Holy shit, just leave us alone," I growl.

Dan throws a pencil at her.

"Daniel, I saw that!" says Mr. Smith, walking into class at that exact moment. "Pick that up before I give you detention."

When the bell rings and Smith has started the lesson, I say to Dan in a low voice, "What the hell was that about?"

"No idea," he sighs. "But it's been happening all day."

"What?" I can't help but get even more pissed off thinking of other annoying bitches in his other classes flirting with him while I'm not there to stop them. "Why? Because of the fight?"

"I guess. It blows my fucking mind, though. Like, I literally got my ass handed to me yesterday, and chicks are still treating me like I'm the hottest shit since Zac Efron. Weird, right?"

"Fucking annoying is what it is," I grumble.

Dan grins smugly at me, flashing his white teeth. "Oooh, somebody's jealous."

"You wish," I grumble, ducking my face to hide my blush. God dammit, those stupid girls were right. How the hell does Dan manage to get his face all bruised up and still look attractive?

"Hey, you have nothing to worry about, Sammy boy. It'll take someone way hotter than either of those chicks to steal me from you."

"Oh yeah? Like who?"

Dan pauses for a moment, looking to be thinking hard. "You know that guy who plays the zombie in the movie Warm Bodies?"

"Nicholas Hoult?"

"Yeah, him. I'd dump you for him any day."

I snort, pushing him away from me. "Any girls you would leave me for?"

"Emma Watson," he responds without a beat. "Easy."

We laugh together, but try to keep it down so as not to be called out by Mr. Smith.

It's only then that I have the realization. Gasping, I look to my right. "Fuck. Where's Rose?"

Dan's smile drops and his eyes go wide. "Oh shit. What class does she have before this again?"

"Gym," I respond, my stomach turning to ice.

"Shit," Dan repeats. "You don't think something happened, do you?"

I don't answer. My head is already conjuring a list of the worst possible scenarios.

Just then, the door opens loudly behinds us. "Sorry I'm late, Mr. Smith." Rose sounds out of breath, and her face flushes through her makeup as everyone turns to look at her. The room floods with whispers.

"That's alright George, just take your seat."

"It's Rose, actually."

Smith does a double take. "Pardon me?"

"Um..." My sister's blush deepens as she takes her seat beside me. "I....I go by Rose now. That's my name."

"Uh....Okay." The teacher looks utterly perplexed, not even bothering to quiet down the students as their gossiping increases in volume, but eventually gets back to the lesson.

"Why are you late?" I ask Rose, still panicking internally.

"I was fixing my makeup," she explains nonchalantly.

"Well text me next time. You scared the shit out of me."

"You're not my babysitter, Sam," Rose snaps. "And you have nothing to worry about."

"I was just scared, with you coming out today and all--"

"Sam, I told you, it's not a big deal. Everything has been fine today." She puts a comforting arm around me. "You need to stop being afraid that things at school will be as bad as home if you come out."

And just like that, though I was finally able to relax for a little bit with Dan, it's back to Anxiety Town. "Fuck, I can't do this," I mutter.

"What?"

"I can't go home. I can't, I can't. Not today."

Rose frowns. "Well it's not like you have any other choice."

I turn to Dan. "Can I go home with you today instead?"

"Of course."

"Sam!" Rose looks appalled. "You have to face them eventually. And you'll never get away with sleeping somewhere else without permission."

"Maybe not," I allow. "Or maybe I will, if you cover for me."

"What the hell am I supposed to say??"

"Tell them I'm staying late to work on a project. And with the way they've been fighting lately, I'll bet they won't even notice if I just don't come home."

"That's bullshit," Rose argues "They'll notice you've been gone by dinner. And what am I supposed to say when they ask me where you are?"

"You can stick to the story. Just text me if they start freaking out, and I'll come home." With the rapidness of my answers, you would think I've been planning this all day or something, but in reality I'm speaking the words as quickly as they come to me.

Rose shakes her head. "This is never going to work."

"Rosie, I'll tell you what," Dan interjects with a grin. "If this doesn't work, I will pay you ten dollars for your troubles."

Rose ponders this, actually looking tempted by the offer. The she counters, "Twenty."

"Done."

"Dan," I laugh. "Don't let my sister swindle you."

"Relax, it's nothing," he whispers so Rose won't hear. "If she wanted to swindle me, she would've raised it to fifty. I wipe my ass with twenty dollar bills."

"Ew, really?"

"No Sam, not really. That would be disgusting."

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

Rose

So in the end, I agreed to let Sam go party at his boyfriend's house after school while I get to go home and deal with our parents alone. An agreement that I would never have made if I didn't feel so bad about lying to him earlier.

Okay, it was more of a half-truth. A white lie, at worst. I was late coming back from gym because I was fixing my makeup, but what I didn't tell Sam and Dan was that I was fixing it to cover up a bruise. It was a poor coverup, to be honest, but luckily the lights in our math class are nearly always dimmed in the back because Smith uses the projector.

Baking class, on the other hand, has brilliant fluorescent lighting. And inconveniently enough, I have friends in this class who care enough to ask questions.

"Hey George," Faith greets me first, sitting at our row in the back. "Whoa, what happened to your face?"

"What, the makeup?"

"No. The dark spot under the makeup." She gets uncomfortably close to me to inspect my face, so I can see the freckles behind her glasses. "You look like you're trying to cover up that you were punched."

"Uh, I am," I respond awkwardly. "There was a little incident in gym class related to the fact that I'm coming out as trans today."

Faith cocks her head. "Transgender?"

"Yeah. Which reminds me, I go by Rose now."

"Oh. Ohhh. Wow, that makes a lot of sense. Good for you! But, uh, I'm sorry you got hit. That's really messed--"

"George Wyatt!" Interrupts an excited voice, coming from a familiar petite girl rushing from the front row to talk to me. "Oh, pardon me, I mean Rose Wyatt. May I just say that you are looking finer than a frog hair split eight ways!"

"Um, thanks?" I respond, assuming it's a compliment, but not being entirely sure.

"You talk like my grandmother," Faith remarks, staring oddly at Alecia.

Alecia ignores her, only having eyes for me. "A little birdie told me about you being trans, and I just wanna say that you have my full support, girl!" She flashes me her beautiful smile, standing poised as if ready for a picture. I can't help but feel like an ogre next to this girl.

"Thanks Alecia," I practically groan. I think I know where this is going

She doesn't seem to notice my tone. "And I know I already gave you and your little friends my buttons and all, but I just wanna remind all ya'll that student body elections are next month! Just vote for me and I will make this campus safe for you and your people!"

I sigh. "Thanks," I repeat. "And yeah, I'll pry vote for you." It's not like I know any other upperclassmen anyway.

As usual, Lucas rushes in seconds before the bell rings. "Hey guys," he greets me and Faith. "Do you know what we're doing toda-- Whoa. Kid, what happened to your face?"

"Crap, is it that obvious?" I put a hand over my cheek self-consciously.

"Only up close," Faith tries to reassure me. "And then once you see it, it's just really hard to look away."

I grimace, knowing exactly what she means when I remember my mom's bruised face covered with makeup that morning Sam and I realized that Dad had been hitting her.

"Did someone hurt you?" Lucas asks me, looking a combination of confused, sad, and angry.

"Someone in the locker room during gym today," I mutter. "Um, I don't really want to talk about it."

"Alright class," Mrs. Reeves starts us off. "Yesterday we worked on calculating measurements. Today we are going to talk about the different utensils we will use in the kitchen."

