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Part 4

Everything seemed so peaceful. It felt as if I were floating calmly amidst a vast ocean, yet something held me firmly in place, like an anchor. Nathan was my anchor. In a world filled with doubt and despair, he made me feel at peace. I floated freely, yet his firmness kept me from straying too far. There were storms on the horizon, but with Nathan I felt I could sail through them.

I had to admit, out of all of the people I knew, Nathan made me feel more at ease than any of them. Though I could talk to Tiffany about anything, she seemed a bit rambunctious with my condition. Nathan made it clear that my condition didn't define me. He told me once, he thought it brought more to my character, but it wasn't my entire character. What others found odd about me, Nathan found quirky or cute. I wasn't the best at sports, and yet he included me in them anyway.

Maybe Rajan had been right. Maybe I didn't have to be good at something to have fun. I obviously wasn't the best example of a girl or a boy, but I had fun being both. I especially had fun with Nathan, even more so now. Nathan's touch felt so soothing. His eyes seemed so caring. His warm embrace felt so loving. Everything about Nathan felt wonderful. This strange turn of events felt amazing, but at the same time terrifying. It felt surreal. It felt like… a dream?

"Hey," Nathan said, from a seemingly distant place. "Welcome back."

"What happened?" I managed to sheepishly squeak out.

"You fell asleep right around kickoff," Nathan said. "I asked if you were comfortable, but you were dead to the world."

"You mean we didn't…"

My eyes blinked open. As I adjusted to the strange surroundings, I slowly remembered I had come over to Nathan's house. The high vaulted ceiling of Nathan's living room greeted my stare. I quickly looked down my body. My jeans were still on. Everything seemed intact except my hat. Apparently Nathan, or even I, had taken it off to be more comfortable.

"We were talking a little bit," Nathan said. "Then you just checked out."

"Sorry," I said. "I guess I just had a long day."

"You didn't miss much," Nathan said. "The game was pretty boring, and the damn Redskins won."

"What was the score?" I asked, feigning interest.

"Twenty-one to sixteen," Nathan said. "Cowboys are having a crappy year. They probably won't even make the playoffs."

"Sorry they lost," I said.

"You don't need to apologize for anything," Nathan said.

"I guess I've just gotten used to it," I said.

"Used to apologizing?"

"Yes," I said. "I feel like I'm to blame for a lot of things lately."

"Like what?"

"I… I don't want to talk about it right now," I said.

Nathan's hand came down to rest on my head. I had been laying on the couch, my head inches away from his thigh. Soon I felt his fingers gently flex in and out of my hair. It felt relaxing, and I soon closed my eyes. A long moment of silence crept into the room. I didn't seem to mind, as that peaceful state returned to me. Had he been doing this as I slept? Did it really matter if he had?

"Still tired?" Nathan asked.

"Not really," I replied.

I pushed my head back until I could see Nathan's eyes. He wasn't looking at me, but rather staring blankly at the television screen. The late night news could be heard softly from across the room. My eyes felt heavy once again, as I relaxed back into my former state. His hand felt so warm and gentle. It felt like we were back in the park, the day he first had touched me in such a caring way.

"Your brother should be back here in an hour or so," Nathan said. "I'd offer you the couch, but I already gave it to him."

"It's okay," I said. "I should probably head home."

"No. You can stay," Nathan said. "I mean… it's not like I'm kicking you out."

"I guess I could sleep in the chair over there," I said.

"Well," Nathan said, standing from the couch. "If you're not tired, would you like to see the rest of the house?"

The moment his hand left me, I wanted it back. We had a strange relationship. It felt even more awkward to me now, as I thought we had taken it to the next level. I felt embarrassed to even ask him if anything had happened. Obviously it was safe to assume nothing had, but everything felt so strangely real. Surely Nathan would have said something. He didn't even act out of the ordinary.

I pushed myself up to a sitting position. My feet and lower legs swung over the front of the couch. Nathan busied himself by collecting my shoes and hat. He held them with his left hand, as he reached out with his right to help me from the couch. I stood, a bit wobbly, but close enough to smell his aftershave or deodorant. Whatever the fragrance happened to be, it smelled good.

Even standing close to Nathan felt awkward. If we had been intimate before, we had descended back to dodgy and uncomfortable in record time. I figured he would have kissed me. Maybe he was waiting for me to kiss him. It couldn't be that, as Nathan always took the lead in situations such as these. He definitely wouldn't have let an opportune moment for a kiss go to waste, if we were to kiss. It wasn't in his nature, or so I believed.

"Thank you," I said, almost a faint whisper.

Nathan flashed me a smile. "The downstairs isn't much," he said. "Just an unfinished boys' hangout and the garage is basically the other half." He let my hand slip from his. "I can show you the upstairs though."

"Sounds good."

Nathan and I looked at each other for an awkward lingering moment. I lowered my eyes with my head, a shy move, but it got Nathan to move again. He stepped away from me. Nathan led the way to the stairs, and I followed like a lost puppy. It seemed easier than anything to fit that role. I didn't mind letting others take the lead. Rajan had called it passive, and said it wasn't a bad trait to have, but I should be careful not to let people take advantage of it.

The tour of Nathan's house wasn't as extravagant as I had envisioned. He definitely would have no career in being a tour guide. However, he showed off the house as best he could, taking me through the upstairs. I saw the master bedroom and bath, along with the spare his mother had converted into an art studio. Then he showed me the loft, which his stepfather had made into a home office.

The main thing I noticed about the house, was everything seemed impeccably in order. Even his mother's art studio, with paint and spare canvases strewn across the room, had some kind of order to it. I figured his mother was one of those crazy clean-everyday neat freaks, who got mad if her house was out of order. That was my initial though, until I saw Nathan's room.

"And my room," Nathan said. "It shares the bathroom with the spare."

Nathan's room happened to be the most orderly out of all the rooms. While most of my friends had posters and pictures all over their walls, Nathan had a bulletin board and a mirror hanging up. Even the bulletin board seemed in order, with things to do posted neatly in a line down one side. His bed was even made. I don't think I knew a boy around my age who actually made his bed, especially not if their parents weren't home.

"What do you think?" Nathan asked, as he placed my shoes next to his door.

"It's…" I searched for a compliment, but there was only one word I could think of at the moment. "Neat?"

"Oh…" Nathan said as he shrugged. "Yeah. My parents are always running, so I help out a lot taking care of the house." He stepped over to his dresser, putting my hat on top of it. "I'm not crazy with it. I just avoid messing things up." He stared at me, assuming he had to explain more. "Less to clean up later. You know? That sort of thing."

I shook my head, letting out a laugh with my breath. "You don't need to explain. It's just I'm not used to everything…"

"Being in top order?" Nathan asked.

"Something like that," I said, smiling.

"Yeah, I got that from my father. Military man. Did you want something to sleep in?" Nathan asked. "Or are you comfortable in that?"

"Actually these jeans are a bit snug," I said, "and I'm dying in this sweatshirt."

Nathan flashed me a knowing smile. "You can wear whatever," he said. "Just make yourself comfortable." He pointed toward another door. "Bathroom is there, and there's an unopened toothbrush in the left drawer." He walked over close to me.

"Where are you going?"

Nathan put both of his hands on my shoulders. "I'm going to wait up and let your brother in," he said. "I'll be back though."

"I should just stay here then?" I asked, as he brushed past me.

"I figured a bed would be more comfortable than the chair downstairs," Nathan said. He turned to look back at me. "That is if you're okay with sharing?"

