Sitting in the one Wendy's in Sandton and dipping French fries into vanilla-flavored Frosties, John and Aureus celebrated their good fortune.

"I swear I thought I'd failed that essay portion so bad," Aureus was saying, a glistening grain of salt on her lip catching the fluorescent light.

"Yeah, well, you didn't," John countered.

He'd known for certain that Aureus was going to get into UNC. Sure, she said Chapel Hill was her stretch school, but she definitely had the grades. He, on the other hand, had failed calculus at the end of junior year and had to re-take it during summer school. It wasn't until the fat envelope with the blue-and-white seal arrived that he'd actually let himself believe he'd be joining his best friend on campus.

The two had visited the university late in the fall, when orange and yellow leaves rustled on the brick pathways and students donned their hoodies, rather than shorts and t-shirts. Aureus had raved about the art program, knowing it was all she wanted to study. John had no clue what he was interested in, but he had known as soon as he'd set foot on the campus that he felt more comfortable here than in any other place he'd ever been. After the confines of Sandton, Chapel Hill let him feel anonymous. And comfort, he'd decided, was a feeling he liked very much.

"So, you're going to come, then?" Aureus was asking.

He frowned. "To Carolina? Of course. It's the only place other than state where I applied."

"No, idiot. To the party."

He sighed. Tonight was the social event of the year, at least according to Aureus. A party at one of their senior classmates' houses. Drinks, drugs, sex, no parents. The usual. And while Aureus could occasionally persuade her father that she was sleeping over at a friend's so she could hit these parties, John had never been to one.

"Come on. It's the last high school party we'll ever have," she cajoled. "And you could use the practice."

"Practice?" He slurped some of his Frosty through the straw, enjoying the salty tang the French fries had given the milkshake.

"If you think I'm letting you be a social outcast in college," she said, pointing a fry at him, "you've got another thing coming."

They'd been friends since her first day, and John had soon found himself wondering how the hell he'd ever survived school before her. Things had changed. He'd changed. He'd made the decision to hide away his freakiness, and he'd done well. Starting with the weight set that his father had built in the garage, he'd managed to bulk up. Puberty had finally hit in full force, and he shaved at least every couple of days. His voice had deepened. All of this helped to disguise him; it was all part of his costume. He was the only one who knew he never looked in the mirror, shaving with an electric razor so he didn't have to see himself.

What hadn't changed was him. He looked differently. He acted differently, but inside he was exactly the same. Though from time to time he could persuade himself he was almost normal, usually when he was with Aureus.

"Nah," he said finally. "I'll save my partying for college."

Aureus shrugged. "Fine, please yourself. But tonight is going to be the night. I've decided."

He shook out the rest of his fries onto the tray that lay between them. "The night for what, exactly?"

She rolled her eyes. "The night. I mean, you know, for it. I'm gonna do it."

"It?" he asked, surprised.

"Well, no, not that 'it'—the other one." She looked a little shamefaced.

Aureus had had a bee in her bonnet about not going to college unkissed since mid-junior year. And while she was beautiful and even occasionally dated, she hadn't quite crossed the line yet.

He shook his head at her. "You know, it's not like you have to do this. Nobody's going to be able to tell by looking at you. You could just lie and say you've been kissed and get over it."

"No," Aureus said flatly. "I would know. I just want it done and over with, and then I can move on and concentrate on other things."

In a way, he kind of understood how coldly logical she was being, and yet the feelings weren't anything he could relate to. He'd had no desire to kiss anyone—ever.

"And what about you?" Aureus asked suddenly.

"Me?" He felt the familiar heavy weight in his stomach.

"Yes, you." She laid her hands flat on the table and looked him straight in the eye, the deep indigo of her irises surprising him as they always did. "Don't think I haven't noticed, and I've let things go. But after two years, it is starting to get a little insulting."

Okay, now he was thoroughly confused. "Insulting?"

"Listen, Birdman, I'm your bestest friend. You can tell me anything, and I'm not going to judge you."

He almost laughed at this. He couldn't tell her everything; he barely knew anything himself. Though he had a fair idea of what she was getting at, he was going to force her to say it.

She rolled her eyes again. "I know you. You're going to make me ask, aren't you? Fine. I'll ask. John Bird, are you or are you not gay, queer, homosexual, alternative, or whatever the hell we're supposed to be calling it these days?"

Coming from Aureus, the question wasn't as bad as he'd feared, and he curled his toes inside his sneakers. He'd known this day would come. They talked about everything—well, Aureus did, but sexuality was something they'd never got into. He'd always averted her questions, played dumb, or made a joke. How was he supposed to explain anything?

"Come on, then. Spit it out," she said, mock impatiently.

He pushed the tray away from him, letting her take the rest of his fries. "Aur, it's . . . complicated."

She raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"I . . . ugh." He looked down at the table. "Why now? Why here? In Wendy's? Really? That's where we're going to have this conversation?"

She laughed. "Well, I can think of worse places to come out," she said. "Why now? Because we're about to get a brand new start, that's why. We're going to a place where nearly no one knows us and where you get to re-make your image, to be anything you want. And before we go, I'd kind of like to know what I'm dealing with. I mean, am I going to have to compete with your girlfriend, or do I get to go shopping with your boyfriend?"

John laughed. Aureus had always had a way of making even the most serious things seem light-hearted, of making him feel more comfortable with himself, and he loved her for it.

"The truth is, Aur, I just don't know," he admitted. "I don't really like boys or girls."