"Ugggh, boring," Lucas complains. "When do we get to eat food?"

"Next week," Mrs. Reeves answers.

Half of the class groans, Lucas among them.

"Hang on," Faith says in a low voice as Mrs. Reeves begins the lesson. "You're not going to tell us what happened in gym?"

"Just....an incident," I wave her off. "No big deal. And I don't really want to go into it."

"Lucas?" Faith asks. "Is that good enough for you?"

"Hey, she said she didn't want to talk about it," Lucas shrugs, picking up the worksheet that our teacher just passed out. He squints at it. "What the hell is a laddle?"

"It's pronounced ladle," Faith sighs. "You know, that big spoon you serve soup with."

"Why not just call it a spoon?"

"Anyway," Faith turns back to me. "If you're being harassed, I really think you should report it."

I can't help but snort at the suggestion. Partly because it has been so long since someone has advised me to report anything, and partly because I remember why. "Thanks for the thought, but nothing ever gets done about bullying around here."

"This isn't normal bullying though," Faith argues. "Being attacked for being transgender is a hate crime. Whoever did this to you could get into serious trouble."

"Not in my experience," I sigh. "Believe me Faith, I've been down that road before. Worst that'll happen is Edgar Thompson gets called into the office and given a talking-to, and then he'll really be after me for snitching."

"Edgar Thompson did this?" Faith seems alarmed. "Jeez, wasn't he one of the kids who Rose Parker went apeshit on? Didn't he learn his lesson?"

"Apparently not," I answer, wincing at the second mention of Rose Parker's name today. Will I ever be allowed to forget her?

"Okay, some of these have got to be fake," Lucas proclaims, still completely absorbed by the worksheet. "I mean seriously, what the hell is this?"

Faith leans over to look at the picture. "That's a potato masher."

"Really?"

Faith looks officially exasperated. "Lucas, will you please tell Rose that she should report what happened to her in gym class?"

Lucas glances again at my bruise, winces, then looks away. "I dunno, I mean....It'd pry be a good idea. But at the end of the day, it's your decision."

I grin at him. "Thanks."

Faith rolls her eyes. "I guess he has a point, it's up to you. But that's always my suggestion."

"Hey, we're still on for today after school, right?" Lucas asks me suddenly.

I give him a curious look. "For....what?"

"You said you could come over to teach me how to draw people."

"Oh, right! Wait, I thought you said Thursday?"

"Did I? Sorry, my memory is shit. I guess tomorrow then--"

"Wait!" Suddenly, lightbulb. Maybe I won't have to go home alone after all. "Would today work?"

"I mean, I guess...."

I pull out my phone and shoot my mom a quick text: Hey, Sam and I both have projects after school and need to stay late. He'll be staying later than me.

I hit send before I realize that I used the male pronoun to refer to Sam. My heart speeds up, but then I wonder if it even matters anymore. I guess that depends on where Mom is at as far as accepting Sam's confession.

Seconds later, I get a response: Fine.

Wow! That was easy.

"I can come over today," I tell Lucas, smiling so wide that it hurts my face. Wincing, I put a hand up to the tender spot again. The memories of gym almost come flooding back....

"Neato," says Lucas. "I'll let my mom know you're coming. Be warned, I'm the oldest of four, so it won't be a quiet environment."

I laugh. "That's okay." And it really is. I don't care about what happened in gym today, or what might happen when I go home later, or that Sam was right about everything all along. None of that matters. I finally have something to look forward to.

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

Dan

I spend most of my last class in the bathroom, but not for the reason you think. This time, I'm trying to make myself flush my blades.

You would think something like this would be simple, right? Just take the things out of your pocket, drop them in the toilet, push the lever to flush. But I straight up spend twenty fucking minutes just staring at that gross, white bowl, the three razors clutched so tightly in my hand that they're digging into my palm.

Just let it go, Daniel. Unclench fist, release.

It feels like only yesterday that I was doing this at Lake Juniper, with the five razor blades that I had kept in my dresser for what felt like forever. I still remember how proud I felt when I finally released those fuckers into the water, and I can still hear the subtle plink sounds they made before they sank, and I can still taste the victory. God, I was so sure that time was going to be it. That I was finally free.

But apart of me also knew I would find more. I always do. I can wear my stupid fucking rubber bands and prance around like some poster boy for recovery, when in reality that was never me. It never will be. These blades own my ass, and there is nothing I can do about it.

Still, I finally manage to drop all three of them into the toilet, if only because I know that I have no choice. With Sam coming over after school, I can't have any evidence of my treachery lying around for him to find.

What? Don't look at me like that. I'm going to tell him, okay? I swear I will.

-----

I rush to the commons after school to meet Sam, and am surprised to find that he beat me there for once. He's sitting on the floor, looking so worn out, but still so incredibly adorable. He's wearing his long-sleeved Linkin Park shirt, dark jeans and boots. His new, short haircut is messy, but in a hot way. My heart takes off just from seeing him, like it always does.

I want to run over there, scoop him up in my arms, and carry him far away from anything that could ever hurt him.

"Hey Danny boy," he greets me with the smallest of smiles when he sees me. He holds up his hand. "Could you pull me up?"

I do. "You tired?"

"Exhausted," he sighs, leaning on my shoulder. "I''m glad I'm not going home today though."

"Me too," I admit. "But are you sure you won't get in trouble?"

"Well, Rose will be 20 bucks richer if I do. Hopefully she won't rat me out for the money."

"I don't think she will." I wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer to me as we leave the building side-by-side. "But let's not think about that anymore. Today, you're just going to worry about relaxing. You've been too anxious for your own good."

As soon as we're outside, the cold air hits us like a brick wall. I have my thick leather jacket to keep me warm, but I can feel Sammy tense up against me. I start to remove my jacket.

"Daniel Albright, if you try to give me your fucking jacket again I will kick your ass."

I sigh. "You always say that, yet I will never stop trying.  Here," I take off one sleeve only and pull it so that it wraps around Sam as well as myself. "Happy?"

He doesn't answer, but he pulls his half of the jacket tighter around himself. "Mmm. It smells like you."

"Well I should hope so," I laugh. But I know what he means. Sam has a specific scent, too. It's a natural freshness with a touch of citrus, like orange or lime or something, which I can only guess is his shampoo. It's why I like that I'm a couple inches taller than him, so that when we hug I can breathe in his hair without being too obvious about it. I can inhale his scent all day.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Sam asks, blushing.

"Because I love you," I say honestly. And I do. I know that I love Sam like most people know their last name, without even remembering having learned it. For me it just wasn't a fact, and then it was. And believe me, I never thought that I would be the person to say the words first, and to say them so quickly. But I was, and now I have to own them every chance I get, while quietly hoping that one day I might get to hear them back.

Sam rolls his eyes. "God, you are the worst. I'm gonna barf."

"Fine, but don't get it on my jacket. It wasn't cheap."

"Your mom wasn't cheap.

"Oh, I'm sure she was at some point."

We break into laughter together, the very way that all of my favorite conversations with Sam end.

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

Rose

Conversation with Lucas is so easy, I want to cry sometimes.

I still remember how much I used to stress about saying and doing the right things in front of Cody, always wanting to be comfortable with him, but not always knowing how. Probably had something to do with the ginormous secret about myself that I hid from him for our entire, short relationship.

But with Lucas, it's all out in the open. And with Lucas, I can actually talk about it.

"So how long did you guys know?" he asks me unabashedly on the way to his house after school.

"About ourselves or about each other?"

"Uhhh....both?"

