“Teddy and his friend Mario did it. I guess they saw me in my outfit at the Quesadilla Ship fire. They said they knew I didn’t like wearing plain colors. So they added the pink for me.”
“Did you tell your teacher?”
“Mrs. Cross-Hams? Yeah, right. Don’t you remember that things always get worse when she’s involved?” He walks quickly and looks back toward town as we cross to the other side of the highway.
We walk along in silence and when we’re about to turn down Patrick’s street, I hear a skateboard and Janet’s voice cuts through the silence of the neighborhood.
“Hey dudes! Hold up!” And suddenly there she is. “Seriously, I leave town for two seconds and all hell breaks loose.”
“I thought you were in Utah visiting your aunt,” I say.
“Yeah, and I’m back now. But who cares about that, seriously, what happened to the Ship?”
“There was an accident,” I say, almost whispering as I think of that first pop and the fire that rose out of the pan.
“No kidding, I can’t believe it. Rosie must be so mad. I swear sometimes it seems like nothing can go right in this town.” She puts a hand on Birdie’s shoulder. “Mr. Bird, where are your sunglasses? I’m disappointed. And really, you guys kind of look like zombies. Why don’t you guys come to the trailer? I have a leftover pizza and you can tell me what happened to the Ship.”
Across the street is Patrick’s house. The driveway is empty, which means Patrick is still at work. Birdie looks up at me and for once he looks excited at the prospect of going to Janet’s.
And to be honest, Patrick’s shoebox is the last place I want to be. A place where we are just someone’s problem. Someone’s slack to pick up.
Anyway, who wants to live in a house with a yard all wrecked? It looks worse than it did before he started.
I don’t care about Patrick’s rule to go straight home. I have only one question for Janet.
“What kind of pizza?”
• • •
We spend the next hour eating warmed-up pizza, playing checkers, and talking about the fire.
“It’s the one crazy thing to happen here and of course I miss it by a couple hours.”
“It wasn’t entertainment,” I say. “It was horrible.”
“Of course! I’m not saying it wasn’t. But you know how it gets here. Like, no one talks about anything except when snow might fall and how long it’s been since it rained. Boring. Have you talked to Rosie?”
“No. She hasn’t answered any of our calls. Neither has Uncle Carl.”
Janet rolls her eyes. “No surprise there, I guess.”
I ignore her jab at Uncle Carl because I know she’s right and it makes me mad and sad at the same time. Because I want Uncle Carl to be reliable. I want him to be better.
It seems like Janet’s trailer is the only place on Earth Birdie and me can just exist.
“So you got back Sunday night?” I ask. “Short trip.”
“Yeah, not short enough.” She gets up and throws her pizza crusts into the trash can, then flicks a pack of cigarettes sitting on the counter. “And look who forgot her cigarettes again, wherever she is.” She takes one out but doesn’t light it. “We got home Sunday night and she immediately disappeared with Ross and hasn’t been seen since. Typical.”
It was Tuesday afternoon. “You haven’t heard from your mom since Sunday night?”
She shakes her head and looks at a lighter, which she spins on the kitchen counter.
Before I can ask her how she feels about it, she looks up at Birdie and says, “You have any more trouble with Teddy?”
Birdie sighs and tells her about his backpack.
She says, “Some kids take after their parents too much, Mr. Bird. It’s hard.”
He nods at her.
That’s when I realize Teddy got worse after we ran into him and Ross at the mall—after Patrick did nothing to stop Ross from saying all those things. And Teddy watched.
“Don’t pay attention to anyone like that,” Janet continues. “And don’t worry. I have a backpack you can use. I’ll get it.”
Janet disappears into her room and when she comes out, she has her old backpack in her hands. It’s black and covered in white stars.
“It’s not as colorful as your old one, but at least you won’t have to use a backpack covered in paint or a plastic bag for school.”
Birdie nods and says, “Thank you,” as he zips the small front pocket open and closed.
I wonder if Birdie has made the connection between Ross and Teddy and Patrick at the mall.
The wind suddenly picks up outside and the trailer windows rattle. But in here, the little heater glows red and warm.
Birdie picks his last piece of pizza apart, which is how he eats pizza.
Janet stays surprisingly quiet and just looks at him with curious eyes the entire time.
“So, Birdie,” Janet says, breaking the silence. “Do you think you’re gay?” I’m too shocked to say anything.
“I don’t know,” says Birdie in a small voice.
“Do you want to be boyfriends with girls or boys?”
“I don’t want to be boyfriends with anybody.”
“Janet,” I say, “this has nothing to do with being boyfriends with anyone. And I’ve already talked to him about that.”
“Okay, okay,” she says, waving her hands at me. She turns back to Birdie. “So, do you feel like you’re a girl, then? Have you ever heard of the word transgender?”
“Janet!” I say, smacking her leg. I don’t know exactly what it means, but I also don’t know if I’m ready to have this all swirling around. It was a lot easier with Uncle Carl and Rosie. They didn’t ask questions.
“I don’t know,” says Birdie, shrugging. “Everyone says I’m a boy.”
“But what about on the inside? Do you feel like you’re a girl on the inside?”
Birdie shrugs for the millionth time. “I don’t know. Sometimes I wish I was a girl because then it would make everything easier. But I don’t know what my mind is.”
