This would be all right. I didn’t understand all the details of this gender stuff, but I didn’t need to. I understood Toni, and that was enough.
For now.
9
NOVEMBER
FRESHMAN YEAR OF COLLEGE
1 WEEK APART
TONI
“Mine started last Monday,” Joanna says. “When did yours?”
“Monday, too,” Felicia says. “Wait, are we all in sync now? We should ask Ebony.”
“We could ask—” Joanna says, then stops. They both turn toward me, then turn back again just as fast.
Good. I’m trying to read, and I can’t focus with them yammering.
All four of us set up our desks in the common room since our bedrooms are so tiny. Which means I have to listen to Felicia and Joanna’s boring-as-hell conversations all the time.
I can’t deal with it. Not tonight.
I have two papers due in the next forty-eight hours, and I’m dangerously behind on the reading for my Supreme Court seminar. Last night I was on video chat with Chris until three in the morning, nodding along to a story about Steven’s latest episode of borderline infidelity. I haven’t slept more than five hours in one night since October. I’ve had the same sinus infection for the past three weeks. I started using they as a gender-neutral pronoun, but it’s harder than I thought it would be. My girlfriend is pissed at me.
And now I have to listen to my roommates talk about their stupid periods.
“Do you think she even still gets hers?” Felicia whispers.
“I can hear you,” I say. “I’m five feet away.”
Joanna and Felicia giggle behind their hands.
“Why are you still here anyway?” Felicia asks. “Aren’t you supposed to be at that thing?”
I rub my temples. “What thing?”
“For your friend,” Joanna says. “The Korean girl. Or guy, or whatever.”
“Oh, hell.” I forgot about Eli’s party. I slam my laptop closed and run to the bathroom to fix my hair.
“What is it?” Joanna calls from the common room. “Is it her birthday?”
“No, it’s not his birthday,” I call back, breaking my pronoun rule in Eli’s honor. “It’s just a party.”
Actually, the party is what the guys call a “secular-slash-Buddhist bar mitzvah.” Today Eli started on testosterone. According to Nance, it’s time for Eli to “get down with his bad manself.”
Which is great and all. It’s just that I’ll probably be looking at an all-nighter after I get back. Well, Eli won’t hold it against me if I only put in a quick appearance.
I ignore Joanna and Felicia’s cackles on my way out and pull my hood up against the wind. I trudge across the Yard, dodging a hyper-Japanese tour group by the John Harvard statue, and stepping carefully over slush puddles.
I can’t believe it’s already this cold in November. Massachusetts sucks.
I grumble to myself the whole way to the guys’ house, but I manage to smile when I knock on their common room door. Low voices and laughter drift out from the other side.
Nance opens the door. “Hey. We wondered if you were ever going to show.”
“Sorry. I fail.”
“Whatever,” they say. “Come in. We’re playing I Never.”
The last thing I need is alcohol. “Can I play with Diet Coke?”
“If you put a big load of rum in it.”
“Guess I’ll just watch, then.”
Nance shrugs and points me to an empty couch. Everyone else is sitting on the floor, laughing with heavy-lidded eyes. The game must have been underway for a while. The room looks the same as usual except that there’s a banner with a stork on it that reads It’s a Boy! strung up over the bar and a brown statue of Buddha with a balloon tied around its neck next to the chips bowl.
“Hey, man,” everyone choruses as I pass. Derek, who seems more sober than the others, looks up and nods at me. I nod back.
Eli is lying faceup on the floor, eyes half-closed, head lolling.
“Congrats, dude,” I say as I step over Eli’s spread-eagled form.
“Is that T?” they say groggily. “Where you been, T? I missed youuuuuu.”
“Sorry I’m late. Roommate issues.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Eli gurgles. “Sure. Totally.”
“Yo, Eli,” says Andy, poking them in the side. “It’s your turn, man. Think of something you’ve never done.”
“This game sucks,” Eli moans. “I’ve never done anything.”
“Then how are you already so drunk?” I ask.
“I’m cheating.”
“He is,” Pete says. “You missed it, T. Nance says she’s never streaked in the Yard, and Eli drinks. Lacey says she’s never had a threesome with two guys, and Eli drinks. Derek tells some long-ass story about masturbating to Madonna or some bull, and Eli—just guess.”
“Drinks?” I say. “Seriously, you guys?”
“I wasn’t talking about masturbating to Madonna,” Derek says. “I was saying I didn’t understand her interpretation of sexual empowerment philosophy until the Hard Candy album and—”