Rather than staying next to me on the sidewalk, I notice how Lucas sort of goes all over there place. One second he's in the grass, then he's in the street, then he's balancing on the curb as he walks with his arms outstretched like he's on a tightrope. At some points, he even walks backwards so he can look at me while we talk, and I can't help but giggle when he does this.

"Gosh, I think we always knew," I tell him, thinking back to my earliest memories. "Definitely about ourselves, and most likely about each other. It's really hard to explain, but we never had to come out to each other. We just....had a feeling."

Lucas hops from the curb to the street again. "A feeling, huh? What exactly does transgender feel like?"

I laugh. "That's a good one. It's hard to say, though, because I've always been trans. I don't know what cisgender feels like, so I don't really have anything to compare my experience to. I can just tell you that there's a feeling of....wrongness. That's what it is."

"Like, from what moment? Do you remember your first experience with dysphoria?"

I tilt my head a bit, still watching Lucas continue to switch from the sidewalk to the grass, to the street and then back to the sidewalk. I have never been asked such honest, curious questions about my identity before. It's a bit nerve-wracking having to come up with answers, but also kind of fun. And definitely nice that someone cares enough to want to know.

"Um....god, I don't know. Its been awhile since I thought that far back. I do remember kindergarten, whenever the teacher had us separate into boys and girls, me and Sam would always try to join the opposite sides." I laugh as the memory comes back to me. "Damn, it was always so simple for us. I know there are plenty of trans kids out there who go through all kinds of hellish identity crises before they finally realize they were born with the wrong body. But for me and Sam....we just always knew. And I think it's because we had each other. We never had to suffer alone."

Lucas nods receptively, now back next to me once more. "Yeah, I can imagine that made it easier. And your parents never suspected a thing, huh?"

I sigh. "Honestly, sometimes I wonder if they're just in denial. Even looking back, the signs were everywhere. There's this video of us when we turned four that Sam likes to watch, a video of our birthday party. There was a bunch of girl's stuff and boy's stuff set up on pink and blue sides of the room, right? Well Sam and I literally ran to the opposite sides of what they expected. And in life, that's basically what we've always done. I've always thought that either my parents secretly knew all along and were in denial, or they are the dumbest, most inattentive people on earth."

Lucas laughs. "I could see that. I mean, It was obvious to me pretty much right away. Not with the makeup, but with like, your mannerisms. You just seem like a girl."

I smile at him. "Well, you have no idea how much that means to me."

We reach what I assume is Lucas's house when he suddenly takes a sharp left into a driveway. Me following his lead, we enter through the garage. "Hellooo?"He calls out.

Almost immediately, a small adorable little girl with Lucas's caramel skin and a head of black curls comes barreling around the corner. "Lukey, Lukey!"

Lucas scoops the girl up, grunting as he raises her high up into the air. "Hey Josie! Did you miss me?"

"I missed you!" she cries, laughing like a maniac. "Higher Lukey, higher!"

Lucas tosses her a few times before settling her in his arms. "Rose, this is Josefina. She's three. Josie, this is my friend Rose."

I give an awkward little wave. "Nice to meet you," I mutter. Needless to say, I'm not super used to dealing with humans of the smaller variety.

Little Josie's wave is just as awkward, however, and she immediately hides her face in her brother's shoulder.

"Sorry, she's a bit shy around new people. Here, come into the living room."

I follow Lucas as he puts down his sister and she runs ahead of both of us. In the living room, a woman who I assume to be Lucas's mother sits on the couch, watching a Spanish program. "Hey Mom, this is the friend I told you I was bringing. Her name is Rose."

I cringe, preparing for the worst as the woman briefly looks me up and down. I can't help but feel a bit threatened by her small, yet sharp appearance; she has none of Lucas's softer features.

However, the fear is short-lived. "Nice to meet you, Rose," she says with a smile. "There's snacks on the kitchen counter for you two if you want them."

"Thanks!" says Lucas, subtly pulling me out of the room. He seems to be in a rush. "But I think we're just going to go up to my room."

Her face falls slightly, but she's surprisingly quick to recover. "Okay. Let me know if you need anything."

"Got it!"

"And leave the door open!"

"Got it, Mom!" Lucas is already pulling me up the stairs. "Sorry," he says in a low voice. "I'll explain in a few minutes. Did you want anything to eat?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Good. If we stayed downstairs, my mom would totally spy on us."

Once we get to Lucas's room, the first thing he does is quietly shut the door. "Sorry it's a bit of a mess," he mutters.

Honestly, I've seen worse. There's a few piles of unfolded clothes here and there, but nothing worse than Sam's side of our room when he's going through a bout of depression. Other than that, Lucas's main crime against cleanliness is his desk, which is piled with so many papers, journals, and sketchbooks that the sight is overwhelming, not to mention the food wrappers and empty drink cups that sit among the clutter.

"Do you get any work done on that thing?" I ask, pointing to his desk.

"Sure I do. Watch." In one motion, he sweeps his arm across the desktop so the entire mess of papers and junk is on the floor. "See? Clean desk. Now I just need to find my sketchbook."

I laugh as he digs through the rubbish. "You're ridiculous."

"I know. Anyway, sorry about my mom."

"What about her?" I ask. "She didn't seem so bad to me."

"Well that's good," he says, pulling his phone from his pocket. "But probably only because I sent her this." He shows me the screen of his phone, which is open to a conversation between him and his mom from just an hour ago:

LUCAS: Hey mom. I'm bringing over a friend after school. Her name is Rose.

MOM: Is this the one that looks like a boy but calls himself a girl?

LUCAS: Yes, SHE is transgender. Please don't be weird about it.

MOM: Fine. Just have her gone before your father gets home.

"Ouch," I say aloud. "But that's not so bad either. I mean, I always prepare myself for the worst reaction possible when it comes to other people's parents, so it's no big deal."

"Its a big deal to me," Lucas grumbles, sounding actually angry for the first time since I've known him. "Sorry, I don't mean to get emotional, it's just--"

"LUCAS!"

Lucas groans, opening the door. "YEAH MOM?"

"DID YOU TAKE YOUR MEDS TODAY?"

Lucas groans, putting his hands over his face in frustration, before screaming back. "YES MOM! GOD!" He looks at me guiltily. "And then she does shit like that. This is why I don't like to bringing people over. She'll either embarrass me or judge them or both. Ugh...but anyway." He smooths his long hair back as he takes a deep breath. "Sorry. I'll stop bitching."

"It's fine, dude," I assure him. "Everyone should be able to bitch about their family to someone."

As Lucas keeps looking for his sketchbook, we hear the front door open and close again. "Ah, that'll be the other two. My nine year old sister Sofia and my twelve year old brother Hector. Hopefully you'll never meet them."

"Yikes, do they know about me?"

"Nope," he pops the "p". "Aha! Here it is," he pulls up the black sketchbook I saw him drawing in our first day in baking. "Did you bring yours?"

"I always have mine." I smile, pulling my own sketchbook out of my backpack.

"Alrighty then," he hops onto his bed and pats the spot next to him. "Sorry, don't mean to be weird. But as you can see, there aren't a lot of other places to sit."

I move towards the bed and gently take a seat, being sure to leave an adequate amount of space between us.

Lucas opens his sketchbook to a blank page. "Here we go then. What's lesson one, teacher?"

"Oh. Um....." I flip through my own sketches, realizing that I've never taught anything art-related before. "I suppose we could start with just a simple, human face. If I could just find a good example...." Unfortunately, it's only when you are asked to show somebody one of your drawings on the spot that you realize that everything you have ever drawn is terrible.

