Beast(42)

“What about this Colin guy?”

Jamie leans next to the stove and grazes on her patty. “We were alone one day and I didn’t even say anything near as stupid as before, you know? No messing around like with the ‘Would you look at this piece!’ stuff. I just had a little crush on him. Nothing major. I wasn’t even rude about it. All I said was, ‘You look nice today.’ That’s it!” She shakes her head. “When he knew me as Jeff, he thought it was all a joke. This time, as me, as Jamie, when I was genuine with him, he didn’t like it. He let it be known. I thought he broke my cheekbone, he shoved me into the locker so hard.” She touches her face. The same spot she touched in the rose garden. “The two girls who broke off teamed up with him and all his crew and they made my life a living hell. My parents panicked that I’d be beat up again, or worse. Transferred schools and that’s that.”

“Fresh start.”

“Hmmm.” She chews. “These crab cakes aren’t half bad.”

“Thanks.”

I’m not thinking she looks cute in my kitchen munching away on food I made. I’m not thinking about looking up this Colin person and pummeling him into pudding. I’m not thinking about how much I’d enjoy it, mashing his stupid face into goo for what he did to her. I’m not thinking any of that—nope, I’m not.

“It’s weird, you know? I thought you were my boyfriend. My first boyfriend. All that lofty la-la stuff. The walks in the park, trips to the corn maze, holding hands, riding on a Ferris wheel and getting stuck at the top…” She sighs, and it thumps me in the ribs. “But that’s all gone.”

“Right.”

“I’m still the same girl, though, and you’re the same guy. It’s crazy.”

“What’s crazy?”

“You’re not even my type. I’m completely into skater boys.” She laughs to herself. “Never thought I’d go for…”

“A beast?” I say.

She shrugs, the grin on her face saying it all. I lean against the counter. Standing hurts. And she thinks I’m the Beast. She’s just like everyone else. Fine. Bring on the plan.

“I need to tell you something.”

“Shoot,” she says.

“Word got around in my school that you were trans, and a couple guys said bad things, so I’m going to protect you now.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m going to be your new bodyguard,” I declare, puffing up like the untouchable nightmare monster I am.

Jamie brushes crumbs from her hands and the corners of her mouth. “That’s nice, but no thank you.”

“Wait a minute.” I deflate. “I want to do right by you.”

“Uh-huh, I bet, and no thank you. I do not need your assistance.”

“These guys made a threat. I want you to call me anytime you need me. I’ll be there.”

She ogles my cast. “You’re just gonna hop on over then, huh?”

“Jamie…”

“I get it, you’re trying to be all gallant, but look.” She reaches into her bag, moves past her camera, and brings up two black canister-looking things.

“What are those?”

“One is Mace and one is a kubaton, like a little hard metal staff. Here, give me your hand.”

I stick my hand out and she lays the kubaton right below my thumb and presses down. A burst of pain makes me yelp, and I yank my thumb away, cradling it to my chest.

“I learned that in my all-girls safety class. Isn’t it cool that girls need to learn this stuff to feel safe? That was sarcasm, by the way. But that’s just one way of using the kubaton; there are loads more. Here, let me see your neck.”

“No way, you sadist.”

She puts the Mace and evil kubaton back in her bag. “Like I said, thanks for the offer but I’ll be okay.”

“What if you get jumped?”

“If I get jumped, what am I gonna do—tell the attackers to hold that thought for a minute, I need to call my bodyguard? Be serious, Dylan,” she says. “Why don’t you tell your boys to chill out. That might be more effective than you finding a white horse.”

But what if I want to save the day?

Jamie gathers up her bag and swings it over her shoulder. “Was the bodyguard thing what you wanted to say? That the reason I had to come all the way over here on a school night?”

“I…guess so.”

“Cool. Thanks for the crab cakes. I got homework now,” she says, heading for the front door.

“Do you want to stay and do homework together?”

“Nope. See you ’round, friend-o.”

The door opens with a creak and shuts with a bang.

Before Mom has a chance to fly in and get all in my face, I take my homework upstairs and lie on my bed underneath my blue ceiling. Oh, Dad, I think to the infinite nothingness beyond our roof. That did not go as well as I hoped. And then I wonder, did Dad have anything to do with that?

I wish I knew what his answer might be. It dawns on me I would give anything to have five minutes with him. Just five minutes. To see his face. Hear his voice. Ask him all the questions I ask the air because all I want is to know him.

But I can’t. And I never will. So I try to keep moving, keep dealing with stuff and things. Fill my head up, ignore the void. Forget what I’ll never have. I take out my stack of five thick books with one hand and drop them on the bed. Homework. Time to do just that.