They’re talking, whispering among each other. Drew says something and Sinéad hides her giggles poorly behind her hand. I can’t hear what they’re saying past the music, but I can’t look away. My eyes are glued to them, to the way Sinéad’s features soften every time their eyes meet and the way Drew leans into her now when they talk. He used to be so passive about entering her personal space.
“Max? It’s your turn.” Jacy nudges me to get my attention. I flinch, then whip around, suddenly self-conscious, and accept the beer pong ball.
The party has already been going for several hours. I’m reasonably drunk, but the buzz doesn’t help me ignore them. They’ve been walking around the party together all night. Inseparable. It does something to me, every time I see them. Like it carves out a little piece inside of me, opens up another bit of space that is taken up by their… togetherness.
It’s not even that I’m constantly watching them, or that I’m alone because they’re hanging out together. Right now, I’m playing beer pong with Jacy, Leslie, and Theo on my team. Anita mixed my drinks for me earlier and I’m sure I could join her little group in the far corner and even Drew and Sinéad would let me sit with them. They’re not that all over each other yet. But their developing relationship is a constant presence at the back of my mind.
The plastic of the ball is smooth against my fingers as I draw circles over it with the pad of my thumb. It weighs next to nothing. I raise my hand to shoulder height, then throw the ball. It doesn’t even get close to hitting.
“Noooo!” Jacy whines dramatically, without seeming at all upset. On her next turn, Anita hits the last cup on our side of the board and wins the game.
“Another match?” Leslie asks, but I shake my head.
“I’ll go outside for a bit, get some fresh air.”
“Want me to come with you?” she offers.
“No thanks. I’ll be back in a bit.”
The outside has an immediate calming effect on me. The world is quieter, once I close the terrace door behind me, the air cleaner, cooler. There’s a small group of smokers sitting in the lawn chairs, but I don’t join them. Instead, I stroll to the far end of the backyard, where flowerbeds surround a little pond. There’s a bench there, looking towards the house. I sit, lean back, and watch the events through the glass.
They’ve already started another round of beer pong. Right that instant, Theo throws his arms into the air, cheering. But I don’t hear it. They’re on mute. In another world.
I wonder how tonight would feel if I was already out to everybody. Would I be able to have more fun? Would I laugh freely and dance, or would I still be hung up on Drew and Sinéad.
With a sigh, I pull out my phone. I didn’t bring my notebook, so this’ll have to do.
I watch you from the other side of the glass.
I don’t know whether I am outside or inside,
But I know that I am
S e p a r a t e .
So I walk my rounds,
Up and down and up and down
The glass front,
Drawing circles around myself.
The sound of approaching steps makes me look up from my melodramatic tirade. It’s Sinéad, walking towards me with a pleasant smile.
“Hiya!” she says, waving.
“Chatting with Ina and Tom.” She smooths out her skirt, then sits next to me.
“How’s progress?” I really don’t feel like having a conversation right now. But then, she’s my friend and I’m supposed to be happy for her. I’m determined to be happy for her. I don’t want to be ashamed of myself when I think back on this in ten years, when none of them even remember me anymore. I’ll do right by the people who are nice to me. I owe it to them.
This right now is the perfect possible outcome, because I will leave either way. I don’t have any right to this.
Like wind across the lake’s surface.
“It’s going so amazingly!” she gushes. Her face radiates a giddy joy. “He was always so kind and fun to be around, even before your plan, but now? He’s, like, so aware of me now! He goes out of his way to talk to me, we text at night and first thing in the morning when I wake up and… I’m just so happy right now.”
I force a dreamy smile. “Has he asked you out yet?”
“No, but sometimes, when I look over, he’s watching me with this really soft look? It makes my stomach go crazy with butterflies. I’m sure we’ll be together by prom.”
“That’s amazing!”
“Right? And I even enjoy writing poems now! It’s like, you showed me this new way of expressing myself and reflecting on my thoughts and feelings and I don’t think I’m ever going to stop, even if it doesn’t work out in the long run with Drew and I.”
Putting back her hair, she considers me. “We should become pen pals once you move away? Like, you know, send each other poems and little updates every now and again. I think I would really like to know what’s going on in your life once you get out of this tiny place in the middle of nowhere.”
A low laugh escapes me. “I doubt it’s gonna hold up to your expectations.”
Thoughtfully, she pulls her mouth to the left. “I expect that you’ll make something of yourself. Probably much more than anybody else around this place. You seem to me like a person that knows where they want to go and has both the conviction and the ability to pull it off.”
Right. I guess she’s not that wrong, then. Maybe. Hopefully. Unless something gets messed up now, I should be able to do this. I heard it gets even easier to work hard for the future you dream of once you can see yourself come together as the person you want to be.