"Hang on!" He puts a hand in my book to stop me from turning. "That one."

"Oh no, we can find a better one than that," I protest, blushing furiously as I try to turn the page. "There has to be something in here that isn't garbage--"

"Kid, this is not garbage. It's...." He looks from the drawing to me, then back to the drawing. "It's you."

"Correction: It's what I wish I looked like," I sigh, giving up on trying to hide it. I let him hold the sketchbook.

"No, I can see you in here. She has your eyes, your nose. Your smile."

My face is so hot I feel like I might burst into flames now. "It was just a quick thing I did in history class last semester. There's not even a ton of detail--"

"Good for a beginner then," says Lucas, picking up his pencil. "I want to draw it."

"First of all, you are nowhere near a beginner artist," I argue. "I've seen your talent, and you're amazing. And second.....are you sure."

"Positive. Now why don't you put on some good music while I try to outline this. I love drawing to music."

It takes me several minutes of scrolling through my phone, but I finally settle on Lovely by Twenty-One Pilots.

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

Cody

Besides Journalism class when Sam asked about my sister, the rest of my afternoon is a huge blur up until the moment when the final bell rings. Everything has felt blurry since yesterday, when I was caught screaming by Sunny's bedside. Sometimes I feel halfway between being dead and alive. I've never felt so depressed in my life.

On my way to get stuff out of my locker, I catch Rose leaving with that kid Lucas that she brought to lunch. Apart of me wonders if they're a thing now. Most of me doesn't care, but apart of me always will.

And thoughts of Rose nearly always lead to thoughts of Sam.

Oh, Sam. He has no idea that thinking about him still brings some amount of pain to my chest. Pain for things that happened, and things that didn't. Pain for what could've been, and what never will. And now, it's just nonstop pain in my chest that I wish I could physically rip out, but can't.

Why are all of these thoughts coming to me now? Is it because thoughts of my sister's inevitable demise are leading me to believe that I am destined to be abandoned by everyone I have ever cared about, and that it will always be because of my own stupidity?

Maybe I'm just lonely....

WHAM! Suddenly, I'm on the floor. Apparently I'm so stupid, I can't even think and walk at the same time anymore without crashing into somebody.

"Watch where you're going, you dumbass!" Yells the other person, who I guess was also knocked to the floor.

"Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean--" I get up quickly and am about to offer a hand to the other kid before I see who it is.

"Well well, if it isn't one of the main faggots," John Walker growls as he gets up himself. "Why did you shove me, faggot? You trying to get back at me for hurting your boyfriend?"

"Daniel Albright is not my boyfriend." For some reason, this is the first thing I want to make clear. "And I'm guessing Alecia's at cheer practice again, which is the only time you're allowed to walk around calling people faggots, right?"

"Fuck you!" John shoves me back to the floor. "Do you wanna be next? I'll beat your ass just like I beat the other kid."

I clench my fists, a sudden and unexpected fury overtaking my body. Maybe it's because I've been suffering under this crushing sadness for so long that it has made me numb, or maybe it's because I'm already feeling angry at the world today, but the next words out of my mouth come out forcefully, confidently, and entirely without my approval: "Sure John. Let's go."

He actually looks taken aback at first, which gives me an ounce of satisfaction. "You serious?"

"Yeah! You wanna fight, let's fight. Outside, right now. You're not secretly some scared little bitch, are you?"

I don't know what I'm doing, but apparently I'm doing it well, because John looks thoroughly caught off guard. "N-No. I ain't no bitch. You saw how I dealt with that other freshy yesterday!"

"Maybe you just got lucky," I muse as I slowly back away from him. "Or maybe your poor little hands are still all bruised and tired. You're pry afraid you won't fight as well today, aren't you?"

"Fuck you! I'll fucking rip your throat out for talking shit!"

He's coming towards me now, and my brain is finally catching up with my mouth. We're almost near the front doors....

But John beats me to them, holding one open for me. "Ladies first," he says with mock-politeness. "What do you say about taking this behind the gym?"

My heart is in my throat and my stomach is in my chest and my brain is screaming WHAT ARE YOU DOING CODY? WHAT THE EVERLIVING FUCK ARE YOU DOING?

"Oh come on," John says, his grin widening as he notices that I'm starting to change my mind. "Don't be a tease and back out now."

With freedom in sight, my amygdala finally comes to it's sense. I turn on my heel and take off running across the football field.

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

Sam

Dan's place is as spotless and quiet as ever, with not even the maid Gabriella in sight.

"Damn," I whisper, marveling again at the emptiness. "It must be nice to live alone."

"Sometimes," Dan mutters, sounding sad. "Anyway, you can drop your stuff off in my room."

"Oh shit, I don't have clean clothes or anything," I realize, embarrassed.

"That's okay," Dan reassures me quickly. "You can wear mine. If you want, I mean. And there's spare toothbrushes and stuff in all of the bathrooms. Also, there's like a bunch of guest rooms, and you can sleep in any one of them. Uh, if you want." His words come out fast, as if he thought of this all on the way home.

I smile at him. "You're cute when you're awkward."

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!" I push him hard before running up the stairs.

"Get back here, you little shit!" He yells through his laughter, chasing me.

I beat him to his room and shut the door before he makes it in, leaning on it as I quickly turning the lock.

Dan bangs on the door with his fist. "Let me into my room, you asshole!"

"What's the password?" I ask, playfully.

"Fuck you!"

"Sorry, that's incorrect. Please try again."

"Sam, I swear to god--"

"You know, while I'm here I might as well make myself at home." I drop my backpack by the door and collapse onto his bed, laughing to myself as he continues to jiggle the doorknob. "Ooh, your bed is comfy. Maybe I'll sleep here and you can have the guest room."

Dan groans, but finally lets go of the doorknob. He falls silent for a few minutes.

Meanwhile, I enjoy my moments alone in his room by snuggling up under the blankets of his queen sized bed, turning my head every now and then to inhale the scent of his pillows. Man, with a bed this comfortable, how Dan manages to get out of it every morning is a total mystery to me.

Suddenly the door flies open, causing me to scream in surprise.

"Ha!" Dan laughs, holding up a bent bobby pin. "Lock-picking skills, baby!"

"Dammit!" I jump off of his bed and start backing away from him as he approaches me. I end up backing into his dresser, knocking some things to the floor. "Oh shit. Sorry," I mutter, pausing our game for a minute.

"It's fine. I'll get it--"

"No no, allow me." I pick up a couple of books, a small box that appears to hold his different piercings that he is not allowed to wear to school, and a tangled mess of what appears to be--"Hey, here they are."

"What?"

I hold up the collection of black circles. "Your rubber bands. I was wondering the other day about how I never see you wear them anymore like you used to."

Dan shrugs, reaching to take them from me before setting them back on his dresser. "I guess I don't need them anymore," he mutters. "Eventually you get to that point in recovery."

I smile, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Danny. I hope I can get to where you are one day."

"Yeah..." He trails off as he places his hand on top of mine, not meeting my eyes. He almost seems to be upset.

I'm about to ask him what's wrong when suddenly, his sad expression turns into an evil grin as he pushes me back onto his bed.

"Ha! Shouldn't have let your guard down, Sammy. Now it's time for my revenge."

"Wait!" I try to run, but he's too fast. He jumps onto the bed beside me before I can escape and begins to tickle me.

"Agh! Nonono, please. Stop! Sto--" But I can barely breathe through my laughter, let alone speak as he jabs at my sides and my neck.

