25
Hump Day
Ash
Wednesday, and boy, is it a humdinger of a hump day: today’s the day I gotta get over the hump of probably being outed.
It’s a big honking hump. And I’m not at the top of my game after lying awake all night listening to the crickets and the traffic and the faraway night sirens, freaking out that being who I am means I’m never gonna succeed at a relationship with a boy. I hope my deodorant holds. Or I’m gonna have seriously spicy armpits when I see Daniel in photo class.
Sure enough, Bella’s waiting at my locker in the crowded, noisy hallway. The second she sees me, she beelines for me. “Where’s my dog? My dad knows but he won’t freaking tell me.”
“Somewhere safe.” I try to edge around her to get to my locker.
She blocks my path. “Tell me exactly where she is. Like an address. Now.”
I press my lips together and shake my head.
“Fine.” She takes out her phone. “You made your choice.”
Powerlessness invades me as she taps her screen. I might’ve shifted from scared to angry at Tyler and Jackson and the rest of those boys, but here I am again with my private business shoved into the light against my will. It won’t be long before everyone here knows my old name and what I “really” am. Even though what I “really” am has nothing to do with my biology.
At least Daniel’s secret’s still safe. Even if he hates me now.
“Yo, Bella!” someone yells.
Bella’s head and mine swivel. Griffey’s plowing through the crowd of seventh graders like the boss eighth grader he is, Esme and Sam from Rainbow Alliance in tow. “Didn’t your mom teach you it’s wrong to spread bullying videos around?”
“What?” Bella sputters. “I’m not—”
“Deadnaming is garbage,” Esme says. “It’s a horrible thing to do.” She’s not wearing her girl clothes yet. I didn’t know she was so tall, or that her voice could go so deep, and here she is using those like a shield to keep me safe when it’s probably making her feel dysphoric.
Bella steps back from her. “I don’t even know what deadnaming is—”
“It’s cruel,” Griffey says, his voice quieter than Esme’s but still steely. “It takes a person’s identity away from them. If you share that video, that’s what you’re doing.”
Bella squares her shoulders. “I just want to find my dog—”
“So blackmail is cool?” Sam says. “Maybe you should think about that a little harder.”
Esme stands even taller. “How would you feel if someone tried to dig up dirt on you and make it public?” Behind her, Zoey is at her locker, watching us with a puzzled expression.
I’m not wild about Esme trying to guilt Bella. But Bella’s shrinking in on herself, her posture slumping. “Whatever,” she says. She turns and disappears into the crowd.
Griffey grins at me. “Told you I’d fix it.”
“Yeah, I guess you did.” So why do I feel so sick? Maybe because at least Bella posting that video would take care of the job of outing me, and now I have to find another way to do it. Or maybe there’s just no good way to feel about any of this.
Griffey gives me a side hug. “Gotta jet, my homeroom teacher’s a stickler about butts in chairs before the bell.”
“Thanks,” I say faintly as he and Esme and Sam leave.
Nobody in homeroom or algebra says anything about what happened. I guess that’s a benefit of going to a huge school. But in English, Zoey gives me a weird look.
As class drones on, the butterflies in my stomach turn to bees. When the bell rings, Zoey’s at my desk in a flash. “What was up with those gay kids defending you?”
I push my folder into my bag with shaking hands. “Well,” I say. “Um.” I watch Jordan leave the room.
Zoey lets the silence stretch. If she knew how to do that as a musician, she’d be a lot better.
I clear my throat as I stand up. “I’m not . . . a girl now.”
Zoey’s eyes narrow. “What does that even mean?”
“Gender can change. It’s not based on biology.”
She shakes her head like I’m an idiot. “Did you miss the part about Tyrannosaurus Rocks being a girl band? Did you miss that the fundraiser’s called Girls Who Rock the Future?”
“No. Actually. I did not miss that.”
Zoey wrinkles her nose. “Thanks a lot. You came swooping in like you could make everything perfect for us and now, boom, you’re a freaking liar.” Her face is a thunderstorm.
“So . . . I can’t still be in the band?”
“Are you even kidding? You’re so out. You could barely focus on Monday anyway.”
I bark out a laugh. “Says the kid who—” I cut off can only play four chords.
I walk out of the room, chin up, eyes straight ahead. I’m done with these stupid games. I am who I am. If the world doesn’t like it, they can go huff Booper farts.
Griffey’s kinda green around the gills at lunch when I sit by him with my tray of rubbery pizza. “You look like you’ve been put off your tea and crumpets,” I tell him.
“Eh, that thing this morning got a little . . . well.” He shows me his phone. There are a string of comments under Bella’s latest Insta post. They’re calling her antigay, a bigot, saying she’s stuck-up and pretending to be an animal lover when she’s really a homophobe, a genderphobe, a jerk.
“Oh.” I hand Griff his phone. “That’s . . . not what I wanted to happen.”
“Me either. A couple of the commenters are in Rainbow Alliance, but most of them aren’t. I think they’re people she’s friends with.”
“Or people she was friends with.” I push my pizza away.
“Yeah.” Griffey puts his sandwich back in its bag.
We sit there looking out the window for a while. Then he says something about needing to go to the library to do research for a paper and leaves.
I fail to eat