There, he'd said it. He looked up at her and was surprised to find her nodding.

"Interesting," she said. "Asexual?"

"Huh?"

"Asexual? Like not really interested in sex at all?"

He shrugged. "I guess."

"Well, that's okay, then. No shopping . . . but no competition, either. I can live with that."

She was so matter-of-fact that he helped himself to another French fry. "So this happens, then?" he asked.

"Sure, I've read about it online. There are some people who just identify as asexual. They're simply not interested. It's not common, but it's not weird, either."

She slapped his hand as he reached for another fry. Asexual. He rolled the word around in his head. It was a label, one other people apparently shared, which was comforting. But he was unsure if the word really fit him. If he was really, truly honest with himself, he did have sexual feelings. He just didn't know what they pertained to, that was all. He decided to do more research into this whole asexual thing. But in the meantime, the word would prevent further awkward questioning from Aureus, so he accepted it.

"Need to come crash at my place later?" he asked.

Aureus nodded. Since Devon had gone off to state on the promised full baseball scholarship, John had moved downstairs to the basement rec room. This made it easy for Aureus to sneak in and out if she needed a place to stay after a party.

"Gotta get up early, though," she said, sucking down the rest of her Frosty. "I promised I'd be home in time for church."

John grimaced. "Really? Why you still believe in all that bullshit is beyond me."

She smiled indulgently at him. This was an old argument. "You wouldn't understand because you don't believe," was all she said, calmly. "Anyway, it's not like I'm asking you to go with me."

"Good, 'cause I'm not getting up at the crack of dawn on a Sunday. All finished?"

She pushed the tray towards him, and he got up to take it to the trash. When he came back, she was already standing.

"Should I drop you off at home or somewhere else?" he asked.

"Home is cool. Come on, I'll race you to the car."

With a clatter of footsteps and much to the annoyance of everyone else in the place, they ran out into the parking lot to John's car. Another change. He'd bought the car in payments from his father with money he'd earned working a backbreaking yard maintenance job during his summer vacations. He'd taken the job because he liked plants but had rapidly found that while plants were great, digging holes, watering and mowing lawns, and tilling soil were not so great. But he did get his dad's old car, which meant he was mobile.

Aureus jumped into the passenger seat and was turning the music up before he'd even got the engine to turn over. Trashy 'seventies disco blared out of the speakers, and as John turned out of the parking lot, he couldn't help but join in with her singing.

***

Knowing his parents were home, he was careful not to let the screen door bang as he went in.

"Hey, honey!" his mom yelled from the kitchen. "Hungry?"

"No, thanks," he said, walking in to find his mom and dad sitting in front of a half-eaten pot roast. "I grabbed something earlier."

"Good day?" asked his mom. He noticed her hair had slight streaks of gray, visible only in the overhead light.

"Sure," he said, wondering when his mom had started to get old.

His father lowered his glasses and peered over them. "Where've you been?" he asked grumpily.

Suddenly, John got the feeling he might have walked into something. Something was going on here. His mom was way too bright and cheery, and his dad was grumpy, which generally meant his mother had forced him to do something he didn't want to do.

"Just out with Aureus," he said, going to the fridge and grabbing a juice carton.

John turned back in time to see his mom shoot a meaningful look at his father, who exhaled loudly and nodded. "Son," he said, and John was already on edge—his father rarely addressed him as such. "You and I need to have a talk. Go on downstairs, and I'll be down in a minute."

John shrugged and picked up his juice. "Sure, Dad," he said and made for the stairs.

He barely had time to consider what was going on before his father followed him.

"Sit down, Son," he said.

John sat on his desk chair, turning it around to face his dad.

"I talked to Devon the same way I'm going to talk to you right now," his father said, the soft burr of his southern accent making the words sound mellifluous. "Your mom thinks that you're spending a lot of time with Aureus, and it's time we had that little father-and-son talk."

John's heart sank. Seriously? He'd managed to go for most of the last two years without talking about sex, without thinking about it, burying what had happened long ago in front of his bathroom mirror down deep inside him. And now he had to deal with it twice in a day.

His father pulled at the knees of his pants, then sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm no fool, son," he said, not looking John in the eye. "I know you kids know a lot more than I did at your age. And I'm not going to lie—there was a time when your mom and I, well, we thought you might be...I thought you might be one of them queers. And I'm glad you're with this girl. She's nice and pretty and all."

John shook his head in disbelief. His father had blushed a bright shade of crimson, and he was sure his own face could match. He held his breath and let his dad go on. Best to get it all over with.

"But you gotta be safe these days," his father was saying. "You don't want to get the girl into trouble, and you don't want one of them diseases, neither. So that said, I've left something in the bedside drawer." He tried to clear his throat, and it turned into a cough. "And, er, well, if there's questions and such, then you can come and ask." He nodded, seemingly relieved his speech was over and done with.

"Um. Thanks." John's voice was squeaky, and he didn't know if he was trying not to laugh or trying not to cry. What he did know was he wanted this to be finished.

"Right." His father stood. "I'll be going, then. Get your homework done. And don't forget to bring your glass up and wash it. Don't want no ants down here."

As his father made his escape, John leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Jesus Christ. Could today actually get any worse?

It took him three days to be able to open the bedside drawer. When he did, it was only to grab the box of condoms without looking at them and stick them in his bag to be thrown away in a dumpster later. The last thing he needed was a visible reminder of his freakiness.

*****