"I knew you were ticklish!"

"GET OFF ME! I WILL END YOU!"

"Hard to take you seriously when you're laughing."

Finally, I manage to shove him off of me and on to the floor.

"Ow! Ah, fuck."

"That's what you get," I laugh, before remembering his injuries and leaning over the side of the bed to check on him. "But seriously are you alright?"

He's curled up in the fetal position, clutching his stomach. "Um...yeah," he grunts. "Ah, ow. Hang on a sec--"

Before I can offer to help him up, he stands and rushes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Concerned that I may have accidentally done something serious, I knock gently on the door. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah! I just need to check....yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." He opens the door, smiling wide at me. "Just some of my bruises acting up. No harm done."

"Oh, good," I sigh in relief. "But seriously, never tickle me again."

"Noted." He winks at me. "Now why don't we engage in something a little less violent?"

"Like what?"

"I dunno. What exactly are the kids doing these days?"

-----

Thirty minutes later, Dan and I are cuddled up under a blanket on the basement couch, watching Parks & Rec on the giant flatscreen while eating a pizza we had ordered.

"This was a great idea," Dan acknowledges before taking a bite of his third slice.

"Netflix and pizza is always a great idea."

"True," says Dan, pulling me closer to him. "But it's even better when you're here."

"Oh, whatever," I mutter, blushing.

"I mean it. I'm glad you're here, Sam."

Though my first instinct is normally to hide my face in his shoulder, or to make fun of him for being disgustingly mushy, I find my self saying, "I'm glad I'm here too."

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

Rose

The time on my phone reads 4:45pm. Nearly two hours since school let out. This whole time, Lucas and I have been drawing quietly next to each other on his bed. It has been a comfortable silence, broken by nothing but the soft music coming from my phone and occasional noises from his siblings downstairs. It's easy for me to tune it all out though, I am so absorbed by what I'm drawing....

"Dammit!" Lucas cries out, making me jump as he throws his pencil in frustration. "How the hell do you make the second eye look as good as the first?"

"That is one of the greatest frustrations of the artist, my friend," I tell him. "Even I don't manage it all the time. I hate drawing eyes."

"Is that why you're painting one for your project in art class?" Lucas asks, one eyebrow raised.

My face flushes. "That's different. It's up close, so it's easier."

"Hey, I'm not saying anything. I love it. Can't wait to see it when it's finished. And speaking of finished, I think I'm done here. Give me honest feedback, okay?"

"Of course," I say, reaching to take the sketchbook.

He holds it back. "But don't make fun of me, okay? It doesn't look exactly like yours, because I changed my mind halfway through."

"Okay, that's fine. Just let me see."

"It sucks, okay? Just a forewarning--"

"Lucas!" I laugh, taking the book from him. I take a look at his drawing, and my breath catches in my throat.

Yes, his drawing is different from mine; he went a completely different direction. I don't know what to say....

"Well?" asks Lucas. "Thoughts, comments, questions?"

"Just one question, actually?"

"What?"

"How the hell do you think you can't draw faces?"

Lucas actually looks astonished by my reaction. "Wait, seriously? You don't think it's garbage?"

"I think it's amazing! What, are you blind or something."

"Um, no. I don't think I could draw at all if I were. Uh, no offense to any blind artists out there."

I just laugh, shaking my head at his ridiculousness, while still trying to wrap my mind around how he could interpret this as bad. "Lucas, I don't need to teach you anything."

"But I'm not that good! I want to draw people more realistically, like you do."

"Just because you have a different style, doesn't mean you draw badly," I explain to him, handing him back his sketchbook. "I think you're suffering more from low self-confidence than poor talent. I'm the same way."

As he takes back his book, Lucas looks nervous. And maybe a little bit....disappointed?

"What's wrong?" I ask him.

"Nothing! It's just....nothing. Anyway," he tosses aside his sketchbook with a sigh. "I guess you can leave if you want. If you really have nothing to teach me, I guess." He looks up at me through his bangs, and that's when I realize that his eyes are saying something different than his mouth.

"I mean....I don't have to go yet," I tell him. "And just because I don't have to teach you anything doesn't mean that we still can't draw together."

"Really?"

"Sure!" My heart flutters. I can't believe it. This kid actually wants to keep spending time with me, and not because he wants something from me. "If you want to, we can make this a weekly thing! Like, I can just come over and we can draw together."

Lucas smiles, his dark eyes shining brighter than I've ever seen them. "I'd like that."

I duck my head to hide my flushed cheeks. Between us, my phone plays the song Ruby, which unfortunately causes my mind to wander to Rose Parker yet again. Sometimes I wonder what she's doing now, and what her life is like living with her dad and stepmom in a new town. When I'm listening to Twenty-One Pilots on a loop, I wonder if those tingles on the back of my neck as I think of her means that she is listening to the same song as me out there. I wonder if she ever thinks of me....

"So can I see what you drew?" Lucas asks, interrupting my thoughts.

I shut the door on the memories of my former best friend, feeling a bit irritated with myself that I've been thinking about her so much lately. There are people here in my life now worth thinking about, people who didn't randomly go psycho before vanishing from my life completely when I needed a friend the most.

"Um, sure," I respond to Lucas's question. "It's pretty simple though." I slide him my sketchbook thoughtlessly, not embarrassed by my drawing, but not proud of it either. It's just a simple rose.

"How do you do that?" Lucas asks in bewilderment after staring at it for several seconds.

"What? Draw roses?"

"No. How do you bring so much life to a picture on paper. That's exactly what I feel like I suck at."

I shrug, really not feeling like I'm that great. "I dunno. I just....do it."

"Wow, I like that. 'Just do it'. They should put that on a t-shirt."

I laugh out loud. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah, you've mentioned that."

"I know."

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

Cody

I run faster than I've ever run before, but it's not fast enough. About a hundred yards from the end of school grounds, John grabs me by the back of my shirt and sends me sprawling to the ground.

He stomps his foot hard onto my chest, holding me down. "You just couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you faggot? You're as bad as the other one."

I'm about sick and tired of this asshole comparing me to Dan, but I don't tell him that. Unlike Dan, I actually do keep my mouth shut this time.

"Well? You got somethin more to say? Huh?"

I say nothing. Partly because my lungs feel like they're about to collapse under the weight of this guy's foot, but mostly because I'm terrified. John Walker stares straight into my broken soul with his cold, unfeeling eyes, and I'm took frozen to look away.

"Wow, I can't help but feel disappointed. At least the other one had better comebacks." Not bothering to waste anymore time, he lands his fist straight into my jaw.

I cry out in both shock and pain. Fuck, that hurt. I've never been hit so hard in my life; I'm actually surprised that my jaw is still connected to the rest of my skull.

John doesn't give me anymore time to lament about it, however. He picks me up from the ground by my shirt collar, tearing it in the process, and throws me back down. "What's wrong? You're not going to fight back?" He kicks me on the last word, right in the gut, the force of it knocking the breath out of me. "Come on, you fucking loser! Fight back!"

But I don't. I just curl up on the ground, shielding my face with my arms as he continues to attack me. Thankfully, we are too far from the school building to draw an audience, because my potential for humiliation increases as I start to tear up.

And John doesn't miss it. "Holy shit, are you actually crying right now? You're a fucking loser, you know that?"

I don't answer, but continue to shake with quiet sobs. My body is still tensed for his next hit, but he seems to have stopped. I wish he would keep going, that he would keep on beating me up until he eventually knocks me into a coma. It's no more than I deserve.