All I could manage to do was nod. Nathan smiled once more, and turned to head down the stairs. I had stayed over at boys' houses before, and had never felt weird about it. This felt weird. Was it because I felt like a girl at the moment? Almost as if in slow motion, I turned my head to look at the bed. They had somehow stuffed a queen sized bed in his room, and still had room for other furniture. My own room could barely handle a twin size bed and a dresser. Nathan actually had a desk for his computer.

"Well… he said to make myself comfortable," I said to myself.

The thought of knowing how to fulfill that request eluded me. What exactly could I do to make myself or this moment comfortable? If I took clothes off, the situation would be uncomfortable. If I bundled up, I'd physically be uncomfortable. I became increasingly less "okay" with this arrangement, and for some reason all my self-doubt came creeping up on me. I stood there, frozen, unable to make myself comfortable.

"Are you okay?" Nathan asked from behind me.

"I'm fine," I said, nodding to reassure myself.

"You look a little distraught," Nathan said. He watched me for a moment. "If you're not comfortable with this, I can take my parents room."

"I…" I fumbled around for something to say. "I should probably just go home."

"But you're here," Nathan said. "I'd like you to stay."

"I'm not sure about this," I said.

"I'm not going to force you to do anything," Nathan said. "I just…" He ran his hand through his hair. "I guess…" He dropped his hand to his side. "I promise you'll be safe. Please stay?"

I thought of Tiffany for a moment. Even though she said it would be okay if I wanted to be with a boy, I knew something like this would hurt her. I had to be diplomatic about this. It had to be treated like two friends sharing a bed, like a girl and a boy forced to share a one bed motel room. As that conjured up images of something else entirely, I shook my head. Nathan took it as a sign of disagreement, but I was prepared to counter this with something Tiffany would have said to me.

"If I stay," I said, "nothing happens that I don't want to happen."

"I'm totally fine with that," Nathan said. "In fact, the thought never crossed my mind."

"Really?" I asked, with a tinge of disappointment. My head tilted to the left, and for some reason I could feel my face forming into a definite pout.

"Well, I mean…" Nathan stammered. "Look. I'll be totally honest with you. I've thought about it, but I'd never ever take advantage of you like that."

"You've thought about it?"

"Well haven't you?" Nathan asked.

"I…" I glanced at the wall behind him. "I asked you first."

"But I just said I did," Nathan said. His smile invaded the corner of my eye, pulling my gaze back to him. "Have you?"

The doorbell rang at that very instant. Nathan and I stared at each other, his look an obvious one of disgust at the interruption. I bit my lower lip, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of an answer. This answer would take careful thought. If I revealed my feelings to him, he might take it the wrong way. I didn't want him thinking to pursue the thought of acting on our feelings tonight. It felt comfortable to just keep this friendly. I felt comfortable?

"That's your brother," Nathan said.

"Don't tell him I'm here," I said.

"Why?"

"I want to talk to you, alone," I said. "I don't want overprotective Justin on our case tonight."

"He'll find out eventually," Nathan said. "I can't keep it from him. It wouldn't be right."

"He can find out tomorrow," I said. "Just not tonight."

"Okay," Nathan said. "Just try to stay quiet until I come back then."

"Go let him in," I said, gesturing for him to hurry.

Nathan turned and stumbled down the stairs. I stepped back, and slid the door closed, leaving it open a crack. As I moved around his room, I studied his belongings. He had a nice collection of trophies, mostly from sports like basketball and baseball. Surprisingly there were no awards for football. Maybe he had just taken it up. His bookcase was filled with books, and only a few of them were typical boys' books. Most of them were actually thought-provoking.

There were a few pictures on his dresser, mostly family, but one in particular caught my eye. Amongst the pictures of his mother and father hugging on him in some form, there was a picture of a young girl. She appeared to be smiling on the outside only, as I could see in her eyes she had a lot of pain hidden within. Her raven black hair looked healthy, and fully framed her beautiful face.

I had to admit, I felt a little jealous seeing her. She could have been Nathan's cousin or someone else I didn't even know, but I found myself comparing myself to her. Obviously he cared enough about her to keep a picture. This beautiful girl must have meant something to him. Was she the reason he didn't see us together in the future? Did I honestly care if there would be an "us" in the future?

My brother's voice carried up from the living room. He boasted about how awesome the concert had been, and how he would do whatever to make up tonight to Nathan. Eventually both of their voices turned to mumbling, and I got tired of straining to hear it. I had plopped down on the foot of Nathan's bed. For some reason I now had the picture of this beautiful girl in my hands. Her soulful brown eyes stared back at me.

After a few minutes passed by, I heard footsteps on the staircase. I rushed over to put the picture back on the dresser. As the bedroom door eased open, I had managed to posture myself in a stance where I appeared to be casually perusing the pictures. My face felt a bit flushed, and I hoped Nathan didn't take notice. I tried to hide it a bit, by pretending to struggle getting the silver scrunchie out of my hair. Nathan closed the door, as I placed the scrunchie next to my hat on the dresser.

"Might have to keep it down for a bit," Nathan said, in a whisper, "but Justin's all settled down there."

"I was just looking at your pictures," I said, whispering as well.

"Ah," Nathan said. "Yeah. That's my big happy family. All three of us."

"Who's she?" I asked, pointing at the girl. I tried to make the question sound as relaxed as possible.

"Didn't I tell you about Jessie?" Nathan asked.

"I don't recall," I said.

"She's the girl I dated back in Pittsburgh," Nathan said. "I thought I told you about her."

"Oh," I said. "Now that you mention it…" I looked at the picture. "Wait! Pittsburgh?" I turned to face him. "I thought you were from Dallas."

"I am," Nathan said. "I lived in Dallas for about ten years, and Pittsburgh for almost two." He walked over to join me at his dresser. "My dad moved us all to Pittsburgh, but then my mom got custody in the divorce, and we moved halfway back, before she met my stepfather and we settled here." He looked at the picture. "My mom is still mad he made us leave Texas, but Jessie is mad I had to leave Pittsburgh."

"She's pretty," I said, a bit flippantly.

"She was about your age when that was taken," Nathan said. "I think you two would get along great. You have more in common with her than I do."

"I do?"

"You're both kind of the same," Nathan said. "You've got pretty much the same style, same attitude, same quirkiness." He looked at me with a smile. "You're both cute too."

I blushed and turned my face away from him. It felt like the room had suddenly gotten ten degrees hotter. I knew deep down that I liked Nathan, but I really had to show some restraint. There was entirely too much for me to sort out already. I didn't need another relationship on the table. Even if it was a dream earlier, I knew in reality what happened in the dream was wrong. As I turned back to face Nathan, I was prepared to tell him all of this.

"Hey Nathan!" Justin shouted from downstairs.

We both jumped.

"Nathan!" Justin shouted again. "You gotta see this! They're talking about the concert!"

"Why don't you find something to sleep in?" Nathan asked. "I'll go knock your brother out with something."

As soon as Nathan left the room, I practically tore the sweatshirt off. It felt like I would burn up if I kept the stupid thing on any longer, but I withstood it for appearances. I tossed it onto the chair at Nathan's desk, hoping the small mess wouldn't send him into a rage. While I opened his dresser drawers, looking for some shirt to wear, I realized what I had on felt pretty comfortable. In fact, the only uncomfortable thing now happened to be my jeans.

