“Amanda, wait!” Grant said. I barely even registered that I was hearing him until he grabbed my arm and stopped me just short of the gym’s double doors. I struggled for a moment and then turned to face him.
“It’s not true, right?” Grant said, letting go of my arm. “It’s just a prank you two came up with when y’all were stoned?”
“You promised you wouldn’t ever hate me,” I whispered, looking at his chest. Somehow that seemed to be enough of an answer for him. Muscles in his jaw jumped and twitched and I could actually hear the grinding of his teeth. “You promised you’d never regret being with me.”
“What?” Grant said, stepping forward. I stepped back and nearly stumbled, feeling sick to my stomach. Tears welled in his eyes. “You’re a boy? I remember what I fucking said, but how can you be a boy?”
“I’m not,” I said, my voice still low and soft, and for the first time I noticed the crowd behind us, listening intently. “I was…” I swallowed. “I was born a boy.” We were both quiet for a moment.
“What?” Grant said, his voice rising. “What does that mean? Do you … do you have a penis?”
“Do I?” I croaked. “I feel like you would’ve noticed.”
“I don’t know how this shit works,” Grant said, his shoulders sagging, “and you keep giving me half answers. Do you have one or not?”
“What’s it matter?” I snapped, finally meeting his gaze. Now it was his turn to back away from me. “What’s between my legs is officially not your business anymore, right?”
“Okay,” Grant said, and my heart broke when he didn’t argue. “But what’s that say about me then? Does that—” He took a breath and slowed down, saying, “Does this make me gay?”
“No,” I said quietly. “How nice for you.”
He noticed the people gathered around us for the first time and his face went pale. He started to say something else but I just shook my head. I wanted to be alone, in the quiet, perhaps on the wet grass outside so I could stare up at the autumn sky and lie down and feel nothing until eventually my body slipped into the earth and nothing became everything.
I turned to face the crowd. Some of them had their hands over their mouths, eyebrows floating high on their foreheads. They were all staring silently, my friends included. I realized I was still wearing the tiara Layla had hooked into my hair and I unwound it. Up close, it looked tacky and cheap and stupid.
“Here,” I said, tossing the tiara so that it skittered to a stop at Layla’s feet. She stooped and picked it up, looking from the crown back to me slowly. “I guess I’m disqualified.”
I turned before anyone could say anything and hurried out of the school and into the night.