"Man, I can't even fight you like this," John laughs, shaking his head. "You're too fucking pathetic."

No, please, I want to beg. Please keep hurting me. Please, just kill me. It's what I want, it's what I need.

"Have fun crying in the dirt, faggot."

I'm not sure how long exactly I stay there, but eventually I recover. I take a deep breath and brush myself off. I walk home alone in the cold, with thoughts of nothing but my own crippling loneliness, and how John Walker thinking I'm too pathetic to fight is just the cherry on top of my miserable life.

I should go home and kill myself.

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

Rose

"So how often do you feel it?" Lucas asks. "The dysphoria, I mean?"

We have rotated to different spots around his bedroom since we've stopped drawing, and now we're lying next to each other on his floor. (Lucas had to clear a space by pushing his clothes up against the walls). We're just lying there, staring up at the cracks in his ceiling, and he is back to asking me questions about being trans.

"Um, I don't know," I respond, cringing. I feel like 'I don't know' is almost always the answer. "It's kinda random. It's almost like depression, or any other metal illness, with the way you feel like it's always there, even when you aren't fully aware of it. Even on days when I'm happy, or at least distracted by something, the dysphoria is still lurking underneath. Like this gross creature that just lives on my back, that I can't shake no matter how hard I try."

Lucas nods in a way that makes me think he understands on some level. "Yeah...."

Another thing about Lucas, though he may not be the first person to convince me to open up about myself, he is the first one to ever make me feel like I'm rambling. Maybe it's the way he listens so attentively when I'm speaking, always nodding thoughtfully at my explanations and asking followup questions, rather than just waiting for his turn to speak.

"Is it bothering you that I'm asking you so many questions?" He wants to know.

His concern floods my heart with warmth. "No way. I actually love it, no one has ever been as curious as you before. I appreciate you asking."

"Can I ask you more then?"

"Of course."

"What made you choose the name Rose?"

Great, here comes another ambiguous answer. "I wish I could tell you. All I know is that I was about six or seven when I decided that Rose would be my name, and that I would never change my mind about it. I probably heard it on TV or maybe read it in a book. Not very exciting, I know."

"No, but it's realistic," Lucas says honestly. "Do you have a middle name?"

"Annabelle," I tell him. "That one I actually do remember choosing. Sam and I chose our middle names together, because we both wanted ours to start with A. He chose Aaron, after some obscure song artist I've never heard of. I actually first chose Annabeth, after my favorite character from the Percy Jackson series, but then I changed it to Annabelle because I thought it was more modern."

I notice then that Lucas is grinning his usual, goofy grin. "What?" I ask.

"Nothing. It's just....I loved the Percy Jackson books."

"Really?" I ask, excitedly.

"Yeah. I was never big on reading in elementary school, but those were the only books I would read. I read them during class. It drove my teachers nuts even more than my rambunctiousness."

I giggle. "I can imagine."

We talk about books for a little bit, and then TV shows. I find out that Lucas is a huge fan of American Horror Story, and I have to tell him that I'm not big on the scary stuff. He swears on his life that he's going to make me watch a scary movie with him someday, and though I act extremely opposed to it, my heart flutters at the thought.

Before long, however, he is back to asking me questions. "Do you think you'll ever do the hormones and the surgeries and stuff?"

"Definitely," I tell him, glad to be able to give a definitive answer. "If it were up to me I would be on hormones now, but unfortunately that kind of thing needs parent permission. Which really sucks, because I can feel myself growing more and more into the wrong body every day. At this rate, I'll need to have surgeries just to fix all of the damage done by puberty."

"Wow," mutters Lucas, sounding almost as pained as I feel. "That fucking sucks, kid. I'm sorry you have to go through that."

I shrug. "I'm used to it. Well, I guess that's a lie. I'll never just 'get used to' being in the wrong body. It's just the way that my life is. It sucks and I hate it, and I would give anything to change it. But it's my life. And all of my life goals revolve around getting the money to take the steps I need to fix it."

For a few minutes, it seems from Lucas's silence that he has run out of questions. I take this opportunity to ask one of my own. Turning on the floor so I can look at him I ask,"Hey Lucas?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you asking me so many questions about being trans?"

He hesitates for a few seconds, not daring to look back at me. Is it just me, or do his dark cheeks look just a bit redder?

He moves his shoulders up and down against the floor beneath him in a shrugging motion. "I dunno. Since I met you I've found you kinda....mysterious."

I can't help but snort at that. "Me? Why?"

"You just are. Like, just looking at you. I feel like there's so much that nobody knows, and that I'll never know unless I ask."

"Aw, I'm blushing," I joke to hide the fact that I actually am. "But I'm really not that mysterious."

"You are," Lucas argues stubbornly. He finally turns to look at me, both of us too lazy to get off the floor, but now facing each other. "Meeting you was like....god, I don't know. Like finding a giant, rainbow-colored ball of yarn. It's beautiful on the outside, you know? But as you unravel it and all of its individual colors become revealed, it becomes a hundred times more beautiful. And with you, I feel like every time I ask a question, I'm unravelling you a little bit more. One day I hope I see all of your colors."

Holy shit. Did this kid just get away with comparing me to a literal ball of yarn and still flattering me? I wonder if he has any idea how smooth he is.

Clearly not, as he seems embarrassed. "Sorry, that was a bad analogy," he groans, face-palming. "The point is....I think you're pretty cool."

I giggle. "I liked it. But do you mind if I....'unravel' you a little bit?" The question feels weird coming out of my mouth, but I know he understands what I mean.

"Um. Sure."

"What's it like having ADHD?" I ask.

"It fucking blows," he laughs. "Next question."

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

Dan

At some point Sam falls asleep on my chest, and I don't notice until I hear his soft snores when the TV goes quiet suddenly. Netflix wants to know if we're still watching.

Smiling, I shut the TV off. "Sam," I whisper, shaking my boyfriend lightly. "Do you want to go to bed?"

He mumbles something incomprehensible, but snuggles up closer to me. Even though I'm hot and my shoulder is starting to cramp up, I decide to let him sleep here a little while longer for the sole reason that he is too fucking cute to move.

Not even knowing what time it is in our clock-less, windowless basement, I grab my phone from the armrest of the couch to check. I see that the time reads 7:15, but I'm more surprised to see four notifications from Cody Foster underneath that.

CODY: Hey, just checking in because I haven't heard from you yet.

CODY: Is everything okay? I'm starting to get worried.

CODY: Hello??

CODY FOSTER -- Missed Call

It's only when I realize that I don't even have Cody's number, let alone do I know what the hell he's talking about, that I realize I picked up Sam's phone by mistake. He must have left it on silent.

I strongly consider just putting back the phone and pretending I never saw the messages, but my conscience doesn't allow it. If Sam had promised to text Cody earlier and hasn't, the poor nerd must be worried sick.

Sighing in exasperation, I shake Sam harder than before. "Sam. Wake up."

He jolts awake. "Huh? What? Oh....jeez, how long was I out?" He asks, stretching as he sits up.

I massage my sore shoulder, enjoying the freedom almost as much as I miss Sam's warmth. "It's just past seven, but I'm not sure when you fell asleep. Cody messaged you a few times though."

Suddenly, Sam is completely alert. "Oh shit, I was supposed to text him," he mutters, grabbing his phone to check. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. He's probably freaking out. Hold on." He puts the phone to his ear.