I hesitated, my fingers holding the corner of material around the button loop. Would it be too weird to share Nathan's bed like this? I would be sleeping in tights and a t-shirt next to a teenage boy. Knowing his fondness for anything remotely related to hosiery, especially the body parts located within, I didn't want him to get the wrong impression. Did I trust him enough to bare the jeans?

My mind had doubts, but my heart took over and was willing to trust him. I pushed myself to pull down the jeans. They slid smoothly off of the blue tights beneath. As the jeans pooled around my nylon-clad feet, I felt a bit more comfortable; at least physically. Emotionally I was feeling like a train headed toward imminent derailment. Being around Nathan had as many advantages as it did disadvantages.

The disadvantages were obvious. I liked him, possibly too much, and he liked me. Though I didn't know to what extent his feelings ran for me, it worried me that something would eventually take us to some new level. He was also a bit older, with a little more experience in the area of relationships. I even fell for the "older guys are better" mentality by listening to my female friends swoon over high school guys. So being with him had a few disadvantages, but the positives outweighed the negatives.

Nathan was by far the nicest guy I knew. Justin had his moments, but I noticed most of them were around Nathan. Jason, Tom, and every other guy I knew, happened to be jerks most of the time. I couldn't talk to them either. They didn't understand me. It worried me sometimes that Nathan understood me far too well, but I figured it came with his personality. As I thought about my relationship with Nathan, I somehow ended up sitting on the foot of his bed.

"Your brother is wired," Nathan said quietly, as he quickly opened and closed the door. "I finally convinced him that I had to get some sleep."

"Could I ask you a question?"

"Can it wait a few minutes?" Nathan asked, stepping over to the bathroom door. "I'd like to brush my teeth."

"I guess I'll join you," I said, rising to my feet.

I followed him into the bathroom, where he greeted me with my own toothbrush. I'm sure most girls would get all sentimental about such a thing, but I wasn't old enough to understand the significance. I knew from watching shows and movies it was some big step in a relationship. Then again, Nathan and I weren't in a relationship. We played a childish game of glancing at one another while the other wasn't looking in the mirror.

Eventually we finished what we had set out to do, and Nathan allowed me to have the bathroom to myself for a moment. After relieving myself and freshening up, I returned to the bedroom to see Nathan sitting on the nearest side. He looked me over, perhaps a little too deliberately. From my vantage point, he appeared to be capturing the image and locking it in his mind somewhere. I stood hesitantly at the door. The only light in the room came from the lamp next to his bed.

"You look so cute," Nathan said. "Are you comfortable?"

I nodded.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

I bit my lower lip. "I'm a little nervous," I said. "No… I'm terrified."

"Nothing is going to happen," Nathan said. "You're perfectly safe here with me."

"I believe you," I said. "Yet I still can't get myself to move."

"Well…" Nathan stood, and walked over to me. "I'll just have to carry you."

Before I could muster a protest, or retreat away from him, Nathan had me in his arms. I squirmed out of sheer nervousness, but honestly didn't put up that much of a fight. He carried me over to his bed, and gently lowered me down onto it. For a moment he left me, walking over to retrieve a book from his bookcase. On the way back, he stopped at his dresser to pull out a rather large, yet comfortable looking long-sleeve shirt.

"It gets kind of cold up here," he said, sitting next to me on the bed. He handed me the shirt. "You might change your mind."

Nathan pushed some pillows up against his headboard. Then he propped himself up against them, and set the book in his lap. This didn't feel comfortable at all. He looked down at me, as I lie there with my head on the pillow next to him. No, nothing about this felt right. I sat up abruptly, causing Nathan to retract. For a moment I thought about leaping from the bed, but instead I turned and faced him; sitting Indian style next to him.

"I'm serious," Nathan said. "You don't have to worry about anything."

"I do though," I said. "Not necessarily about what might happen, but I don't know…" I looked down at the bed. "It just doesn't feel…" I looked up at Nathan. "This is totally new for me."

Nathan reached out and took my left hand with his right. "Which is why I'm not pushing you to do anything," he said. "I don't care if you sit here and stare at me all night. I'll sleep in the chair over there, or on the floor. I don't care about any of that. I just want you to feel safe and comfortable." He let go of my hand. "In fact, I wouldn't want us to do anything to ruin tonight. I don't even want you to think about how to act or any of that."

"But I do!" I said. "I think about it all of the time. I can't not think about it." I put my hands on his leg, which was probably a dumb move on my part. "Don't you think about it? I mean… don't you want to kiss me, or something right now?"

"Maybe I do," Nathan said. "Maybe I don't. Either way, I'm not asking to, and I don't want you to feel pressured into it. If it will ease your mind, I'll just say I don't want to kiss you."

"What?" I asked, retracting myself. "Because you don't like me?"

"Because I like you too much," Nathan said. He reached for my hand again and found it. "I respect what we have." He sighed. "You're young, and maybe a little inexperienced, and to be honest, you have a lot to figure out. The last thing you need is for some guy to be forcing another relationship, when you're juggling one already with everything else going on in your life."

Could he read minds? He basically said what I had been thinking. "So you do like me?" I asked, my eyes showing I was scared to ask the question.

"Of course!" Nathan said. "I just want you to relax. Be yourself around me."

"Be myself?"

"Act girly, tomboyish, funny, serious, goofy," Nathan said. "Whatever you are at the moment. I don't even care if you slip into being a boy around me. In fact, I've never really seen that, so it may be shocking. I just want you to be you."

Nathan let his hand slip from mine, and I felt stranded. It felt like he left me alone in the middle of an island to sort myself out. He'd gone from my anchor to marooning me. I knew once I sorted it out, I could come back to him, like a lifeboat waited for me on the shore. The only problem was, I didn't know where to begin on my own. There had always been people there to push me one way or the other. Ultimately I knew I took the choice to go either way, but I never felt this far from inspiration.

I could tell Nathan was in this for the long haul. He nonchalantly opened his book and started reading quietly to himself. Any second I thought he would give up on the book and come back to me. Sadly he did not. He was right about one thing though. It started to get a bit chilly in the room, and I ended up slipping on his oversized shirt. The softness and warmness enveloped me like a friendly hug.

I continued to sit and watch Nathan. Surely he would get tired of me staring at him. As each minute passed by, I realized I had focused more on trying to distract him, than actually reflecting on myself. Nathan had actually done me a huge favor, and I hadn't even noticed. He had given me a moment of solitude, a brief moment in the scheme of life, but an honest, undisturbed moment to discover something about myself.

My family gave me time alone at home, but usually for homework. Time with Rajan was like answering essay questions on a quiz. When I discussed my issues with Tom and my mother, they had more questions than I did. Usually they asked me if they thought my treatment was working. Not even Tiffany suggested I sit and think about the problems in my life. She wanted to distract me from them. Nathan had been the first to make me think, and had even awarded me time to do so.

"I'm Bailey," I mumbled to myself.

"Huh?" Nathan asked, looking up from his book.

"You said for me to be myself," I said. "I…" I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know what that is."

"It's not what," Nathan said. "It's who." He set the book down in his lap. "I don't think you know who you are, or at least haven't grasped the potential of who you could be."

"I'm twelve," I said. "I can't grasp algebra. How can I even begin to grasp this?"

"That's what I'm saying," Nathan said. "You're way too young for this. You should be having fun, being a kid." He tilted his head to the right as he looked at me. "In two years you're going to have enough to worry about. You're going to start down the path of shaping your future."

"I know all of that," I said.

"I'm sure you do," Nathan said. "Look… I'm not your typical jock." He gestured to the bookcase. "I've read every single one of those books at least twice. And I'm not saying that to brag about it. I'm saying most athletes make their sports their priority. I don't."

