“No,” I said slowly, arching an eyebrow. “Nothing like that. He’s just … It’s just…” I looked up at Bee’s inquisitive face, and realized that as much as I loved talking to Virginia, I wanted to talk to someone about Grant who actually knew Grant, and the words began tumbling out. “He’s weird sometimes. Like, we have to meet up for all our dates; he won’t pick me up. He says his car is in the shop, but it’s been weeks now. And he’s always busy with something he doesn’t want to talk about. Like, we’re lucky if we get to hang out once a week, you know? No way football takes up that much of his time. I feel like he’s keeping things from me.”
“Maybe he’s gay,” Bee said. She obviously meant it as a joke, but I couldn’t help imagining the worst, that he only liked me for the boyish things about me. Was it possible?
“You don’t really…” I began, only to trail off. I wondered for a horrible moment if that was why he liked me, but Bee gave me a weird look and stopped my mind from swirling. “You don’t really think he’s gay, do you?”
“How would I know?” Bee said. “Just ’cause I’m bi doesn’t mean I have magic powers. I’m not the plucky queer sidekick in your romantic comedy.”
“I’m sor— Look, I didn’t mean it that way,” I said, suppressing the urge to apologize. “It’s just you kind of have dirt on everybody, don’t you?”
She laughed at the look on my face. “I’m joking! Grant’s straight as they come.” She closed her eyes and slid down onto her back like a serpent. “Parker, though? Biggest closet case I ever saw.”
“No way,” I said, shaking my head. “I told you what happened at that party! He’s like a giant homophobe!”
“That’s how you can tell,” Bee said. “You’re straight, right?”
I nodded.
“How often do you think about women having sex with each other?”
I thought about it for a moment.
“Never,” I said, shrugging.
“My point exactly! Homophobes think about gay sex all the time because they wanna have it. They insist being gay is a choice because every single day they have to choose not to have the kind of sex they want. Homophobes are super gay.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I said. “But wouldn’t that make the South—”
“The gayest place in the Western hemisphere?” Bee said. “Absolutely.”
We laughed at that idea for a moment, until the sound of footsteps drew our attention. We shared a quick horrified glance, and then I waved as much of our smoke away as I could while Bee stowed the joint. It was last period, but that was hardly an excuse for smoking on school grounds. We quietly sneaked around the side of the building and leaned past the corner, to see if we had heard correctly. My heart nearly stopped when I saw the front door to the art building standing open.
“Shit,” Bee hissed. “Shit, shit, shit. Let’s bail.”
We hurried back behind the building and froze when we saw a short, middle-aged man with a slate-gray crew cut standing next to our bags holding our sketchbooks, a thoughtful expression on his square face. He looked up at us silently and raised his eyebrows.
“Bee,” he said flatly. “Can’t say I’m surprised. How fares your senior year?”
“Uh, good,” Bee said.
“That’s good,” the man said, turning his attention back to our papers and sniffing conspicuously. Was he letting us know he knew we’d been smoking? “And might I know your friend’s name?”
“Amanda Hardy,” Bee said for me, when it was clear I wasn’t going to speak.
“A pleasure, Amanda,” the man said as he tucked our notebooks under his arm. “I’m Mr. Kurjak. Expect a call from me this weekend, both of you. Mind if I borrow your sketchbooks?”
“No,” Bee said. I just shook my head.
“I’ll get them back as soon as I can,” he said, giving us the vaguest hint of a nod as he turned and walked away.
Bee waited until she was sure Mr. Kurjak was out of earshot and said, “That could’ve gone worse.”
“Who was that?”
“The gym teacher.”
“My life is over,” I said, a sudden ringing in my ears. I breathed in panicked gulps. “I’m gonna be expelled!”
“Relax,” Bee said, shouldering her backpack. “Worst-case scenario? He maybe smelled some weed. They can’t kick you out over a smell.”
“Are you sure?”
“Definitely,” Bee said. “Probably. Maybe? It’s last bell now anyway. Let’s get burgers.”
*
We had to wait until Bee sobered up enough to drive, and I was so hungry by the time we pulled into the Krystal parking lot that I almost forgot to be anxious. Bee hopped out of the truck and strode in ahead of me. I took my time, hands in my pockets, listening to the swollen absence of the cicadas and feeling the cool touch of the fall wind on my skin. Inside, Bee was mid-conversation with a thin, prematurely balding guy in a red polo and visor.