When Everything Is Blue(60)

“Okay, then I won’t say anything about….” She glances between us, then smiles at Chris affectionately, the same smile he got earlier when he asked for his flaky biscuits.

He nods. “Gracias, Paloma.”

“And you?” She looks at me. “Are you the gay too?”

I nod, suppressing a smile at the translation.

“Well.” She points at the biscuits. “Tienes hambre?”

“Sí, muy, muy,” Chris says, a grin breaking over his face. His Spanish, while not always grammatically correct, is adorable.

She slides them over, and we each eat our biscuits—already buttered—while Paloma finishes putting away the dishes. As we’re standing to go back upstairs, Paloma taps me on the shoulder. “Be good to him,” she says to me in Spanish.

“Prometo.”

“And change your shirt. That one’s Christiano’s. I know because I washed it yesterday.”

I glance down to discover she’s right.





The Part Where I Punk Out, Yet Again


AFTER SCHOOL the next day, I catch a ride with Ryanne to her cousin’s house. On the way there, we talk about school—classes and workload, when we’ll be taking the SAT’s, and where we’ll apply. Ryanne is in a similar situation to mine in that she has a couple of siblings, and her parents can’t afford to help much. The conversation is pretty tame, and I figure I might as well get the elephant out of the room. Even though I’m guessing Ryanne doesn’t give a shit about my sexuality, I need to state it just to, as Lt. Knox says, clear the air.

“Hey, you know about that picture, right? What’s in Wooten’s mouth?”

She glances over at me. “I heard something about it.”

“So, I’m gay.”

She nods. “Yeah, I kind of figured that already.”

“Before the picture?”

She nods again.

“Is it because of my smile?”

She gives me a funny look. “No, I figured Chris was too.”

I don’t confirm it, because I’m not going to out him, even to Ryanne. “Why would you think that?” I ask like it’s the craziest thing ever.

“Something about that day in Sebastian. The way he was when you went under. And after. Like he didn’t want to leave your side, and you were just sleeping on the beach. I know he’s your best friend, but it was something deeper.”

I marvel at that. “Isn’t it funny how you can be so close to something, you don’t even see it?”

She smiles. “Yeah.”

Then I get to thinking about Chris and how, if he’s my boyfriend, then I really don’t have any friends left. My sister’s cool but not always that easy to talk to. There’s something about Ryanne I really click with. Kismet.

“I don’t have a lot of friends,” I tell her.

“I’m your friend.”

I smile at that. It’s kind of exactly what I wanted to hear. “Cool.”

She glances at me over the tops of her sunglasses. “I don’t know if you remember, but you asked me to go with you to Plan Z.”

It’s kind of awesome she remembers that and still wants to go with me as a friend. “Yeah, I want you to. I think I’m going to enter.”

“As a contestant?”

“Yeah. I try not to think about it too much. If I do, I might punk out.”

“You nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“About the tricks or something else?”

“I don’t know, but since coming out, I feel like I have this responsibility or something. Like I’m less a person and more a figurehead. This is what a gay kid looks like eating his lunch or walking down the hallway, smiling at his teachers. Or this is how a gay kid pulls off a kickflip. It’s kind of weird. Maybe I’m a narcissist and no one really gives a shit. Just, the thought of being in front of all those people is already pretty terrifying, and if I screw up, then what if the bros are like, ‘yeah, he sucks because he’s gay’? Seems like the stakes are higher or something.”

She tilts her head thoughtfully, and I worry I’ve overshared. That was a lot to unload all at once, more than I even realized I was holding on to.

“I can see why you’d be freaked out,” she says. “But what if you’re this really talented skater, who happens to be gay and has the courage to compete against some real ballers? I mean, those punks judging you either don’t have the balls or the skills to do that.”

I nod. “That’s a good way of looking at it.”

“Haters gonna hate, Theo. If people have a problem with you being gay, fuck them. That’s their problem, not yours.”

“Punk rock,” I tell her and give her fist a bump where it rests on the steering wheel. She smiles. Ryanne has a good attitude, and she’s so laid back about everything. I should ask her advice more often. “Hey, how’s your sister?”

“She’s a mess….” Ryanne tells me how they’ve checked her into rehab—I’d heard as much—and she’s not handling it well. She doesn’t want to see them, and when she does, she’s hateful and bitter. “It’s like she doesn’t want to get better. And my parents are spending all this money. It’s really frustrating.”