"You've read all of those?" I asked, pointing at the bookcase.

Nathan nodded.

"Twice?"

"At least twice," Nathan said. "Some I've read more."

"So why are you telling me this?" I asked.

"Because I think you could do that too," Nathan said.

"Read books?"

"Well you could read books," Nathan said, "but no. I mean I think you're smart enough to figure out what it is you want out of life. I think with some careful consideration, you could figure out who you are, and who you want to be."

"You really do want my little brain to explode don't you?"

Nathan laughed, a bit loud by our hushed standards. "You could do it if you really wanted to," Nathan said, collecting himself. "It's just like you said though. You're twelve, and shouldn't be trying to figure this all out right now." He paused for a moment. "And I think I would miss your brain the most."

"Why did you ask me to stay tonight?"

"For this," Nathan said.

"This?"

"Talking," Nathan said. "Seeing you come alive, and not because you're surrounded by a bunch of friends. I wanted to see Bailey alone. See her come out with no persuasion."

"Now I feel like I'm here to entertain," I said.

"You're fine," Nathan said.

"Even with the awkwardness?"

"I'm awkward. You're awkward," Nathan said. "Life is awkward."

"Sometimes painfully," I said. "I was scared to death coming over here tonight."

"Because you had to watch football?" Nathan asked with a smile.

"No," I said, smiling back. "Because I'm not one of the guys." I looked down at my tights. "Obviously…"

"I'd take you over 'the guys' any day," Nathan said. "Even if you do fall asleep while we're talking."

I looked up at him, half-smiling. "Sorry about that. I get drowsy after a shot."

"Shot?" Nathan asked. "You've been drinking missy?"

"No," I said laughing. "You know? My treatments?"

"What treatments?" Nathan asked, showing a bit of concern.

"Oh," I said. "I figured Justin would've told you by now. I've been getting testosterone shots from a specialist, Doctor Dinesh. I call him Rajan." I sighed. "But I think we're going to end them soon, because they're not working anyway."

"So you want to be a boy?" Nathan asked. "How come you never told me?"

"I'm not sure about it at all anymore," I said. "Justin never mentioned it though?"

"Nah," Nathan said. "Justin and I don't really get into personal stuff like that."

"I figured half the town knew by now," I said. "I'm afraid this is all going to get out somehow."

"Does that scare you?" Nathan asked.

"Part of me," I said. "The other part would kill to have it out there in the open. Then I could just deal with things as they come, but still live my life."

"I have a question," Nathan said. "You said earlier tonight that you feel like you're to blame for a lot of things. What did you mean by that?" He paused. "I mean, if you want to tell me. If not, that's fine."

"Oh…" I glanced around Nathan's room. "I just think there are more problems at home." I stared at my fingers, the blue polish shining in the light as I moved them. "Tom is in this weird mode where he's trying to change for me. It's kind of creeping me out, but I know he's doing it because of my condition." I put my hands on my thighs. "Plus he's got this weird secretive vibe going. Like he's got some hidden past, or something."

"It's just Tom?" Nathan asked.

"I wish," I said.

I collapsed next to him, my head falling on the soft pillow. As I curled up next to Nathan, I hoped he would go back to caressing my hair with his hand. He didn't. In fact, he didn't even touch me, or let on that he was going to. I could feel his warm body so close to me, but I wanted it closer. Maybe he was waiting for me to make a move. For some reason I even tested the water, letting my nylon-clad knee rest against his leg. He didn't even flinch, or show interest.

"Justin and Tom are fighting more," I said. "I feel like I've pushed them apart, because Tom has put all of his attention into 'curing' me." I sighed. " Justin kind of got pushed to the side."

"I've noticed a lot of resentment lately from Justin," Nathan said. "I don't think you're to blame for that though. I think Justin is starting to dislike Tom's control."

"It doesn't change how I feel though," I said. "Even my mom and I are at odds. I'd like to spend more time with her, but she's working more and more at her new job." I looked down the bed between us, and very deliberately shifted my leg to rub against his. "She's talking about them sending her away on marketing campaigns now."

"That would be good for her career," Nathan said. "Not so good for you though, unless you need space."

"I don't know what I need, but Tom hates her being away so much," I said. "He also hates that I don't have any male friends, but I can't help that. I just don't have that much in common with them anymore. Plus I'm scared they'll find out about me somehow."

"Well you can't be scared about that all of your life," Nathan said. "I imagine it'll be rough, but you have to be the person you feel you are, even if your friends disagree with it."

"That's easy for you to say."

"True," Nathan said. "But I for one would support you no matter what."

"I'm afraid my parents are spending too much on this all too," I said. "I heard them talking about it all one night."

"Insurance covers a lot of it," Nathan said.

"Do you have an answer for everything?" I asked, presenting some exasperation in my voice.

"No," Nathan said, "and I'll be the first to admit it. I just don't think you should blame yourself for everything. You have enough to worry about."

"Your girlfriend was lucky to have you," I said. "The one in Pittsburgh."

"I think I was all she had," Nathan said.

"Really?" I asked, looking up at him.

Nathan nodded. "She had an abusive father. He drank a lot, called her and her mother a whore in public, and would beat them around if they talked back to him."

"That's horrible," I said.

"Yeah," Nathan said. "Well the 'whore' thing stuck, and she had problems keeping friends around. Her dad would come up with disgusting stories about her around schoolmates."

"So she didn't have friends?" I asked.

"One," Nathan said, pointing at himself. "That's why it broke her heart when I moved away."

"That's so sad," I said, frowning now at Jessie's story.

"She's a nice girl too," Nathan said. "Far from what her dad said about her."

"What was she like?"

"Well you saw what she looks like," Nathan said.

"She's pretty," I said, this time with more sincerity. "Could even be a model."

"She's got the height for it," Nathan said, "but I don't think she'd do it, based on her past."

"Low self-esteem?" I asked.

"Not exactly," Nathan said. "I mean, unfortunately she did have that, but well…" He put his hand on my shoulder. "When I said you two had a lot in common, I meant genetically."

"What?" I said, a bit too loudly, as I shot up onto my knees next to him. "You mean… she was a he?"

"Technically," Nathan said. "Her condition was slightly different than yours."

"How so?"

"You want details?" Nathan asked, a bit hesitant.

"I'm curious," I said. "You don't have to tell me though."

"I'm not sure how much you want to hear," Nathan said.

"I've had sex ed.," I said "I can handle it."

"Hmmm." Nathan observed me for a moment, as if measuring my maturity level on the subject. He finally took a deep breath, and looked me in the eyes. "Jessie was born with underdeveloped genitalia," he said.

I nodded sincerely. "What did it look like?" I asked, quickly putting my hand to my mouth. "That's not a bad question is it?"

Nathan turned his body toward me a bit. "She was born without testicles," he said, "and her penis didn't grow much at all. It was still functional, but only about an inch or so long." He paused, seemingly reluctant to tell me the last part of it. "I still remember her smile when I told her how cute I thought it was."

My mouth stood open, more out of curiosity than shock. Though I had read definitions of various conditions in Rajan's office, I could never really put an image to it. This poor girl had been born with one of those conditions, and now I could put it with her face. Technically, as Nathan had said, Jessie was a he. So that beautiful face belonged to a boy, and he looked stunning. I started to wonder if I could ever look that good. Then I remembered Nathan had just said a penis looked cute.

"She showed it to you?" I asked.

