And that was it. At least for now. My parents had nothing more to say to me, and I had nothing to say to them. It could have gone better, but, as bad as it was, it could have gone worse. As I went upstairs, I found myself wondering how the original versions of them would have reacted. Then I remembered that in my original world, we never would have had this conversation. Maybe I should have just told them that we used to be in an alternate universe where I was an all-American vagina-loving straight boy. They would have thought I was nuts, of course, but maybe I could have planted the idea in their heads, the way I had with Katie and Leo. But you know what? I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. It’s their job in all universes to support me whoever I am, and whatever I’m feeling, no matter who I’m feeling it for. They didn’t deserve to know there was a place where things were different.

I passed Hunter’s room on my way to mine. He was lying on his bed, looking at the ceiling.

“How many?” he asked me, when he saw me lingering by his door.

“How many what?”

“How many cows did Mom and Dad have? Because I figure if they had enough, we could open a dairy.”

That made me laugh. I didn’t think anything could make me laugh today. Leave it to new-world Hunter.

“So, are you okay with this?” I asked him.

He sat up. “Are you gonna leave?”

“No—why would I leave?”

“When Zach Tyner’s sister came out, she moved to Portland.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not moving to Portland.”

“I’d visit you if you did.”

I offered him a slim smile. “You’re a good brother, Hunter.”

He looked me over. “So, if you’re gay, how come you have such bad fashion sense?”

When your world changes in the normal way—and by normal I mean in a way that leaves you in the same universe—there’s a sort of numbness that comes over you after the initial shock. It’s a protective numbness, I think.

Unlike shifting between universes, when you’ve had a non-supernatural kind of change, such as outing yourself, everyone knows it—or at least it feels like everyone does. You find yourself acting like you’re the center of the universe, even though you’re not. You walk through hallways at school, thinking every giggle, every whisper, is about you, and each glance from people you pass is because they know about your Big Change. Your paradigm shift. And everyone who doesn’t make eye contact with you must be intentionally ignoring you.