After a lot of mumbling and awkwardness on my part, Fee had finally convinced me to get a skateboard and come back when I did. They promised me they’d show me some basics, and they’d done that and more. I’d spent so much time skateboarding with Fee these past few months, you couldn’t even tell I was a newbie.

Since then, Fee and I’d become something like friends, I guess. A first real friend, kind of, since I’d always been a bit of a loner. Fee would often drive me home, and sometimes we’d even grab a bite to eat or hang out. I hadn’t shared much with them—they knew my parents had died in a car accident and that I lived with my aunt and uncle—but I liked that we mostly talked about skateboarding or that Fee would ramble on about their own life without expecting me to reveal too much about mine. They seemed to get that I just wanted to be at the park, skating and crashing.

I went over to the picnic table now and sat beside them. Fee was huge—like, over six feet—and broad. They used to play ice hockey, until they couldn’t play anymore in the league they wanted to, since they didn’t fit the “gender requirements” or whatever. Stupid shit. They said they’d taken up ball hockey and skateboarding shortly after as a way to get out some of their excess energy.

“Hey, Hulk, you’re extra savage today. Something in particular crawl up your big green butt?” they asked, leaning into me and crossing their eyes. Fee was brown like me but had these wicked gray eyes—“Colonial vestiges, no doubt,” had been their explanation.

I leaned back. “Nah, I’m fine. I mean, besides the usual bullshit.”

“Yeah. All that bullshitty bullshit.” They contemplated me for a moment, like they were waiting for me to say something else. When I didn’t (because what else was there to say?), they tapped my knee and pointed out to the bowl. “I know I’ve said it before, but I wish you’d come play on my ball hockey team—we could use someone who dives into things like you do. Someone fearless.”