Nathan looked a little embarrassed at where the topic was going. I realized this had to be one of the most uncomfortable things to talk about with him, but I couldn't shake it from my mind now. Being born that way sounded horrible to me, but in some weird way it infatuated me. Maybe it was because Jessie looked so beautiful, or because of Nathan's caution in explaining it all, but I actually found the topic appealing. Perhaps in some weird way, I wanted to know if Nathan was into "girls" like me.

"She did," Nathan said. "I don't know if we should be --"

"You said it was functional," I said. "Did you… well… you know?"

"I think we should get some sleep," Nathan said.

"Aw," I said. "I'd really like to know."

"I don't really feel comfortable talking about it," Nathan said. "It really wasn't all that long ago." He sighed. "It's still kind of painful right now."

"Oh," I said. "I understand." I put my hand on his thigh. "Sorry I brought it up."

"It's okay," Nathan said. "I probably would've told you eventually." He placed his hand on mine. "I just see you going through some of the same things she went through. I thought maybe I could help you through it all."

"You've helped a lot," I said.

"You know you can come here any time," Nathan said. "We can hang out and talk, or whatever."

"I'd like that," I said.

Most of our conversation came in short bursts after that. It had gotten pretty late, and I soon found myself snuggled next to Nathan. Although it wasn't exactly the most romantic thing, I managed to work up enough courage to lay my head on his chest. He seemed uncomfortable at first, but then he started to read to me. Every so often we would interject a little bit of conversation, but eventually, between the poems from Byron and Keats, and the waning hours of the morning, I drifted off to sleep.

I awoke the next morning cuddled up in Nathan's arms. All night he had been like this protective barrier around me. He felt warm beneath me, as his chest rose and fell. Somehow he had managed to get the sheets around us. They were in reverse order, like he had pulled them off of the bed and wrapped us in them. The bedspread felt slick against my nylon-clad legs, as I stirred and tried to slip them out from under.

Nathan came to, at about the same time I freed myself from the covers. I felt a little guilty at having woken him, but I had a more pressing matter to attend to. Just like I felt disoriented about my surroundings for a moment, Nathan seemed to take a moment to realize why I was climbing over him. He finally assisted me, and I made it off of the bed on his side. I rushed to the bathroom and got seated on the stool not a moment too soon.

Nathan was gone from the room by the time I came out of the bathroom. I wandered around the room aimlessly, wondering if I should gather my things now, or wait. After a few minutes, that seemed like hours of debate in my head, I left the room with what I had on. I could hear my brother and Nathan talking downstairs, so I headed in the direction of the voices. The uncarpeted wooden stairs woke up what little of me was left asleep.

"No, I'm not mad," Justin said. "You could've told me though."

"I should've told you," Nathan said.

"Told you what?" I asked, stepping off of the last stair.

"About you staying here last night," Justin said, while trying to impede a yawn. He looked me over, probably to determine if anything about me seemed out of place. "Is that what you slept in?"

"Yes, I slept in this," I said. "That's all I did."

"Well I wouldn't be going around bragging about it," Justin said. "People might get the wrong impression."

"What does that mean?" I asked, becoming a bit defensive.

"He means people will tend to think the worst in this situation," Nathan said. "Even though nothing happened, people get suspicions."

"Especially nosey neighbors," Justin said. "They see a girl leaving a boy's house in the morning…" He paused. "Never mind. Why don't you just get dressed? I gotta get you home and get ready for school."

"But nothing happened…" I said.

"I know," Justin said. He let out another loud yawn.

"He knows that," Nathan said. "It's probably best to leave with him though." He sighed. "Don't need your parents wondering why you didn't come home together."

"Tom would never let that one go," Justin said, as I turned back up the stairs.

Back in Nathan's room, I took one more look around. Last night was definitely different. If anything, I learned I could be safe at Nathan's house. Even though nothing had happened between us, it felt like we connected somehow on another level. I slipped my jeans on over my tights, and stumbled around while pulling my shoes on. After exchanging Nathan's shirt for my sweatshirt, I laid his shirt neatly on the bed. Then I stepped over to the dresser to retrieve my hat.

I decided to forgo the scrunchie, and shoved it into the large pocket of my sweatshirt. I also didn't reapply my lipstick. Something told me it would be inappropriate to walk home looking anything like a girl. People might get "the wrong impression," as Justin put it. I knew exactly what he meant by it, but part of me tried to deny it. To me, last night seemed perfect. It seemed like I had taken a major step toward something, but I didn't know what. I just knew that it felt like an accomplishment of sorts.

I slapped my hat on my head, and pulled the hood up for good measure. Then I gave Nathan's room one last glance, as if to save a picture of it in my mind. While his offer to come there any time seemed like friendly banter, I knew he meant it. He was just that type of guy. I pushed myself to exit his room, and carried myself down the stairs to meet the day. How I was going to get last night out of my head was beyond me, but somehow I had to try.

"Ready?" Justin asked, as I came into the living room.

I nodded. Nathan pulled the front door open, and Justin stepped outside. As I approached the door, I felt a sharp tug at my right arm. I turned to look at Nathan, and he gave me a caring smile. Then he opened his arms, and I fell into them. His hug felt almost as warm as the rising sun. I slipped my arms around his waist, and he gave me a gentle squeeze. Before I left his house, he held me back and looked right into my eyes.

"Remember," Nathan said. "Any time, and I mean that."

There were times in my life when people said something, but I really didn't know at the time why they said it. I don't think it was for lack of intelligence, but rather lack of experience. My mother always told Justin and I there was a difference between ignorance and idiocy. I never got that until years later. She never explained it to me. I had always assumed it was just one of those things parents say because their parents said it to them.

That morning I didn't understand what Nathan was really getting at when he told me I could go to his place. In true blissful ignorance, I thanked him, shoved my hands in the giant pocket of my sweatshirt, and followed my brother home. Maybe I would get it later, when the right time came. I couldn't even keep my mind focused on one thing. Between getting home, last night, and the school day ahead, my mind darted from place to place like the squirrels running across the grass that morning.

When Justin and I rounded the corner, we saw Tom's truck was gone. Apparently he had gotten an early start to the day. Our mother's car still sat in the driveway. She liked to see us off to school when she could. It happened to be a small bit of the time we actually got to see her. At least with it just being her, there would be little chance of odd questions aimed at incriminating us. Justin probably felt relieved at not having to deal with Tom that morning.

"Man," Justin said. "I don't even have time for a shower."

"So take one after gym," I said.

"That's not until second hour," Justin said, "and contrary to what you may think, a lot of guys in high school don't shower after gym." He held his shirt up to his nose. "I smell like a bar."

"How would you know what a bar smells like?"

"Okay…" Justin said. "I guess you got me there. It doesn't take much to imagine though."

"True," I said. "Did you have fun though?"

"Oh, I had a blast," Justin said. "I know you're not a big rock fan, but all of those bands last night were kick ass."

"I don't mind rock," I said. "It's just loud stuff gives me headaches."

"I know. I know," Justin said. "It was outdoors though. It probably wouldn't have bugged you as much." He looked down at me. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Did you have fun?" Justin asked.

"I guess so," I said. "It was kind of cool to hang out with someone in high school."

"You do that all the time," Justin said.

"Well… yes and no," I said. "I mean, my friends' sisters are in high school, but they take off on us all the time."

"Ah," Justin said. "So they pretend they're too cool for you guys?"

"Most of the time," I said.

"Well Nathan liked hanging with you," Justin said.