I'm still a bit irritated that Cody gets even a moment of my boyfriend's attention while he's supposed to be spending time with me, but I try not to get riled up by my jealousy. I find my own phone, and distract myself by looking at memes on reddit.

"Hey Cody! Oh my god, I am so sorry I forgot to call you. I fell asleep....Yes.....Yeah, everything's fine. Actually, I think they've decided to ignore the whole thing. They hardly even talked to me when I came home."

My ears perk up as I subtly eavesdrop on Sam's half of the conversation. Is he....Is he lying to Cody?"

"How are things at your place?.....Good! Alright, well that's good to hear. Anyway, I better let you go. I've hardly done any homework since I've been home...." He laughs at something Cody says, but it sounds forced. I know what his real laugh sounds like.

"Alright, talk to you tomorrow.....Bye."

He hangs up, and I waste no time questioning him. "Why didn't you tell Cody you were here?"

Sam looks guilty. "I don't know why, but I felt kinda bad. Like, he was so worried about me earlier and was trying to be supportive and stuff....But I ended up ducking out and hiding here instead of facing my problems at home. Kinda makes me feel like a pussy, to be honest."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with ducking out once in awhile," I say, not wanting him to feel bad. "And it doesn't make you a pussy. You've dealt with a lot this school year. You deserve to catch a break every now and then."

"Yeah, I guess," Sam sighs, not sounding totally convinced. He looks down at the floor, biting his lip the way he does when he's upset about something.

I lift his chin up with my hand. "Hey. As long as you're up, why don't we go upstairs and I can make you some tea?"

Sam snorts at my suggestion.

"What?"

"I just never pegged you as a tea drinker. Isn't that a bit nerdy for you?"

"Fuck you, I can drink tea and still be a badass."

He laughs, but says nothing more about it as he follows me up to the kitchen. There we find Gabriella putting away groceries.

"Hello again, Sam," she greets him with a smile. "I did not realize you were here."

"Yeah, sorry I didn't tell you he was coming over," I say, more as a courtesy than anything. Gabby and I live with the common understanding that I can do whatever the fuck I want, just as long as I am being safe and not breaking the law.

"That is alright," she says kindly. "I'm about finished up here, so I can leave you two alone. I will be upstairs if you need anything."

"Thanks," I tell her, gratefully. "I really appreciate--"

"But first, one thing," she says with a frown. "I was wondering. Have you seen my large kitchen knife?" She points to her collection above the counter, which clearly has an empty spot where the biggest knife should be. "I cannot find it anywhere."

Sweat collecting underneath my arms as I picture the top drawer of my dresser, I put on my best innocent face. "Nope. Haven't seen it."

She sighs. "Well, I'll keep looking then." Then she leaves us.

I clear my throat, trying to mentally command my heart to slow down without Sam suspecting anything. "Anyway, tea?"

"Sure," Sam replies.

Oh god. Is it just me, or is he looking at me weird? Is he suspicious? Is he connecting dots in his head, drawing conclusions between the missing knife and the fact that I've stopped wearing my rubber bands....?

"What kind of tea do you have?" he asks, leaning up against the counter casually.

I breathe a tiny sigh of relief. No, no Dan. You're just being paranoid.

I hand him my large box of tea from the cupboard-- a collection of basically every tea known to man-- so he can pick one as I start to boil the water.

"Wow," says Sam. "You really like your tea. I don't even know half of these!"

"What tea do you like?" I ask him.

"I dunno, uh....camomile?

I roll my eyes. "Is that what you want? Out of all of the options there, you're going with the boring, predictable one?"

Looking guilty, Sam hands me a bag of camomile from the box. "I'm not in a very adventurous mood tonight."

"Very well. One of these days I am going to expand your taste in tea, however." As I'm mocking him, I grab a bag of darjeeling for myself.

While the water boils, I lean against the counter next to Sam and let him rest his head on my shoulder again, as I rest my head on top of his. More than a few times I turn my face towards his hair to inhale his citric scent, like I always do. I wrap my arms around him to pull him closer to me, and he wraps his around my waist.

And right here and now, standing in the kitchen of my parents' ridiculous mansion with my arms around my boyfriend while we wait for the water of our tea to boil, I feel a light cloud of contentment settle around me. This is true happiness, I realize. And honestly, if this is as good as it gets, I am a hundred percent okay with living in this very moment for the rest of eternity.

God damn the progression of time.

-----

We end up taking our tea up to my room and drinking it side by side on my bed. We spend a good hour there, just talking and laughing about the most random things, and it occurs to me how little we touch on the drama of our lives. For once, we don't talk about Rose or Cody, or self-harm or bullies, or any of the things that normally overwhelm our interactions at school and that lead to fights.

Instead, we talk about schoolwork and which teachers suck the most, and all of the innovative ways that the government can make school a better system if they tried. We talk a little about politics, but not too much, taking just enough time to make fun of everybody. Then we start talking about books, and begin a long and heated discussion about how physical books are so much better than those dumb E-readers.

We talk and talk until our throats are sore, or at least mine is, and I glance at my phone to see that it is already 9:00.

"Jesus! Where does the time go?" I chuckle, showing Sam.

"Oh shit," he mutters, moving to get up before stopping himself. He laughs. "Oh my god, I was about to freak out and say I need to go home. I forgot....."

"Yep," I laugh, glad he remembered. "You're stuck with me tonight."

"Rose hasn't texted me, so I assume my parents still don't even know I'm gone," Sam mutters, almost astonished.

"Well, that's good! Right?"

"I guess...." But I can tell that he's just saying that because he thinks it should be good. He pulls his knees up to his chest and lays his head on them.

"Dude, it's okay to think that your parents are shit for not noticing their own child not come home for six hours," I assure him. "And it's okay to feel bad about that. It's not like I'll be offended."

Sam smirks at me. "How do you always manage to read my mind?"

"It's a skill I've developed over time."

"Well, you're right," he sighs. "Even though I don't want to go home, I do think it's kind of shitty that they don't even know I'm not there. And I wish I didn't feel sad about it. But I do."

"And that's okay," I tell him honestly. "Even though my own shitty parents are barely in my life, I still miss them all the time. Or more like, I miss the idea of having parents. The good parts, you know? The parts like always having someone to go to when I'm in trouble, or knowing I have someone who loves me no matter what. I don't have any of that! And sometimes....sometimes I get so lonely at night that I cry myself to sleep." That last part sounds so pathetic, and it wasn't something I ever planned on confessing to Sam. But I just did.

Sam looks at me lovingly, touching my cheek softly with his hand. "You won't be alone tonight," he whispers.

Then he kisses me, and I feel myself melt completely into his touch.

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

Rose

It's disappointing, but I do have to leave Lucas's house eventually. Mainly because, at around 6:30, he realizes that his father should be home soon.

"Shit, you should go before he gets here," Lucas tells me nervously.

"Is your dad someone I should be scared of?"

"You have nothing to fear. I, on the other hand, can get confrontational with him when he starts judging my friends."

It doesn't take much reading between the lines to understand what he means. "Okay. I'll let myself out."

"No, I can go with you!" Lucas says standing up quickly. "Whoa. Head rush. Okay, let's go." He leads the way down the stairs.

"Hi Lucas," says a younger girl who greets us right at the bottom of the staircase.

Lucas grimaces. "Hey Sofia."

"Who's your friend?"

"None of your business." He pushes her aside so he can lead me to the front door, but she follows.

"What's his name?"

"Her name is Rose."

"That's a girl's name."

"Maybe because she's a girl."

"He doesn't look like a girl."

