But I didn’t. Because he was ridiculously cute, and because I was stupid enough to hope he’d still like me once he learned I’m not always a girl. The night before school started in August, I sent him a link to my Insta, where I try out different looks. I wanted it to come from me. I didn’t want him to find out from the other kids that I’m the flip-flop freak, the kid who can’t pick a gender. That I only had one friend at school, Camille, because once Griffey wasn’t there to defend me anymore, everyone except her acted like I had chronic cooties.
He wrote back Cool thx right away. Like before he could’ve had a chance to look at the link. And then there was nothing. I spent a while drawing a few measures of his favorite song. I didn’t really like his music taste, but I’d told him about my weird thing where I see sounds and sometimes draw cartoon versions of them, and he said it would be cool to see what that song looked like. I decorated the sketch with music symbols instead of the silly stick figures I started adding to my drawings in sixth grade round one when Mom and Dad were fighting a ton and I needed a distraction. I didn’t want Tyler to think I was making fun of the song. I planned to give him the drawing at the bus stop in the morning.
Turns out the more you like a guy, the worse it sucks when he turns on you.
My phone pings with a text. I blink back to the woods and the green and the trilling cicada. Mom wants to know if I ate something healthy.
A protein bar, I tell her. I will not shrivel away to nothing.
Sorry it didn’t work out with the dog, she writes. I love you even when you’re a stubborn cuss. Tell Griff I said hi.
Love you too, even when you stink like truck grease. I pocket my phone and head for the gas station. It’s not like I’m crushing on Daniel as hard as I crushed on Tyler. At least not yet. And Booper liked Daniel.
Loved him, really. Like so recklessly it kinda embarrassed me.
I gotta take this one step at a time, like Mom’s always saying. Don’t eat your lunch for breakfast is one of her favorite sayings. Be where you are. Life isn’t a problem to solve; it’s a reality to experience. She’s got a million of them from a meditation app she’s addicted to. Mostly it annoys me when she whips them out, but sometimes . . . they’re legit useful. Like now, when I’m not sure what I’m feeling. What I want. What I am.
The gas station has one unisex bathroom, which solves that problem before it gets off the ground. I do my business, then text Griffey and ask him to cover for me if my mom texts him tonight. I tell him I’ll explain later. I refill my water bottle and head back to the tent.
When I get there, I hear a soft little snore. I unzip the door as quietly as I can. Daniel is zonked out with Chewbarka on his chest, his hands resting on her back. She’s looking at me like she’s found her place in the world and if I wanna come in that’s cool, but I better not move her off this excellent boy who is definitely hers, thank you very much.
I smile and pull my sleeping bag over the half of Daniel that isn’t being used as a dog bed. I lie down next to them. I’m not glad that stuff with Tyler turned into a way-too-public nightmare that chased me out of the school district. But at least it led me to this smelly tent in a patch of honeysuckle woods, watching a fascinating boy sleep with his mouth hanging open.
His lips look so . . . I don’t know. So soft.
I wonder what it would be like to kiss them.
8
The Shape of a Snore
Daniel
I wake up with a start, confused about where I am and what this warm pile of orange fluff on my chest is and why my cheek is wet—
Oh god, I’m drooling.
I sit up fast, wiping it off with my arm. Chewbarka tumbles onto Ashley’s Darth Vader sleeping bag with a grunt of surprise.
Ash is holding a small sketchbook and grinning at me. “Did you know you snore?”
“Umf. I guess I know now.” I pat my face to make sure I got all the spit. “You must think I’m the coolest kid at Oakmont. Darkroom hysterics, dog drama, drooling.”
“So far, yes, I do.” She says it like she means it. “You snore like waves. It’s . . . delicate.”
“What?” I pull Chewbarka into my arms. I can’t even snore in a manly way? Jeez.
Ash hesitates, then turns her sketchbook and shows me a pattern of waves. “This is your exhale.” She traces the bottom of the first wave as it swoops up. “Then your inhale gets stuck on some flappy whatever valve in your throat, and it makes this choppier noise.” She points at the tops of the waves. “It happens a couple times, like a stone skipping on a pond. Then you exhale and it’s smooth again.” Her finger follows the downslope of the last wave, which has a little stick figure surfing on it. “Super-arty snores. Nice work.”
A grin spreads across my face. “That is the weirdest thing anyone’s ever said to me right when I woke up.”
She flips the sketchbook closed and jams it back in her bag.
“No, don’t be embarrassed. It’s cool. Actually . . . could I have it? The drawing?”
She looks at me sideways like she’s trying to hide