"Really?!"

"Yeah," Justin said. "He thinks you're pretty cool."

"That's what he said?"

"Well," Justin said. "He said 'interesting and unique', but basically, yeah."

"Interesting and unique…" I muttered to myself. My eyes shot up to look at my brother. "Did he say anything else?"

"Wow," Justin said. "You're just like a…" He glanced around, and then lowered his voice. "You're just like a girl. Asking what a guy said about you." He chuckled. "You don't have a thing for him, do you?"

"Me?" I choked on the morning air. "I… no. I mean I like him and all… I don't have…" I gave Justin a stern look. "It's not like I'm in love, or anything."

"Just thought I'd ask," Justin said, giving me a concerned look. "No need to get all defensive."

"Why?" I asked. "Did he say something?"

"No," Justin said, but recoiled when he saw the answer seemed to upset to me. "He just said he enjoyed your conversation, and wouldn't mind doing it again."

"Oh," I said. "Well I wouldn't mind that either."

"What did you guys talk about anyway?" Justin asked.

"Oh," I said. "Just about ourselves. Learned a bit about his past. That sort of thing."

"You're not going to tell me are you?"

"Not a chance," I said, with a grin.

Justin shook his head. "Got a key on you?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, reaching into my pocket.

Justin let me go up the steps first. I reached the door, and started fiddling with the key in the lock. Tom had put new locks in a few months back, and they never were right. The deadbolt stuck, and the key didn't like to go into the slot in the knob. I had to give Tom credit though. He was pretty handy with a lot of the things around the house. It just seemed he lacked the ability to get one of those things perfect.

Our mother wasn't even awake when we came in the house. I figured she must be sleeping in, so I took care not to wake her. After kicking off my shoes, and losing the hat, I made myself comfortable in my room. As I sat in my room that morning, I wrote feverishly about the night I had shared with Nathan. At one point I thought my pen would set fire to my diary. Everything I had felt, and even the dream I had, fell onto the blank pages like autumn leaves falling from a tree.

It all felt magical and wonderful. Word after word landed on the pages of that little white book. I lost all sense of time. Alarm struck when I looked up at my clock. While I was lost in my own little world, I had only left myself with ten minutes to get ready before the bus came. The diary flew from my hands, landing in the middle of my bed. My mind started contemplating all that I had to do.

I didn't have time for a shower, but I had one the night before, so I would probably be okay there. My clothes. I definitely had to change my clothes. It would be a little odd wearing what I had on to school. From my bed I leapt, yanking my sweatshirt off in the process. I stumbled out of my jeans, pulling the tights with them as I clumsily made my way to my dresser.

After pulling out a pair of ankle socks, and a fresh pair of plain white bikini briefs, I tossed them on the bed, and headed for my closet. The tight t-shirt I had on was a pain to get off. I struggled with it, finally pulling the thing off, along with my bra, over my head. Frantically I dug through my closet, pulling out a pair of my everyday jeans and a steel blue long-sleeved shirt. I tossed them onto the bed with the rest of my outfit.

It took me awhile to stumble into my fresh clothes, a lot longer than it took to take the others off. When all was said and done, I had about a minute to decide something very important. I could either brush my teeth, put on deodorant, and fix my hair, or I could take my nail polish off. In a moment of panic, I hurried into the bathroom to do all but the latter. I came back to my room with enough time to slip on my sneakers and grab my school bag before heading down the stairs.

The bus was late. I stood waiting for it, my hands shoved into the pockets of my jeans. Just as I was about to retreat back into the house, I saw a flash of yellow turn up my street. The bus was coming. I had serious doubts about going to school like this, but I knew if I missed the bus, my mother would be on my case. She had said before not to let my dressing interfere with school. I took this to mean that she didn't want to be driving me to school because I forgot to take some nail polish off and missed the bus.

Slowly the bus crept toward my house. I already had an empty pit in my stomach. Of course I hadn't had breakfast, but I didn't feel all that hungry. Loss of appetite was something Rajan mentioned, but I didn't think I was losing my appetite. It was nerves. I wanted to turn and run for the house. How could I even think about going to school with painted fingernails? It would be okay. I could tell people that Tiffany painted them. That had to work!

School didn't go much better than my morning. The questioning stares started about the time I got halfway down the aisle of the bus, and they didn't end anytime soon. I felt myself rushing to everything, from getting on the bus that morning to getting to class on time. For some reason I left my science book in my locker, and had to share with Tracy. She even had some questionable looks of her own when she saw my nails painted. The day got worse after third period, as news got around pretty quickly in junior high.

My tear-filled eyes locked in a stare with myself in the mirror. In the boy's restroom I found sanctity for the moment. What had been a stupid and rushed decision this morning, had turned into a nightmare for me this afternoon. How could people really be that intolerant of blue nail polish? The emo and goth boys had their nails painted black all of the time. Yet somehow true blue warranted ridicule from peers.

I didn't even see who had done it. The act had been so quick, and the shameless perpetrators didn't hang around to gloat about it. I lifted a wet paper towel to my forehead. The gash was small, but still bleeding. If I had learned one thing from this, it was not to stop your fall into a locker with your head. My left hand continued to apply pressure to my forehead, as my right hand held firmly to the side of the sink.

"Damn B! What happened to you?"

The all too familiar voice of Jason Coleman filled the otherwise empty restroom. I started to wonder if he actually planned on meeting me in here. This could easily be considered our "meeting place" if one were to view it as such. I thought it odd that he showed up at that time, after the event which had just occurred. It wasn't his voice though that called me a fag, and he definitely would be one to take credit for such an act.

"What do you want Jason?"

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Jason asked.

"I didn't know I was," I said, pulling the paper towel down to check the cut.

"Sure seems like it," Jason said. "Look… I'm not mad about Friday." He stepped over closer to me. "I actually did alright flying solo with Tracy."

"I'm glad to hear that," I said, looking at him from the corners of my eyes. "Sorry I couldn't be there to witness it."

"I know you were there," Jason said, leaning against the wall to face me. "I'm not an idiot."

"I…" I glanced at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jason folded his arms across his chest. "Look…" He glanced at the door, and then turned his focus back to me. "I saw you. Okay?" He took a long breath. "It's why I didn't come over with Tracy. I didn't wanna make you anymore uncomfortable than you already were."

"I wasn't there," I said. "Okay?"

"It's fine," Jason said. "I understand if you wanna keep it a secret. Out of respect for you, and because I like Tracy, I won't say nothing about it. After all, you are the one who got us together." He reached down and lifted up the hand I had on the sink. "You're crazy for bringing it to school though."

I yanked my hand from him. "It's not like that," I said. "I wanted to take it off, but I was going to be late for school."

"Well the real question is why you had it on in the first place," Jason said. "And your story isn't holding water with anyone, because Tiffany said she wasn't with you last night." He put his hand back up under his other arm. "You two need to collaborate a little better if you're going to pull off the old 'my girlfriend did it' story."

"Why do you care about this anyway?" I asked, venting a bit of my frustration onto him.

"Damn it B!" Jason said. "I'm trying to be a friend here." He sighed. "I know that's hard to believe with our history and all, but just trust me. Okay?"

"Why?"

"Why should you trust me?"

"No," I said. "Why do you want to be my friend?"

"I thought…" Jason looked at the door. "You know… We both have seen a little bit of each other's…" He sighed again, and looked back at me. "I'm not good with this shit."

"You like me now?" I asked.