“And you won’t make something of yourself?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. She seems competent enough. She’s extroverted enough that it’ll probably take only days before she knows everybody worth knowing around campus. If things don’t work out between her and Drew, she’ll find a new, amazing boyfriend within a week or something. She’ll rule campus like she rules this school.
She shrugs. “I don’t have a full-ride scholarship. I’m already fully realized as a person, if that makes sense? I think there’s still much more that’s going to change about you. We’ve only started seeing the surface since Drew started dragging you out of your shell.”
I shift my weight uncomfortably. Could she be talking about my transness? Would it be a problem if she was? A shiver runs down my spine and I draw my shoulders inwards. I don’t like to be seen like that, even though I know she’s probably nice.
“You know, if you wanted, you could so have a girlfriend for prom,” she says. The words are hesitant and her eyes flick away once I meet them. “I’ve heard several times over the last few weeks that people think you’re cute.”
“Yeah, but that was the boys and they were mostly joking,” I say with an awkward laugh. I know I’m pretty, of course. But I’m not the kind of pretty people look for in a guy. And to the kind of people I would have a crush on, purely theoretically, I’m still too much of a guy to love. Do I even like girls? I don’t think I’ve ever had a crush on one.
Sinéad shakes her head emphatically, laughing. “Yeah, no, it wasn’t just that. In case you haven’t noticed yet, you’re genuinely pretty. And there’s none of that male bravado about you. You don’t get overly drunk, you don’t brag all the time, you have a future. People like that, you know?”
“They do?”
“Oh for sure, I can show you later. But before that, I really think you should untie your hair.”
My eyes narrow on reflex. “Why?”
“I think it looks better that way!” She doesn’t give any further explanation, instead waiting patiently as I fiddle with the hair tie. As I shake out my hair, brushing it back into its normal position, she considers me. Read the latest chapters at g.com.
“You know,” she muses, “Mia fits you so much better than Max. It’s like… that name was made for you. I keep wanting to call you Mia.”
My heart skips a beat and my face goes hot, but in my mind there’s a hesitant sense of excitement. What if she started calling me by my name? Not just as a joke, but because the name fit me better.
“If you wanna…” I say lamely, trailing off. “It’s just a name.” Am I gonna regret this? Maybe. But it is so much harder to say no to this, now that I’ve had a taste of what it could be like to be me. It’s so much easier to exercise restraint when nobody offers to treat you as you. It’s just another four weeks, anyway.
An endearing smile blossoms on her lips. “Right, Mia. What do you say, I prove to you that you could get a date for prom if you wanted?”
She gets up and offers me her hand. It is soft around mine as she pulls me up with ease. Even to her I must seem light.
“How exactly are you going to prove that?” I ask with suspicion. She’s walking ahead of me, pulling me along gently.
Her eyes twinkle with the reflection of the lights when she turns to give me a mischievous grin. “Do you not trust me, Mia?”
“Not if you look at me like that.”
“Oh, it’ll be harmless. Some kissing might be involved, but you’ll have enough privacy.” She winks at me, which does little to settle my nerves.
Sinéad lets go of my hand, shortly before we enter the living room. The energy in the room hasn’t quieted down at all. People are still playing drinking games, a few are dancing, others are sitting on the couches, chatting and laughing.
With her usual amount of confidence, Sinéad walks right over to the speaker and presses the pause button. Immediately, everybody’s looking at her. Some people shout, not very seriously, others just give questioning looks.
“So,” she announces, speaking loud enough to make everybody shut up. “In light of prom coming ever closer, I figure it might be a good idea to help along some of the budding couples and give y’all a little… push in the right direction.”
“Oh yeah?” Theo sniggers. “Surely, there are no ulterior motives for why you would initiate something like that, eh?”
Sinéad smirks. “None at all, thank you for your concern. The game we’re playing is seven minutes in heaven and everybody who’s playing can write their name on a piece of paper. I’ll collect them in a moment.” As if on queue, Leslie appears next to her with several torn up sheets of paper and together, they start handing them out.
Everybody plays. Drew gives me a questioning look from where he’s sitting and I grin, showing him the scrap with my name on it. As Sinéad gathers the scraps, I lean in and ask, “How is this going to help show me that people crush on me? It can’t be that many people.”
She grins. “Do you seriously think I’m not going to rig this game? I’m our year’s matchmaker, after all.”
With the bowl of paper scraps, she returns to her spot at the center of the room, next to Leslie. I have no idea how she plans to rig this game, but she seems entirely confident. With a perfect expression of gleeful excitement, she puts her hand into the bowl and draws the first name.
“Max!” she announces, raising her eyebrow at me as if to say, What, did you doubt me?
My stomach is still churning with nervous anticipation when she draws the second name and halts. Her eyebrows draw together in the barest hint of a frown and she hesitates.
“Who’s the lucky guy?” somebody calls, very helpfully.
Leslie leans over and before her friend can hold the scrap of paper out of reach, she announces, “It’s Drew!”