“We made really good progress,” Otis says.
“I agree,” Erin says, closing her laptop.
“So now what?” Otis says.
“Now what, what?”
“What are you doing right now?”
“After homework and before dinner, I watch an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation.”
“Can I join you?” Otis says. “I don’t have to be home until dinner.”
Erin narrows her eyes as she tries to think of a good reason why not. Because that’s how I’ve always done it does not seem like an adequate reason. And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to sit next to someone besides Spot while she’s watching it. It’ll be like an experiment, she thinks. Another way to challenge herself.
“Fine,” she says.
“Great!” says Otis.
Erin pulls out her phone and taps a few times.
“What are you doing?”
“I have an app on my phone that randomly generates numbers. That’s how I choose which episode to watch.”
“That’s quite a system.”
“It’s so I can practice being comfortable with surprise.”
Otis does that weird smile again, the one like he’s laughing at her but in a nice way. “How’s that working out for you?”
“Fine, thank you.”
The number is one hundred seventeen. The episode is “The Outcast.”
“What’s wrong?” says Otis.
“Nothing,” says Erin. “What makes you ask that?”
“Your face,” he says. “You looked sad for a second.”
Erin is not sad. She feels something, and maybe it was strong enough to do something to her face, even though she’s not quite sure what it is. The thing is, this is one of her all-time favorite episodes. She is not sure she wants to share it with Otis Goldberg. She is not sure she is ready to let him see something she loves.
“Have you ever watched this show before?” she says.
“I think so,” he says. “Maybe a couple of times on the Syfy channel or something.”
“It is the greatest show ever on television.”
“Okay.”
“So don’t talk during it.”
“Okay.”
“Try not to move too much either. It’s distracting.”
“Okay.”
Erin finds the episode and presses play. She folds her legs and puts a pillow on her lap. She tunes Otis out as she enters deep space, as she joins the crew of the Enterprise as they encounter a genderless alien species called the J’naii, for whom sex and gender specificity are considered an abomination. To be male or female, to want someone who is male or female, is primitive, unevolved. The only right way to be is androgynous. Sexless.
But Soren, one of the J’naii crew members, is different. She considers herself female. She falls in love with Riker, the epitome of the human male. She is an abomination. She must be fixed. Riker can do nothing to save her. Their love is not strong enough. She is not strong enough.
Soren allows herself to be reprogrammed, to be turned back to “normal.” She lets her people convince her that loving Riker was a sickness, that her gender was shameful, that sex was shameful. It is a mistake she vows to never make again. Better to be safe. Better to blend in. Better to keep her distance from the destructive influence of desire.
“Well, that was intense,” Otis says as the credits start to roll.
“If you don’t have anything nice to say,” Erin says, “don’t say anything at all.”
“I liked it,” he says. “I really liked it. You kind of look like that Soren character.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Yes.” That infuriating smile again.
Erin forgets to look away. By the time she does, it’s too late. They made what could be described as meaningful eye contact. For a moment Erin’s chest simultaneously burns and feels caved in. For a moment she wishes Rosina were here. She wishes she could ask her what it is she’s feeling.
“It’s almost time for dinner,” she says. “You should leave now.”
As if on cue, Erin’s mom bursts through the kitchen door. Was she listening this whole time?
“How are you doing, kids? How was the episode? Oh, looks like you enjoyed the snacks, ha ha ha. Otis, would you like to stay for dinner? No? Well, you’re welcome any time. Really, I mean it. I really hope to see you again soon. Right, Erin? Honey?”
Mom is quiet just long enough for Otis to leave, then the verbal firing squad starts right up again. “He seems like such a nice boy. So glad you invited him over, sweetheart. I wish you would invite friends over more often. You know, I haven’t seen Rosina lately. How’s she doing? Do you think Otis is going to come over again soon? Oh, I really hope so. Honey, I’m so proud of you. You’ve been showing so much growth lately. You’re taking a lot more chances socially and—”
“I ate cheese,” Erin says.
“What?”
“I ate cheese and my stomach hurts so I’m going to skip dinner.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I’m going upstairs now.”
Strange feelings follow her, and they have nothing to do with cheese. Missing Rosina. Memories of Otis’s smile. The way his body threw off the balance of the couch, how Erin listed slightly toward him over the course of the episode, how when it was over they were only inches apart. How he said she looked like Soren.
Erin is due for her biweekly head shaving. Also a good time for a bath. She strips naked and stands in front of the bathroom mirror, watches the reflection of her long, thin fingers as she pulls the electric razor in careful tracks over her head, leaving a clean quarter inch of hair. When she is done, she looks at herself in the mirror. Maybe she does not hate what she sees. Maybe she does not blame the image reflected back at her for everything bad that has happened.
US.
“Ladies!” the cop at the front desk yells. “I need you to calm down!”
There are at least twenty girls crammed into the tiny waiting room of the Prescott police station. Without Margot there to take control of the situation, everyone is talking at once, trying to explain to the cop why they are there. No one’s getting very far, especially Sam Robeson, whose theatrical bent has reached epic proportions; she seems to have slipped into a Shakespearean accent accompanied by dizzying hand motions as she attempts to lecture the clueless cop.
“It’s a good thing Erin’s not here,” Rosina says to Melissa. “All this noise would kill her.”
“Someone’s got to do something,” Grace says, to no one in particular.
“Um, hello?” Rosina says. “Maybe that someone is you.”
Without giving herself time to talk herself out of it, Grace pushes her way to the front desk. She turns around and faces the crowd, raises her arms in the air until eyes start moving in her direction. “Hey, y’all,” she says. “Can we quiet down a little?” To Grace’s amazement, the room actually hushes and listens. “Unless anyone has any objections, I’m going to talk to the officer and explain what we’re doing here. If I miss anything, please feel free to chime in, but I think we’ll be more effective if one person handles most of the communication right now. Does that sound okay?”