"Sure," Jason said, confirming it with a nod. "Plus we both have a mutual friend. I thought maybe we should try to get along now."

I felt a bit torn at the moment. Since day one, Jason had been tormenting me about being a bit on the girlish side. He had pushed me around, belittled me, and made me look like an idiot in front of other students. Now he wanted us to be friends. It appeared that he was trying to make an honest effort. He did take the first step, and he seemed capable of keeping my biggest secret from other people, even if I couldn't at the moment.

"Okay," I said, with a sigh. "Friends."

I extended my hand, blue fingernails and all, toward Jason. He reached out for it. His handshake felt firm, yet gentler at the same time. I hoped he wouldn't start treating me like I was breakable. That sort of thing would get on my nerves if he did it all the time. We finished the handshake, and he put his arm around my shoulders. I felt myself being pulled away from the sink, and toward the exit.

"We better have the nurse look at that," he said.

Walking out of the restroom with another guy's arm around my shoulder, didn't help my standing in the social department. Girls and boys alike stared at me, conjuring up who knows what in their minds. Considering the nail polish, and the fact that I had been crying a bit, they all probably thought the same as the boys who had pushed me into the locker. Though nobody approached me now. They were probably intimidated by Jason.

It felt awkward roaming the halls with Jason. He usually caused me to avoid him in the halls, but now we had this odd closeness. I honestly didn't much care for his arm around my shoulder either. However, I wasn't going to be the one to tell him to take it off. From the look in the other students' eyes, I could tell this wouldn't go away after today. Sadly, I realized I would probably be seen as the school queer. I'm sure Tom would be proud.

"My goodness! What happened to you?"

My eyes lifted upward to focus on the school nurse. She was around my mother's age, middle forties, and had thinning blonde hair kept up in an ever-growing unpopular teased look; a lost remnant of the eighties. With an inviting and most times caring face, and her short frame carrying a few extra pounds, she had an almost mother-like quality to her. We all called her Sylvia, because she looked like Fran's mother in The Nanny, but her real name was Helen. Nurse Helen actually, if you were trying to be all technical about labels.

"I fell into a locker," I said.

"He was pushed into a locker," Jason said, looking at me with slight disappointment that I had lied.

Helen patted the ugly brown examination table. "Who pushed you?" she asked.

"I didn't see," I said, as I climbed up on the table. "They did it from behind."

"Well it doesn't look too bad," Helen said, slipping on some examination gloves. "We'll just get you cleaned up." She looked at Jason over her shoulder. "You didn't happen to see who did this, did you?"

"I didn't," Jason said, "or I would've done something about it."

"Well don't be going around telling the principal that," Helen said, winking at Jason.

"They did it because of my nails," I said.

"Well that's no reason to push someone," Helen said. "Just because they're a little different."

Nurse Helen swabbed over my cut with some peroxide. She took great care in cleaning the area, almost like my own mother would. I couldn't help but look up into her pale brown eyes. She glanced down and gave me an assuring smile. Then she reached over and got a small band-aid to put over the cut. When she got done with applying the band-aid, she reached down and took my fingers gently in her hand.

"I have some acetone if you'd like to remove that polish," Helen said.

"No," I said. "I'm going to keep it on."

"He's braver than I would be," Jason said.

Helen dropped my hand. "You be more careful out there dear," she said, giving me a concerned smile. She walked over to her small desk, and pulled out two small pieces of paper. "I'll write you both a note for your teachers, but straight to class with you. No dallying."

The rest of the day fell upon me like a torrential rain. Classmates continued to stare at me, while those more bold entered their jabs with a quip or two about my girlish decision. At least I didn't meet anymore lockers with my head that day. Not even lunch with the girls cheered me up. Though they did take a vested interest in my nails. Tiffany made sure she pointed out how awesome it was that I put myself out there, as Danielle and Tracy took intrigue in the story of how I got the cut on my head.

In all of the absurdity of the day, I did manage to make myself noticed. Granted students and teachers noticed me for all of the wrong reasons, but now my name got out there. Toward the end of the day, even eighth graders were taking interest in me. Most of the students already knew the basis of the story, but somewhere along the line it had developed interesting plot twists. It seemed each time someone asked me about my nails, they had a different outlook on the story.

I felt like the first popular outsider ever known to man. There was no pride in being known this way. As girls played games of pointing out how many feminine features they could find on me, the boys played games of guessing which guy I got prettied up for the night before. Teachers were involved as well, as they had to break up quite a few conversations to conduct class. Most girls shot me friendly smiles, as the boys shot me crude looks of lust with winking and tongue to go with them.

By the time I stepped into art class, the last hour of the day, I had found it easier to bury my head as close to the desk as possible. I hardly even noticed Tiffany had entered the room. She had even brought my art box over for me. It started getting noisier, as students clambered into their seats. All I could think about was getting this day over with. I still had a grueling bus ride home; most likely filled with more jokes and foul attention.

"Are you okay?" Tiffany asked.

"Would you be?" Tawny asked. "The whole school's been talking about him all day."

"Drop your cynicism for once, Tawny," Tiffany said.

"Cynicism…" Tawny said, dragging it out in a more questioning tone. "Is that the word of the day?"

"No," I said, lifting my head to look at Tawny. "The word of the day is: 'Oh look! Sissy Bailey has true blue fingernails! Let's make fun of him all day!'"

"That's more of a topic," Tawny said.

"Ugh," I said, as I collapsed onto the table.

"Tawny…" Tiffany said.

"What?" Tawny asked. "I'm just saying it's a topic."

"Well do you have to be so --"

"Bitchy?" Vanessa asked.

I heard her pull her chair out and sit down. Then I felt her hand around mine. I looked up to see Vanessa's caramel eyes dancing over my nails. She held my fingers up a bit to the light. To this day, I still remember her smile. It wasn't one of those smiles that said "that's so cute," or "nice color." Instead, the smile on Vanessa's face looked like she was pleased that my girlishness had come out in a more public setting.

"Well there's your problem," Vanessa said.

"What?" Tiffany asked.

"Bailey, honey, you made them too perfect," Vanessa said.

I looked at Vanessa like she had lost her mind. "Huh?"

"You said Tiffany did them," Vanessa said. "When girls paint guys nails, we do it like we don't care if it comes off in ten seconds. Yours look like you spent some time on them. You even used base and top coats. I can tell, because they're even and have a glossy shine." Vanessa handed my hand to Tawny, while Tiffany grabbed my other hand. "They look almost professional."

"Wow," Tiffany said. "I didn't notice at lunch."

Vanessa pointed at herself. "Fashion is my thing. What can I say?"

"Did you get a manicure?" Tawny asked.

I shook my head.

Tawny's eyebrows raised. "Your mom help?"

I shook my head again.

"You did these by yourself?" Tiffany asked.

"Yes," I said. "Toes too."

"You did a good job," Tiffany said. "How long did it take?"

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe thirty minutes."

"You got them looking that good in thirty minutes?" Tawny asked. "I can't even get mine to look good in three hours."

"That's because you're a dyke," Vanessa said, "and you never take care of them."

"True," Tawny said. "Except for the dyke part."

"Yeah," Tiffany said. "She's more of a lipstick lesbian." She took Tawny's hand and they blew each other kisses.

"Like you?" Vanessa asked, now smiling smugly.

"You know you're dying to try it," Tiffany said.

"Not really," Vanessa said, sitting back in her chair. "I'm dying to know why Bailey painted his own nails up last night."

"He always paints them," Tiffany said.

"I thought you did it for him," Vanessa said.

