For a few seconds, no one says anything. Probably because we don’t know if he’s supposed to know.
We don’t really know anything.
Mama would have known exactly what to say.
But she isn’t here.
All I know is that Birdie is fine just the way he is.
“No,” I say firmly. I look at him until he makes eye contact with me. “It’s not bad that you don’t know, okay? You’re perfect just the way you are.”
The silence takes over again and I wonder if what I just said is actually true because sometimes it feels like you have to know the answer. Because what does it mean if he doesn’t know? If you aren’t a boy and you aren’t a girl—then what are you?
But then I think, what if he does know? What if he knows he’s a girl but he just can’t say it? What if he’s too scared?
“Where did you hear about all this?” I ask Janet.
“The Ellen Show.” Janet laughs then, her cackle filling the small space of the trailer living room, making me feel lighter again. “I can find some information online for you guys, maybe.”
I sit quietly because it’s all so much, and I worry that it’s all too much for Birdie. But he just has this small smile on his face and his feet swing off the tall kitchen chair. He’s looking in, as Mama used to say. He’s looking in, and he’s happy. After everything that’s happened, he still doesn’t really care what other people think.
It’s here in Janet’s cluttered trailer with cold pizza and the smell of old cigarette smoke that the ground feels totally solid. The walls are close and safe and the air is warm, like this is our own haven, which is a word I looked up in the dictionary after Rosie first invited us to the Quesadilla Ship and gave us warm plates of food. A haven—a place of shelter and safety, a refuge.
I look over, and now Birdie’s laughing about something Janet’s said that I missed.
Their laughter builds as Janet combs Birdie’s hair into two pigtails and then adds a bunch of tiny rose clips. She wraps a red feather boa from her mom’s room around his neck. They sit huddled together as Birdie shows her his Sudoku puzzle book and tries unsuccessfully to teach her the mystery of numbers one through nine.
I sit and watch them, and get my observation notebook out.
**Observation #787: Tornado Sounds
Nothing fits better in the ear than your best friend’s voice.
• • •
After an impromptu fashion show, more pizza, and two more games of checkers, I get up and use the bathroom. I’m washing my hands when from outside comes a screech of truck brakes, tires crunching gravel, and then a yell. I’m out of the bathroom immediately and Janet is there with Birdie.
“Get in my room and don’t come out,” she says, pushing us back while looking toward the front door.
There’s more yelling outside, words that I don’t quite understand, and shouts, and Janet’s lazy dog, Lucky, starts barking. It is late, I realize. Patrick is probably off work by now.
I can’t see anything out Janet’s window, but I hear a truck or car door open and close and Janet yells, “Mom!”
Then a man shouts, “You think I care about that? Wow. I always knew you’d do something like this! Well, we’re here now, Kathy, so where is it? I drove you all the way back, so get my money.”
Now Janet’s shouting, telling him to leave or she’ll call the cops, and Janet’s mom is yelling too, but I can’t understand her, and at one point I think I hear Janet’s phone ringing, but it sounds like it’s stuck in the couch. “You owe me! I know you have it. You can’t just use four hundred bucks and then expect to not pay it back!” The man’s voice is louder now, and I step outside Janet’s room to try and get a better look through the front window. I see a truck with the driver’s-side door open, the headlights beaming, lighting the swirling dust from the gravel road as it floats up and around a man in jeans. It’s Ross.
“You’re out of your mind,” Janet’s mom says, pointing at Ross. Her skin is darker than Janet’s, but under the harsh fluorescent porch light and the truck headlights, it glows almost white. She turns toward Janet and says, “Janni, get back inside.” But Janet doesn’t move.
Ross says, “You know I’m not leaving until I have it.” Janet’s mom tells him that the money isn’t here and Lucky keeps barking like a maniac. Janet yells again and there is more gravel crunching.
“You get! Me and your mom are talking!” yells Ross, and Janet screams at him and there is more gravel crunching crunching crunching underfoot.
And then I’m opening the front door to help Janet, but as soon as I see Ross, recognition flashes across his face.
Ross looks up at me and says, “What in the—? What are you doing here?”
He steps toward the door and Janet says she’s calling the police.
And that’s when I see Ross look next to me and I know that Birdie has followed me out of Janet’s room.
Ross kind of laughs and I can tell that maybe he’s not quite solid on his feet. “And what’s that gay boy doing here? This place is a freak show!”
Janet rushes into the trailer and closes the door behind her, locking us in. Ross starts yelling at Kathy for the kinds of friends she and Janet have and what is happening to this town, and he continues to swear at her and tells her to stop crying.
Janet’s also cursing because she can’t find her phone to call the police and that’s when a second truck drives up and everything goes real quiet. I back into Janet’s room, pushing Birdie behind me and closing the door, worried about