Lucas groans. "Sofia, would you just go away--"

"Be nice to your sister!" His mom calls from the living room.

Lucas clenches his fists, but walks outside with me before truly venting his frustration. "Ugh, my family is so annoying. Sorry."

"Hey, it's all good," I assure him. "And you know....if it's easier to just tell them that I'm a boy, I have no problem with that. I've pretended for fourteen years, so it's really not that big--"

But he shakes his head. "Nope. No way I'll ever lie about you. You're a girl, and no one should have a problem seeing you that way unless they're idiots. But anyway, I'll see you at school tomorrow." He gives me the quickest hug of all time before going back inside without another word.

I don't stop smiling all the way home.

-----

But when I actually get home is a different story.

First, I open the front door to what feels like utter emptiness. "Mom?" I call out nervously. "Dad?"

For a moment, nothing. I wait at the bottom of the stairs anxiously, trying my hardest to listen for any hushed voices.

But then, footsteps. "George, is that you?" It's Mom who asks.

"Yeah. I'm home." I wait for her to come down the stairs. And when she does, the sight of her face almost sends me into shock.

She looks even worse than Dan after his fight, with bruises spread all across her cheek and a cut open lip. Her left eye is almost swollen shut. "M-mom?" I stammer. "What--?"

"Your father is taking some time away for awhile," she interjects. "We think having break will be good for us."

"Mom, your face--"

"Don't worry about me, Georgie," Mom says with a smile that looks like it hurts. "I'm going to be fine. And don't feel the need to talk to anyone about this, either. This is our personal family business, and I would like to keep it personal. Okay?"

I can't say anything; I feel like my throat has closed up. I just nod.

"Good. I'm going to go back and lay down." And with that, she retreats to her room. Not even bothering to ask when Sam will be home.

I retreat to my room as well, and it isn't until I am behind the closed door alone that I fully break down.

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

Sam

While kissing Dan passionately on his bed, there are two trains of thought operating simultaneously inside my head.

Train 1: You love Dan. Whether or not you choose to admit it to anyone or even say it out loud, you know that you love him. You can feel it in the core of your bones, in the cells of your skin, in every fiber of your very being. You love him, and you love being with him....But regardless. Are you truly ready to get physical? You aren't even fifteen yet, you hate your body, and barely even understand how sex is supposed to work. Are you ready to bare the hideous wrongness of your body to this boy, no matter how much you love him? Is this truly what you want in this moment?

And Train 2: WE'RE KISSING A BOY IN HIS BED OH MY GOD WE'RE IN A BOY'S BED AND WE'RE MAKING OUT AND EVERYTHING IS SO HOT OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GODDDD ASDFGHJKLJNVKB!!!!

I push away both the logical and the horny side of me, in favor of enjoying the here and now. I want to be fully present as I feel warmth of Dan's mouth on mine, to feel his fingers of one hand in my hair while his other traces the back of my ribcage. I want to touch his face, his neck, his shoulders, chest.

The touches themselves are minimal. I think we both know deep down that we are far from ready for sex, so we make the mutual and silent decision to not, ahem, "rile each other up" more than we already are. So rather than one of us climbing on top of the other, which almost happened in the beginning, we simply lie next to each other as we kiss. We let our hands do all of the touching, keeping them above the waistlines, while our bodies themselves are set apart from each other. It does feel kind of awkward, but I think that's more because this is new to both of us. Other than the novelty of trying to figure out what the hell we're doing, everything feels just right....

Until one of my hands slips slightly under Dan's shirt.

He is quick to break away, breathing heavily and with a panicked look in his eyes. "Wait--"

But it's too late. I felt something odd. Something that definitely wasn't the bruises that he has been claiming to be bothering him. It was something of a totally different texture, but an oddly familiar one. 

"Dan, what...?" I trail off as I lift the bottom of his shirt. He practically leaps away from me, but not before I see the lines. The red lines. The thick, freshly coagulated red lines.

No.

"Sam!" He says standing up just to back away from me. "Sam, it's not what you think...."

"Dan," I say softly, standing up as well. I follow him, practically backing him into a corner. "Dan....please lift your shirt."

"Hang on a sec." He's definitely panicking. It's not only in his eyes now, but in his voice. "I can explain. I can--"

"Lift up your shirt." I'm no longer asking him. My fists are clenched, my blood positively boiling under my skin.

"Please, can we talk first?" Dan begs, still holding up his hands defensively, like a criminal surrendering. "Just let me--"

"Daniel Albright, I swear to god!" I yell, any grain of patience that remained within me now evaporated. "If you love me even a fraction of what you have claimed, show me what is under your fucking shirt."

That causes Dan to freeze in place. He swallows, then takes a deep breath. Closing his eyes, he finally grabs his shirt from the hem and not only lifts it, but takes it all the way off.

What I see in front of me nearly stops my heart.

From an inch above the waist of Dan's jeans to an inch below his neckline, there barely appears to be a centimeter of his skin that has not been marked by a blade. The cuts are thick and thin, fresh and old, and look to extend from his sides to his back as well. There are countless of them. It is worse than anything I have ever seen.

"How long?" I practically whisper, too enraged to speak any louder.

Dan sighs in resignation. "Always," he finally admits. "I never stopped."

And just like that, I'm back to yelling. "And yet you LIED to me? All this time.... all this fucking time."

"Sam, please--"

"Lying to me. Inventing some bullshit recovery story, making me trust you enough to let you take my blades from me, the rubber bands, the superior attitude, and making me feel like shit every time I fucked up once, when YOU--" I grab one of the teacups from the bedside table and chuck it at him. He ducks so that it shatters against the wall instead of his skull. "HAVE BEEN FUCKING UP THIS WHOLE TIME?"

"I know," he says in a low voice, unable to even look at me. "I'm the worst. I'm the lowest piece of human garbage to ever exist--"

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!"

"I wanted to! I swear I did, Sammy. I just--" he grabs his head in frustration, hiding his face. "I just....couldn't."

"You're a liar." I shake my head, tears rolling down my cheeks. "You've been lying to me since I met you. What else have you lied to me about?"

"Nothing! I promise!"

"But how can I trust you?" I laugh, my head aching from the pain of this realization. Cutting this whole time....never telling me....lying about it. "Do you even really love me?"

"Sam." He looks appalled, almost angry. "How could you even say that?"

"How could you?" I'm quick to turn it around. As if this son of a bitch has any right to turn anything on me. "How could you say those words to me, those words that mean so much to me, and the whole time I didn't even know who you are?"

"You know me," Dan says, his voice cracking. "And I love you."

"And I was this close to saying those words back to you. But now, I'm glad I didn't. And now you know why it takes me so long. Because when I finally say those three words to the person that means more to me than life itself, I want it to be to someone who will never lie to me!"

"Sam...." his voice seems to be begging now, one of his arms reaching out to me. As if he knows I'm going to leave. "Please--"

I smack his arm away. "Fuck you! Don't even try. I don't want to see you, or talk to you, or think about you ever again right now!" I press my fists to my eyes in an attempt to stop the tears. Having said my piece, I turn to leave.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Sam!" He cries.

I stop in the doorway. Without looking back, I tell him, "And yet, you did anyway."

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

Dan

He leaves me then, shirtless and crying against the wall like a pathetic little bitch. Which is exactly what I am.

I am pathetic. I am so pathetic, and I am a bitch, and a moron, and a loser. Especially a loser; I've lost so much in this moment.

I loved him. I wanted him. I got him, and then I had him. And I loved him and I loved him and I fucked it up, and now he's gone.