"Nah," Tiffany said. "I mean, sometimes. When we're bored we do it for each other."

"No wonder he's so damn good at it," Tawny said. "Really…" She looked at me with a reassuring smile. "Good job!"

"So what now?" I asked. They all stared at me like I'd asked the unanswerable question. "How can I just make this go away?"

"The way I see it," Tawny said, "there are two ways. One is to keep painting them, and not let the jokes get to you, which in my opinion would take a ton of courage. Two is to stop painting them, and wait for this to all wash over." She shrugged her shoulders. "Either way, it'll be awhile until people get bored with it."

"Or you can quit school," Vanessa said, jokingly.

"Ah," Tawny said. "Three ways then."

"You know all about three ways," Vanessa said.

"Whatever," Tawny said. "I swear I'm going to jump you at our next sleepover."

"Well you shouldn't have told her," Tiffany said. "Now she won't come."

"Oh, she'll come," Tawny said. "They always come."

The bell rang just as Vanessa was about to say something. Tawny squeezed my hand before she let it go. I almost forgot she was holding it, until she did that action. Tiffany still held my left hand with her right, and had been petting it with her own left hand. She gave me a smile and let my hand go. Our teacher stepped up from behind her desk, and got the class's attention.

"Now we all got your pictures from Friday traced," Ms. Fritz said, "and most of you have retraced them from the projector. Those blown up images you have now, are going to be your next assignment." She stepped out into the middle of the room. "We're going to be doing another shading exercise like you did with the still-life, but this time we're going about it a little differently. You're going to need a partner. Someone from your table. So take a moment to sort that out, and I'll tell you the rest."

"I call Bailey," Tawny said, before any of us could speak.

"What?!" Tiffany asked. "Why?"

"I dunno," Tawny said. "Just feel like something different." She turned to Tiffany. "No offense, but you two always team up."

"Yeah," Tiffany said. "Because we're sort of, you know, together?"

"It's okay," I said to Tiffany. "It might be fun for a change."

Tiffany sat back in a contrived huff. "That means I'm stuck with Vanessa," she said.

"Such love," Vanessa said, shaking her head, but sporting a smile.

"Thought you didn't wanna be loved by a girl," Tawny said mockingly.

"No," Vanessa said. "I know she's kidding."

"I am," Tiffany said. "And I agree. It might be fun for a change."

"Now that you all have a partner," Ms. Fritz said, taking control of the class once more, "I'll tell you what you'll be doing. I want you all to swap your pictures with your partner." She paused. "If you haven't retraced it on the projector yet, you will finish that today." She carried her thin, graceful frame back to her desk. "Now for the project, I want you to continue with what you've learned from shading, but I'm allowing you a little artistic license. I want you to fill in that outline of your partner with what you see." She put her arms across her chest. "Within reason. This isn't an opportunity to make a mockery of your partner."

"Aw," Vanessa said lightly, but loud enough for us to hear. "I was going to make mine a portrait of Tiffany swimming in a sea of naked women."

Tiffany gave Vanessa a constrained look of disgust, yet a hint of holding back laughter. I had expected a defensive taunt from Tawny, but none came. When I looked at her, she had this lost look upon her face. With the index finger of her right hand, she traced the outline I had retraced onto the paper. She sat in silence, contemplating what she could do with each line she saw before her.

"Now this project will be due before Thanksgiving break," Ms. Fritz said. "You'll be graded mostly on the shading technique, and how you incorporate the different styles into your work." She sat down at her desk. "Go ahead and get started. Remember, my definition of artistic license is not license to do something comical or inappropriate. You can come to my desk if you have any questions."

I sat and watched Tawny for most of the class time. While she busied herself with laying out the basic shading patterns from my original picture, I studied her. Vanessa's comments about Tawny in the previous weeks had been a bit cruel. I know that we all joked around a lot, but some part of me felt Vanessa saw Tawny as some horrible lesbian beast. This sentiment was far from reality, and probably only based in Vanessa's slight homophobia.

Vanessa gave Tawny a harder time than Tiffany and me. I think it was mostly because she saw Tiffany and I in an almost normal boy and girl relationship. However, Tawny's relationship with Megan was a lot closer to an actual girl and girl relationship. We all saw Megan as a girl. None of us could deny it. Megan just carried herself like a girl, and couldn't slip back to being a boy if we begged her to. She didn't have it in her anymore, if she ever had it at all.

Tawny was very pretty though. She tried to play it down, by dawning apparel thrown together from the dying grunge look, remnants of the skater look, and the emerging emo look. The only problem I saw in it all, was the fact that Tawny looked pretty in just about anything. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't play down the way she looked. It poured out in any little gap she left in the system. I think that's what I liked about her most.

She knew she was pretty. That was the thing. Tawny knew deep down she had the look to land herself among the pretty and popular group. I always thought she had sacrificed that to be closer to Megan, when in fact, she did it to shed attention. Though as she shed some attention from not living up to her potential, she gained some the other way for hiding it. She gained the worst kind of attention. It was the attention I suffered through today, the attention offered only to those deemed as outcasts.

That's when it hit me. I had a chance to play up all of the strengths I saw in Tawny. She had beautiful bright green eyes, almost electric. I knew I was held to the constraints of black and white, but I could try to play her eyes up with shading. Her lips were perfect. I actually found them more kissable than Tiffany's lips, but I would never tell her that. Tawny's black hair made her look exotic. The way her medium length, layered bob framed her face was amazing.

Tawny stopped for a moment and glanced up at me. "Like what you see?" she asked.

"I…" My stammer invited all three girls now to look at me. "I was just getting an idea of what to do for my picture," I covered.

"You could start by putting the pencil to the paper," Tawny said, with a smug smile. "It works for me."

Even her smugness, and raw cynicism seemed attractive. Most of the time it would be a turn off to me, but having gotten to know her, I knew she mostly did it when she felt uncomfortable. Sometimes she would do it just to mess with people. On the rarest occasions, she did it to make people feel uncomfortable so that she could feel more comfortable. I think that was one of those times. She felt uncomfortable at me looking at her, so I dropped my gaze and started on my picture.

"To answer your question though," I said. "I would have to say yes."

"Huh?" Tawny asked.

I glanced back up at her. "I like what I see," I said, with a smile.

For the first time I could remember, I got Tawny Simmons to blush. Not only that, but it was the most adorable thing I had ever seen from her. She even got flustered, and fidgeted with her hair. Her face dropped straight down, like someone had smacked the back of her head, or hit her power switch. I lowered my gaze, but I kept her in view. She sat like that for a long moment, unwilling to lift her head for anyone to see her.

I felt like I had broken into a part of Tawny not yet explored. She had a soft side. Beneath all of her layers she was nothing more than a blushing girl, flattered by the weakest of compliments. She never acted that way around other boys who complimented her. Though it was hard to recount how many actually had. Megan never made her blush, or at least I didn't think she did. Maybe Megan made her blush by other means, in private. This got my mind headed in a bad direction, and I think Tiffany read my mind, or at least saw it in my face.

Tiffany cleared her throat. Her interaction with our situation was like a hammer shattering glass. I hoped what I said didn't make her feel uncomfortable. It was basically meant to make Tawny uncomfortable, not Tiffany. Though I never really took into account the fact that my girlfriend sat right between us. She wasn't glaring at me. That was a good sign. I sat in silence the rest of the class, beginning my attempt at rendering Tawny's outline into a masterpiece. I just had to make her beauty shine forth.

---

 
 
To Be Continued...