I fall into silence and drop my gaze to my pedaling feet. I just gave Daniel like 30 percent of the real story. I left out everything about why Dad bailed. I left out that the only reason Camille was my friend was because she was the only person I knew at Bailey who was comfortable being herself out loud—like she was open about being bi and about being a total Wings of Fire fangirl—and who didn’t also make a hobby of policing other people’s identities. I left out Tyler and the song I drew and what he did to me. I left out Camille filming it and posting it in an effort to get adults to finally see how bad I was getting bullied. I didn’t tell Daniel how the video spread like wildfire on social and wound up with Mom cussing out the superintendent and yanking me out of school.
Nothing I said just now was a lie. But it was such a small part of the truth.
It occurs to me as we pedal that I could just . . . say it. All that’s keeping me trapped in this dumb girl act is me. I don’t want to be wearing this frilly shirt, I don’t want my hair down, I don’t want to have on these fitted jeans with fake front pockets and stupid sequins on the butt. I’m wearing a girl costume over boy-me so Daniel will like me.
It’s so fake. So wrong. Like I’m in drag against my will.
I look up, on the verge of telling him. But I have no idea where we are. He could turn on me as fast as Tyler did. Maybe faster, because I never kissed Tyler and I have kissed Daniel, and maybe that’ll make him furious. He doesn’t seem like the type to get furious, but I didn’t think Tyler was either, and boy, should I have taken a cue from how he acted when his little sister cracked his phone case to know how he’d respond when he felt lied to. Even though I never lied to him. Not exactly. I just didn’t tell him everything.
Like I’m not telling Daniel everything.
Daniel won’t do what Tyler did. He won’t pretend everything’s fine and then turn on me when no grown-ups are around. He won’t.
Anyway, Tyler would never have gone to so much trouble to save a dog.
Ahead of me, Daniel’s foot slips off the pedal and he bashes his shin into it. He sucks his breath in and I realize that the jagged shapes dancing through my head, the ones I haven’t been paying attention to because I was focused on myself, are the sounds of his breathing getting choppier. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“No. Yes. Fine.” He gets his foot on the pedal. His back is to me, so I can’t see his face, but he sounds like he’s doing that gasp thing people do when they’re trying not to cry.
“You want to stop for a minute? Or trade? I can haul the trailer.” I’m not sure I could, really. Sir Reginald Bevis isn’t that steadfast. He’s rusty and his shifters don’t work. It takes about all I have to keep up.
Daniel doesn’t answer. He slows to a stop. I put my kickstand down and walk to him. He smears his face with his sleeve and turns like he doesn’t want me to see.
“Hey,” I say quietly. “What’s up?”
“That sucks that all that stuff happened to you. I’m really sorry.”
“That’s why you’re upset?” Jeez. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
“No, I just—I mean yes, I’m upset that people were mean to you. That’s awful.”
“But . . .” I’m getting the idea that’s not why he’s crying.
“I don’t want to screw this up,” he blurts. “I’ve seen Dad twice since he moved and both times I cried like a stupid little kid and I’m gonna do it again and I just—” He turns away, wiping at his face with both wrists. He barks out a triangular laugh. “I’m basically a five-year-old. Or, like, a toddler throwing a fit at the grocery store. That’s my maturity level. Fit-pitching toddler.” He laughs again, but it’s more cry than laugh.
I want to pull him into my arms and fold up around him and protect him from all the ways the world makes you feel bad for having feelings. But he’s standing with his back and shoulders all stiff like if I do he’s not going to be able to keep the epic meltdown in, and it’ll make this even harder.
“We need a story,” I say to distract him. “Since the truth could end in . . . well . . .” I glance at Chewbarka watching us with her cloudy eyes, her pink tongue poking out of her mouth.
Daniel takes a deep breath. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about that.” He wipes his face. “So I thought—” His voice cracks. He clears his throat. “I thought I could say Tina found her in the woods behind the kennel. And that she stuck her in a cage till she could figure out what to do with her. And then the car wreck thing, and I can say I sort of blurted out that I would take care of Chewbarka. But that I’ve been hiding her from Mom because Mom’s so against getting a dog. But I’d say it’s only been since Friday. Not all week.”
“Right, good. That’s good.” It incorporates pieces of truth. Like I just did. “Except don’t use Chewbarka’s name? Because if she didn’t have tags, you wouldn’t know it.”
“I didn’t think of that.” Daniel cracks a small smile. “I’m glad you came along.”
A burst of joy spreads through me. “Would he ask why the dog couldn’t stay at the kennel till Tina
