In a matter of days, he had gone from being invisible to being a circus attraction. Some of them were bold enough to point and laugh, but most people just stopped talking when he approached, beginning again when he was out of earshot. Even his so-called friends teased him.
“Did you really believe you were talking to Ashley, dude?”
“You told her Hallmark movies make you cry?”
“At least you didn’t share something really embarrassing, like wetting your bed! Oh wait, the stuff you said was even worse!”
“Man, of course it was a prank. Why would she talk to you?”
Calan didn’t hear anything from Ashley herself, but he assumed she was mortified to be associated with him in any way.
He had felt so humiliated that he faked an illness, went to the nurse, and called his mom, a move that only made things worse. By the next day, he was known as Candy Flakes, too soft and mushy to take a joke. How the rumor mill moved on to him being gay, he didn’t know. But the label had stuck. He’d hoped that things would be different in his sophomore year: he’d grown several inches and looked less like a boy and more like a man, but no one had seemed to notice.
Calan had learned that the best way to deal with bullies was to ignore them. Once he started doing that the rumors hadn’t stopped, but they hadn’t gotten any worse, either. Now, he’s a lovable loser: the kid who’s picked on in a way that his bullies probably believe to be affectionate. A jester of sorts, a fool. It’s become a part of his identity. A part he resents deeply and that he’d give anything to change.
But he shouldn’t be thinking about this now. In a minute, they’ll be outside Uncle Nick’s house—and who knows when he’ll get a chance to talk to Malaika again?
“You must have a done a ton of traveling through Europe,” Calan says to her now.
“Some, yes. Traveling is expensive, but many places are close. I was only in New York City for my orientation week… for the au pair program?” She pronounces au pair in the way Calan assumes that French people do, pursing her lips and making the words seem melodic and sophisticated. “But I already know I want to live there one day.”
“I go all the time.” A massive exaggeration. “If you want, we can go together.”
“Yes,” she stops on her heels and turns to him. “I would like that very much.” Malaika smiles.
Calan beams. Maybe he isn’t so bad at talking to girls after all.
Fourteen
Gina
Thursday, September 12th
Gina is standing in the foyer wearing the rhino mask when Calan walks in with Alice’s au pair.
“Uh… Mom?” His tone is tentative, embarrassed. This might be the first time she has embarrassed her son.
Gina feels her face grow red under the mask. It’s a disturbingly realistic one, too. Liz had brought several to the meeting to suggest that parents and kids dress as animals for Halloween. “To raise awareness for endangered species and farmed animals,” Liz had said. Liz is always trying to get everyone to go vegan. Gina had slipped the rhino mask on when she heard Calan walking in. She had thought it would make him laugh. Making Calan laugh is a surefire way to lift her spirits.
Now, she slowly removes the mask, trying to appear as though there is nothing out of the ordinary. Why, yes, Malaika, here in America we use rhinoceros masks at home all the time.
“Malaika, what a lovely surprise.” Gina admires Malaika’s outfit: red, high-rise flare jeans paired with a cropped white shirt and denim jacket. She recognizes her red, suede ankle boots from last year’s spring collection. “How are you?”
“Very well, Mrs. Dewar.” She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Please, call me Gina. Mrs. Dewar is my mother-in-law.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Dewar, your… husband’s brother’s wife,” Malaika pauses, as if trying to find the right word, “she asks me to call her Mrs. Dewar.”
“Well, you can call me whatever you prefer.”
“OK.” Malaika smiles, showing off her straight, white teeth. She really is very striking. “What can I help you with? Is everything all right with Allegra?” It occurs to Gina that she’s never seen Malaika without Nick’s daughter.
Calan clears his throat. “Uh, Mom, I’m going to show Malaika my graphic novel collection.”
Gina tries to hide her surprise. “Sure, honey! Want me to grab it for you?” She gestures inside the house. “Why don’t you settle in the living room? I can bring you some snacks if you’re hungry.”
Calan shifts his feet. “We’re going up.” He stares at Gina, his face pleading her not to forbid him to take this beautiful young woman up to his room.
Gina isn’t sure what to say. The pesky voice inside her head, the one from her stifling childhood, tells her to forbid it. But there’s another voice, a more reasonable voice, telling her it’s no big deal. They’re just friends. Malaika is too old to be interested in Calan—how old is she, anyway: eighteen, nineteen? And having a friend like Malaika might do wonders for Calan’s self-esteem.
“Sure,” she says, flashing what she hopes is a laid-back smile. She’s a cool mom. No big deal! “Come on in.” She walks through the living room toward the kitchen, pushes the swinging door open. Calan and Malaika trail behind her, but when Gina stops short at the granite island, Calan takes the small staircase that leads to the family
