I head out to the hall—walking as coolly as possible—and try to ignore everyone looking at me. I just put myself on the map of this school. I am the Infamous August Greene. I feel like I can do anything. Including something that I swore I would do. I head to the basement. People congratulate me and stare at me on the way—possibly in disbelief—but I keep walking. Not being rude, just determined.

I make my way across the entire basement, and without looking back, stopping, or second-guessing, I walk into the boys’ dressing room. I get a little too empowered and push the double doors so hard they slap against the wall. I cross the threshold and enter with confidence.

I do belong here.

It’s the same as the girls’ dressing room—lockers, benches, bathroom stalls, sinks, and mirrors. The only difference is the urinals—which I won’t be visiting. I laugh. Why was I so scared?

I hit the bathroom stall feeling like a king. I belong here. In this bathroom—and also this school. I’m a lead in the fall musical. I can’t wait to post about this and rack up the likes and maybe new followers. I have proven myself, and no one can take that away. Not Anna. Not Tess. No one. I smile and laugh a little, feeling giddy. I can do anything I set my mind to doing.

Right as I flush, a group of guys walk in, talking loudly. I stand there frozen. Listening.

“Congrats, man. Everyone knew you were Danny,” a guy says. That means Elijah is here.

“Thank you,” Elijah says in his John Travolta voice. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“That’s why I’m your Kenickie,” the guy says. That must be Jamaal.

“But what’s up with Rizzo?” another guy asks. I stop breathing. There’s a small silence.

“That’s my friend August,” Elijah explains.

“Why did he try out for the girl part?”

I hear someone peeing. Someone washing their hands. “I don’t know, man, he wanted to play Rizzo. He’s trans. He plays both genders.”

More silence. My fears flood the quiet. Finally, a guy says, “For real? That’s cool, I guess.”

“That’s cool, I guess” is the best response I could hope for. Maybe it will be okay. I let out a breath.

Once the guys have left and the dressing room is empty again, I leave the stall, wash my hands, and head out. Mission accomplished. Level achieved. I hit the hallway thinking about how excited Mom will be to hear the news. I’ll call her on the walk to the subway.

“You did it,” I hear from behind. I turn around and see Anna. She’s wearing a leopard-print blouse, white jeans, and red lipstick. And for the first time since the party, she’s talking to me.

“I did it,” I repeat.

“Anna—”