None of the Above(12)

“No problem. You doing okay?”

I peered up at him, wondering when he’d gotten so tall, and tugged self-consciously at the afghan around my shoulders. I must look like some sort of invalid. “Of course,” I said, my tone clipped. “I’m fine.”

There’s nothing wrong with me.

“Oh. Okay.” Darren shifted the weight of his lanky body as if getting ready to run away.

Instantly, I regretted my defensiveness. My mom was probably rolling over in her grave at my manners. Darren had no way of knowing why I’d been absent. I regrouped, and gestured toward the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No, thanks. I’ve got one here.” He nudged his CamelBak straw with a finger.

“Oh, okay then.” I was just about to reach for the door handle when my dad came down the stairs, carrying his laptop.

“Krissy, you should look at this website I found—”

He stopped short when he saw Darren, and the shame on his face was a second stab in the gut.

My dad snapped his laptop shut and managed a weak smile. “Darren! Haven’t seen you in a while. How’s everything?”

“Fine, Mr. Lattimer.”

“How’s the college search going? You still on the premed track?” Darren’s mom had always talked about how good he was at math and science, and wasn’t subtle about wanting him to become a doctor.

“That’s the plan,” he said.

“You looking at State at all?”

“Yeah, and Columbia. Maybe even Yale.”

“A real brainiac, huh?”

Darren gave an embarrassed shrug and scuffed his shoe against our doormat, looking as massively uncomfortable as I felt.

“How’s your mother doing?” my dad asked. “She seeing anyone these days?”

Oh my God. Could he be more awkward? According to Aunt Carla, Dad and Ms. Kowalski had broken up because Ms. K still wasn’t over her ex-husband, who had announced one day out of the blue that he was gay. Our whole town had buzzed about it for weeks; rumor was he’d fallen in love with an elementary school teacher.

“Dad,” I interjected. “Darren’s in the middle of a run. He probably needs to get going.”

“Of course. Well, good luck with colleges, Darren.”

“Sure,” Darren said. He shot me a grateful glance. “See you tomorrow, Krissy.”

I watched him lope off into the twilight before hunkering back down to my problem set. It wasn’t until much later, after I had gone to bed, that it occurred to me that my dad never did get around to showing me whatever website he’d found. But it didn’t matter, I decided.

Because it’s all a mistake.





CHAPTER 6


Sam met me at my locker Friday morning, like usual, and slung his arm across my shoulders while giving me a kiss on the forehead the way he always did. But all I could think of when he touched me was, I may have testicles.

“You never called me yesterday,” he said. “Did you get my texts?”

“Oh, yeah.” I tried to sound casual. “My phone ran out of battery and I didn’t get them until late.”

“As long as you’re cool,” said Sam.

“Yeah, I’m cool,” I said, forcing a smile.

They say that the best hurdlers learn to compartmentalize. They break down each race into its components, and when they perfect the little things, the big picture comes together naturally.

So I focused on one piece of my life at a time. When I was in the car with Faith and Vee, I made sure not to mention Homecoming, and concentrated so hard on laughing and keeping my smile planted on my face that my cheeks hurt when I got home.

When Sam came over on Saturday afternoon to “study” just like he always did, we fell into our make-out routine the way my feet slid into my worn running shoes. There were even a couple of moments when I allowed myself my usual fantasy where Sam proposed to me on graduation day. We’d go to college, of course (Sam was still waiting to hear from State), and then work for a few years before buying a house in the burbs and having kids who ran and played lacrosse and football.

I guess I’d forgotten about the part where I might not have a uterus.

The Monday of my specialist’s visit, I got through the day class by class. The urologist had scheduled me for her last appointment. I sleepwalked through bio, and felt like a robot during math. In my child development class we watched a video about shaken baby syndrome and it was so horrifying that I lost myself in that. Then there was English.

On Mondays, Ms. MacDowell always did class “seminar style.” As we moved our desks into a circle, she talked about how she always liked to teach The Merchant of Venice and Othello together because they were Shakespeare’s most problematic plays. “Today, let’s discuss how both plays unsettle assumptions and disturb the conscience with their portrayals of the Other.”

“You mean by being racist and anti-Semitic?” Natalie Goldstein asked.

“And sexist,” Jessica added. “Women in his plays are controlled by men and don’t have power unless they cross-dress.”

“Interesting. Why do you say that the play is racist and sexist,” Ms. MacDowell asked, “rather than saying that it’s a play about racism and sexism?”