I smile at Iris. “Thanks again. It was great meeting you.”
“You too.” She walks us to the door. “Be safe getting home.”
Once we’re in Ash’s mom’s car, Ash in the back seat with me this time, I can’t stop crying. It’s not an ugly cry. It’s a release of all the tension from the past week. The past two years. The past whole freaking life. Tears of gratitude that Chewbarka will be okay, that I think I’ve finally found people who understand and support me.
I curl up and drop my head into Ash’s lap. It’s forward of me, but I need human contact, and I hope Ash will be cool with it.
Ash runs their fingers through my hair as I drip tears on their jeans. Their hand feels so nice. As nice as it feels to cry without guilt. Without feeling weak or stupid for it.
After a long time driving in silence, the tears slow. “Why did you decide to tell Bella without asking me?” I say thickly.
Ash’s hand stops moving. “I didn’t. She was behind me in the hall and saw a photo of Chewy you texted me.”
“Oh. So you—” Oops, I feel like a jerk. “You didn’t find her and tell her?”
“No. She recognized Chewy right away. She asked if she was hurt and I said no. So then Bella realized Chewy was alive, and that I knew where she was. I didn’t tell her you had her.”
“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I assumed you told her on purpose.”
“It’s okay. Everything worked out.”
I wrap my arm around Ash’s legs. “You’re the nicest person I know.”
Ash laughs softly. “You’re the nicest person I know.”
“I saw your Instagram.”
Ash’s hand starts moving through my hair again.
“It’s amazing. You’re an artist with clothes.” Oops. “I mean clothes are your medium. Your palette. Not like you’re an artist who wears clothes. Even though you do.” Ugh.
Ash makes a pssht sound and giggles.
“Should I call you ‘they’?” I ask. “Or he, or she? Whatever you want, I’ll use.”
“They,” Ash says like they’re trying it out. “They/them. Yeah, I guess I’m they/them. For now. I’ll keep you posted.” I can hear the smile in their voice. “It’ll change, for sure.”
“I hope you wear some of those outfits to school. They were great. Especially that skirt with the fall colors.”
Ash is quiet, and I think maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Maybe it sounded like I preferred when they were a girl.
Which might be true. I don’t know.
Not that it matters, because Ash is Ash no matter what I prefer, but still—
“I’ll think about it,” they say, and I’m glad for the interruption to my thoughts. Ash moves their hand to rest on my arm.
It’s comforting.
Ash asks their mom if she’d be willing to take us to see Chewbarka soon.
“Of course,” she says. “Maybe we can help Iris out with that adoptathon. She seemed to have her hands full.”
“That’d be amazing,” I croak. My nose is clogged from crying.
We sink into another comfortable silence. I close my eyes and try to work out what to tell Mom and Dr. Snyder. It takes a while of thinking and sniffling my stuffy nose, but I cobble a plan together: I can tell Dr. Snyder I was keeping her in a tent, which isn’t a lie. And I can tell him she got out, and I tried to find her but she’s gone.
It’ll be hard to lie to his face without crying. But maybe, for once, tears could be useful. Because it’ll look like I feel guilty about losing her.
As for Mom . . . well. I’ll try a wild new tactic and tell Mom the truth. And hope she’ll support me once she gets done being mad.
I really want her support. Need it.
Ash nudges my shoulder and points to Google Maps on her mom’s phone stuck in the vent clip. “We’re almost to your neighborhood.”
I sit up and wipe my face with the back of my arm. “Can you drop me off at the end of the street?” I ask Ash’s mom.
“I’d like to see you get safely inside,” she says.
“My mom’s going to be mad. She might yell.”
“She’ll be relieved first. Then mad.”
That’s probably true. “So maybe . . . a couple houses down?” I’m not in a hurry for Ash to see me get yelled at in my front yard.
“I’ll park with the lights off and make sure you get in. Then we’ll leave.”
“Thanks. And thank you so much for doing this. It’s great of you.”
“Glad to help. But try to keep things tamer, will ya? All these midnight drives are turning my green hair gray.” She pats her head.
I laugh. “Of course. Um, here is good.” We’re three houses away.
She parks, turns off the lights, and cuts the engine.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Ash. “For everything.”
“Sure. I’ll see you in a few hours at school.”
Oof, that’s soon. “Okay. Bye.” I want to do something else, a hug maybe, I don’t know, but Ash’s mom is right there. So I get out and close the car door as quietly as I can.
Our living room light is on. I take my key out of my pocket and slide it in the lock. I twist the doorknob, but it’s already opening.
Mom slams into me. “Oh my god, Danny! I was so worried!” She hugs me hard.
I’m smothered, but I hug her back. Her arms feel good even though she’s about to rip my head off. She finally lets go and grips my shoulders, her hands like iron claws. “Don’t you ever! Do this! Again!” She hugs me again, spins me, and pushes me into the living room. “Sit.”
Mitch is on the couch, his hands pressed together and his mouth grim. “Well, you’re not dead. Good job freaking everybody out. Truly A-plus work. Extra-credit points.”
“Don’t tell me you were actually concerned.”
“Of course not.” He has the wherewithal to look mad, even through the worry. “Just don’t do this crap ever again. Mom’s been driving me nuts.”
Mom
