Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda

Anyway, speaking of Reese’s, thank you so much for the photo. That was exactly what I had in mind. Instead of actually eating one, I just wanted to IMAGINE how salty and chocolaty and awesome it would be to eat one. It’s great, because I really wanted to torture myself, but I didn’t feel like making the effort to Google Reese’s cups myself.

I would raid our own supply of leftover chocolate, but it didn’t even come close to surviving the weekend.

—Jacques

Partying harder than Blue’s mom since 2014.



7

WEDNESDAY IS GENDER BENDER DAY, which basically amounts to southern straight people cross-dressing. It’s definitely not my favorite.

We’re watching Twelfth Night in first period, because every English teacher is a comedian. Mr. Wise has this warped, ratty couch in his classroom that smells a little like beer, and I’m pretty sure people sneak in here to have sex and rub their fluids all over it after school. It’s that kind of couch. But we all fight to the death to sit on it during class, I guess because everything’s just a million times more bearable when you’re not in a desk.

Today, it’s been taken over by soccer boys in Creekwood cheerleading uniforms—specifically, Nick, Garrett, and Bram. That’s generally what the jocks do for Gender Bender. There are only about twenty cheerleaders in all, so I have no idea how they meet the demand. Maybe they all have ten uniforms each. Who the hell knows what this school spends its money on.

But I have to admit that there’s something kind of awesome about soccer calves and scuffed tennis shoes coming out of pleated cheerleading skirts. I can’t believe Bram Greenfeld dressed up. Bram from my lunch table. He’s this quiet black kid who’s supposed to be really smart, but I’ve never heard him speak unless he’s forced to. He leans way back into the corner of the couch, shuffling the toe of one foot against the other, and I never noticed it before, but he’s actually kind of adorable.

Mr. Wise has already started the movie when Abby charges into the room. Between cheerleading, the play, and all of her committees, there’s always a reason for Abby to be late to first period, but she never gets called out. It really pisses Leah off, especially because the people on the couch always seem to be willing to scoot over to make room for Abby.

She takes one look at the lineup on the couch and bursts out laughing. And Nick looks so ridiculously pleased with himself. The expression on his face is exactly the same as the day he found a dinosaur bone buried beneath the elementary school playground.

I mean, it turned out to be a chicken bone, but still.

“What the heck?” Abby says, sliding into the desk behind me. She’s wearing a full suit and tie and this long, Dumbledorian fake beard. “You guys didn’t dress up!”

“I’m wearing hair clips,” I point out.

“Okay, well, they’re invisible.” She turns to Leah. “And you’re in a dress?”

Leah looks at her and shrugs without explaining. Dressing extra feminine for Gender Bender is just something Leah does. It’s her way of being subversive.

So, here’s the thing. I would have left the godforsaken industrial-strength hair clips in Alice’s drawer where I found them if I thought I could get away with it. But everyone knows I participate in this kind of crap. Ironically, of course. But still. It would be weirdly conspicuous if I didn’t cross-dress at least a little bit today. It’s funny how it ends up being the straightest, preppiest, most athletic guys who go all out for Gender Bender. I guess they feel secure enough in their masculinity that they don’t care.

I actually hate when people say that. I mean, I feel secure in my masculinity, too. Being secure in your masculinity isn’t the same as being straight.

I guess the one thing that’s weird for me is dressing like a girl. What no one knows, even Blue, is that dressing up used to mean something to me. I don’t know how to explain it or reconcile it, but I haven’t forgotten the feeling of silk and air against my legs. I always knew I was a boy, and I’ve never wanted to be anything but a boy. But when I was younger, I used to wake up at night in April dreaming of Halloween. I would try my costume on a dozen times each October, and all through November, I obsessively fantasized about pulling it out of my closet one more time. But I never crossed that line.

I don’t know. There’s just something kind of mortifying to me about the intensity of those feelings. I remember them so clearly. I can’t even stomach the idea of cross-dressing now. I don’t even like to think about it too much. A lot of the time, I can’t believe that was me.

The classroom door opens, and there stands Martin Addison, framed by the bright light of the hallway. He managed to find a cheerleading uniform, and he even went to the trouble of stuffing his chest with weirdly realistic boobs. Martin’s really tall, so the amount of his skin on display is actually pretty obscene.

Someone in the back row whistles. “Looking hot, Adderall.”