It started to drizzle, but Sam and I took our time. It reminded me of a song, “Laughter in the Rain.” I started to hum.

“I was thinking about that song too,” Sam said.

A lot had changed since the last time we had talked. I wanted Sam to know everything. “My dad got a new job and he’s moving here.”

“Are you happy about it?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m happy too.”

“That’s not all. My parents took me to see a counselor today.”

Sam stopped walking. Her eyes widened like a frightened deer.

“No, it wasn’t like when you talked to the youth leader at One True Way. It was good.”

Sam shook the raindrops from her hair. “Nothing could be as bad as that.”

“The counselor is supposed to help us learn to be a family again—a family that doesn’t live together. That’s what my parents said.”

“At least your parents know. I can’t talk to mine.”

“Dr. Nichols says safety first. That you shouldn’t tell if it would get you kicked out of the house, or only make your life harder.”

“They wouldn’t kick me out, but the counselor they’d take me to see would be someone who’d try to reprogram me into a different kid. That’s what scares me.” Sam stopped walking. “Allie, don’t look so serious. Watch this!”

She splashed through a puddle, just like a little kid. I laughed and followed her.

Sam turned and grabbed both my hands. “I wish you weren’t going to Pioneer Days with Webb.”

Webb. The mention of him always ruined everything. “I know, but Pioneer Days will still be fun. I can’t wait to watch you ride Penny.”

“Yeah, that will be the best part.” Sam dropped my hands and stuffed hers in her pockets. “I gotta tell you something too.”

It was bad news. I could tell by the way Sam frowned. “What is it?”

“Coach and Miss Holt are moving away after the holidays.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know exactly, but I bet it’s because of Mom and One True Way. Coach said it’s complicated. I always hate it when adults say that.”

“Me too. It’s what my parents said when they told me they were separating. Why can’t adults just tell us the real reasons?”

“They forget how to listen too,” Sam said. “My parents don’t understand me at all.”

It started to rain harder. We kept talking until we were both drenched. “I better go before we drown in the storm or Mom sends out a search party.”

“You’re right,” Sam said. “Bring Penny some carrots to the horse show.”

“I will. ’Bye, Sam.” Ribbit, ribbit.

“Ribbit, ribbit,” she answered.

During the rest of my walk home, I thought about Sam, and then Coach and Miss Holt. Why were they moving away? I needed to know the real reason.

I went early to our next newspaper staff meeting so I could talk to Miss Holt alone. It was tricky because we’d never discussed her relationship with Coach Murphy before.

I sat at a desk facing her and chewed on my pencil.

“Stop that. You’ll ruin your teeth.”

“You sound just like my mom.”

Miss Holt smiled. “Since I like your mother very much, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Are you really moving away?” I blurted out.

Miss Holt blinked a couple times. “I wasn’t expecting that question, but yes, yes we are.”

“But why? All the kids love you, and Sam really counts on Coach.”

Miss Holt blinked again, but this time she was blinking back tears. “We, Murph and I, don’t have the support of some of the parents, and it would be difficult for the administration to stand behind us.”

“Is it because …” I wasn’t sure how to put it into words without embarrassing her or crossing some forbidden line.

“We really shouldn’t discuss this any further,” Miss Holt said. “If Murph and I leave without making a fuss, we’ve been promised good recommendations. That’s the best we can hope for.”

“We’ve got to do something!” I said. “I’ll ask all the kids to write letters to the principal and the school board. I’ll—”

Miss Holt shook her head. “No, Allie. The more attention you draw to Murph and me, the less likely it is we’ll get the good recommendations we’ve been promised. And without those, getting other teaching jobs will be difficult.”

Dr. Nichols had said safety first, but I hadn’t realized it applied to adults too. “But where are you going?”

“To a city. Living under small-town scrutiny doesn’t work well for people like us.”

If it didn’t work for two adults, two twelve-year-olds didn’t stand a chance. I needed to talk to Dr. Nichols. Somehow Sam and I had to change before bad things happened to us too.

A week later, it was back to Dr. Nichols’s office. I sat facing her in the same brown leather armchair I’d sat in last time. I had thought a lot about Coach Murphy and Miss Holt. How they had to either move or lose their jobs without recommendations. “Is being gay a choice?”

Dr. Nichols answered my question with a question. “Did you choose how you feel about Sam?”

“No, it snuck up on me, but if I tried really hard, maybe I could make myself like boys.” I’d started wearing a rubber band around my arm, and every time I imagined kissing Sam, I snapped myself with it.

“I’ve treated patients who conformed to what society expected of them.”

“Do you think I should do that?”

“That’s ultimately up to you. How much happiness are you willing to give up to fit in?”

That was an even bigger question than the one I’d asked. “I’m not sure. I just want to be happy again, and I want everyone else to be happy too.”

“You are not responsible for making everyone else happy,” Dr. Nichols said. “What I’ve observed is that repressing your feelings is like putting a lid on them. If you do, you’ll never know exactly how much love you are capable of giving or receiving.”

I liked what Dr. Nichols said, but in my case she was wrong. Since Eric died and Dad left, I was responsible for making Mom happy. And to be honest, it wasn’t just about Mom. I didn’t want to suffer like Coach and Miss Holt. Being gay was too hard.