Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda(15)

But I have to admit that there’s something kind of awesome about soccer calves and scuffed tennis shoes coming out of pleated cheerleading skirts. I can’t believe Bram Greenfeld dressed up. Bram from my lunch table. He’s this quiet black kid who’s supposed to be really smart, but I’ve never heard him speak unless he’s forced to. He leans way back into the corner of the couch, shuffling the toe of one foot against the other, and I never noticed it before, but he’s actually kind of adorable.

Mr. Wise has already started the movie when Abby charges into the room. Between cheerleading, the play, and all of her committees, there’s always a reason for Abby to be late to first period, but she never gets called out. It really pisses Leah off, especially because the people on the couch always seem to be willing to scoot over to make room for Abby.

She takes one look at the lineup on the couch and bursts out laughing. And Nick looks so ridiculously pleased with himself. The expression on his face is exactly the same as the day he found a dinosaur bone buried beneath the elementary school playground.

I mean, it turned out to be a chicken bone, but still.

“What the heck?” Abby says, sliding into the desk behind me. She’s wearing a full suit and tie and this long, Dumbledorian fake beard. “You guys didn’t dress up!”

“I’m wearing hair clips,” I point out.

“Okay, well, they’re invisible.” She turns to Leah. “And you’re in a dress?”

Leah looks at her and shrugs without explaining. Dressing extra feminine for Gender Bender is just something Leah does. It’s her way of being subversive.

So, here’s the thing. I would have left the godforsaken industrial-strength hair clips in Alice’s drawer where I found them if I thought I could get away with it. But everyone knows I participate in this kind of crap. Ironically, of course. But still. It would be weirdly conspicuous if I didn’t cross-dress at least a little bit today. It’s funny how it ends up being the straightest, preppiest, most athletic guys who go all out for Gender Bender. I guess they feel secure enough in their masculinity that they don’t care.

I actually hate when people say that. I mean, I feel secure in my masculinity, too. Being secure in your masculinity isn’t the same as being straight.

I guess the one thing that’s weird for me is dressing like a girl. What no one knows, even Blue, is that dressing up used to mean something to me. I don’t know how to explain it or reconcile it, but I haven’t forgotten the feeling of silk and air against my legs. I always knew I was a boy, and I’ve never wanted to be anything but a boy. But when I was younger, I used to wake up at night in April dreaming of Halloween. I would try my costume on a dozen times each October, and all through November, I obsessively fantasized about pulling it out of my closet one more time. But I never crossed that line.

I don’t know. There’s just something kind of mortifying to me about the intensity of those feelings. I remember them so clearly. I can’t even stomach the idea of cross-dressing now. I don’t even like to think about it too much. A lot of the time, I can’t believe that was me.

The classroom door opens, and there stands Martin Addison, framed by the bright light of the hallway. He managed to find a cheerleading uniform, and he even went to the trouble of stuffing his chest with weirdly realistic boobs. Martin’s really tall, so the amount of his skin on display is actually pretty obscene.

Someone in the back row whistles. “Looking hot, Adderall.”

“Late pass, Mr. Addison,” says Mr. Wise. And maybe it’s just Leah getting into my head, but I can’t help but think it’s unfair that Abby didn’t have to get one.

Martin stretches his arms up against the frame of the doorway like he’s hanging from monkey bars, and the top of his uniform rides up even higher. Some of the girls giggle a little bit, and Martin grins and blushes. I swear to God, that kid will whore himself out completely for a cheap laugh. But I guess he’s kind of a genius for that, because I’ve never met a nerd so beloved by the popular kids. I mean, I’m not going to lie. They kind of live to tease him. But there’s no bite to it. It’s like he’s their mascot.

“Any day, Mr. Addison,” says Mr. Wise.

He tugs his top down, pushes his boobs back into position, and walks out of the room.


On Friday, the math and science hallway is covered in hay. It’s probably three inches thick under my feet, and a few strands of it jut out stiffly from the slats of my locker. Dust seems to rise off the ground, and even the light looks different.

The theme this year is music, and out of every genre in the world, the junior class picked country. Only in Georgia. Which is why I’m wearing a bandana and a cowboy hat. School freaking spirit.

Okay. So, homecoming sucks and country music is just embarrassing, but I’m in love with the hay. Even though it means Anna and Taylor Metternich and all the other asthmatics will have to skip science and math today. It just transforms everything. The hallway looks like another universe.

When I get to lunch, I seriously almost lose my shit. It’s the freshmen. They’re adorable and ridiculous, and oh my God. I can’t stop laughing at them. Their genre is emo, and it’s basically a sea of bangs and wristbands and tears. I begged Nora last night to show up in a black wig, eyeliner, and for the love of God, at least a My Chemical Romance shirt. She basically looked at me like I had suggested she show up naked.