I can see her taking everything in. It seems like she’s in most of my classes, but I haven’t been paying a lot of attention until now. She’s in homeroom, where Pete is now starting to show signs of his public transition: his hair is cut into a sharp fade, and he’s been wearing some really cool blazers with a tie. He looks good and seems so happy, but the truth is that I do miss Rhonda, even in small ways, like seeing her name on the classroom door. She’s someone else now, someone better, but not really someone I know well.

Dee is there in Science, leaning back in her chair and twiddling a pen in her fingers like a magician when Matthew answers questions like a science boss. She whispers to me in class. She only volunteers to participate when I get called on and don’t know the answer. I see her scoff when Luke, with his posse of hockey goons, imitates Matthew, sticking out his teeth and raising his hand. I look at her when the gym teacher, Mr. Cavalier, tells the guys they’re throwing like girls and calls them ladies and Nancys. She stares him down, furious. Or when kids like Carol or Mahir get racist darts thrown their way, some of them really hitting the mark, others deflected and thrown back. She never laughs at cruelty. I know she’s watching what’s been happening to me, too. It’s like she’s keeping score.

Chapter 9

9

At dinner tonight, Mom wanted to discuss Reg.

“Stevie, honey, I’d like to talk to you about something,” Mom said, while she opened the bucket of KFC she’d picked up for us. I was so happy that it was just us at home for dinner, that he wasn’t there, talking about his favorite concerts or trying to simultaneously be my best friend and my mother’s lover. Ugh.

“Uh-huh,” I said, picking up a piece of chicken in my fingers gingerly and taking a bite.

“Things with Reg are getting pretty serious,” she ventured, avoiding my eyes.

Oh. I froze. What was happening? I stared at her, the chicken hanging from my hand.

“And, well, it doesn’t make much sense for him to be paying rent at his own place since he’s here so often.”

I briefly imagined Reg’s house. He’d probably tried to decorate it like it was the green room at CBGBs where he was high-fiving celebrities and acting like God’s gift to everything, but really it was just a boring craphole.