When our eyes met, her smile softened around the edges, became something only ever reserved for me.

In the row in front of her, Jasper had his eyes closed and was resting his head on Seth’s shoulder, their hands intertwined while Seth flipped through a well-loved copy of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

I tried to push away the pang of jealousy that ran through me at the sight. After all, it had been my decision to keep what Noelle and I had a secret. I had been paralyzed by the fear that the nightmares I still had—though much less frequent—would become a reality once again, and keeping our relationship to myself felt safe in the same way that never flying on a plane for fear of it crashing did—I was aware that I was missing out, but the looming dread of the unpredictable persisted.

In my mind, my feelings for Noelle were like spring water, pure and healing, gentle but insistent in the way they kept rushing onward. As long as no one knew about them, they couldn’t be poisoned, couldn’t be turned into a weapon that destroyed the confidence and the self-acceptance I had spent the last months painstakingly piecing back together, one tiny fragment at a time.

It seemed stupid now to be afraid to hold her hand in public while Jasper and Seth and so many others at our school did it without thinking twice, without repercussions.

If I was honest with myself, I felt like it was pretty obvious something was going on between us anyway, so when I thought back to the sound of the door opening in the locker room a few minutes earlier, I suddenly didn’t feel any fear.

The dam holding the stream back had been dying to break for a while now. I wanted to hold her hand and hug her and not make up excuses to be present at her games. I wanted to put my head on her shoulder in public like Jasper did and be comfortable enough to fall asleep. I wanted to run onto the court like the cheerleader earlier and kiss her when she won, spin her around like in a romantic comedy, show the whole world how proud of her I was, regardless of what anyone might have said.

I wasn’t ashamed of us. I wasn’t ashamed of me. I had the privilege to live in a space where I could express myself without fear of danger; maybe it was time to step out of the glass closet I had locked myself in once and for all.

20

Evelyn

Noelle Daniels caught with yet another hookup.

These words were the first thing I read when I woke up on Sunday morning. Below them was a photo that showed the girls’ locker room at Westbridge, shot through a tiny crack in the door. It was blurry, as if the photographer had already been in the process of turning, but Noelle was still clearly recognizable, eyes bright with triumph and an uncharacteristically soft smile on her lips.