Chapters (44)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Books by Julie Murphy
- Back Ad
- About the Publisher
We join the line at the door, and a big, burly guy checks our IDs before slashing big X marks across the tops of our hands with black permanent marker.
As we’re funneled in through a short but narrow hallway, Clem says, “Alex and Kyle should already be here.”
“Oh, joy,” I say.
And if Clem had any sort of response to me, it’s lost to boisterous laughter and a constant buzzing of conversation over Katy Perry remixed with One Direction. Is this heaven? Am I dead?
Actually, based on the smell—cigarettes, sweat, a sickly sweet something, and the faint scent of mildew—this most definitely is not heaven, but it’s a dark little corner of the universe full of oddballs and misfits, and even though I’ve never been a fan of crowds or loud noise, I feel at home. For the first time ever, I have the freedom to blend in or stand out. It’s something I never thought to wish for.
“Follow me,” says Hannah as she takes Clem by the hand, who then takes my hand.
We form a chain link as we slither in and out of people and around tables until we’ve made our way to a small circle table where Alex and Kyle are waiting. The table is made to hold three, but we squeeze in and make it work. Alex is wearing his usual skinny jeans and rumpled T-shirt, and Kyle looks like a missionary in his Sunday khakis and lavender polo shirt. There’s letting your mom dress you, and then there’s looking like you let your mom dress you. Kyle is definitely the latter.
Immediately, Alex and Kyle dive into a conversation with Clem and Hannah while I scope the place out.
There are so many little clusters of people who look just like us—a little bit uncomfortable and a little bit astonished. What’s so special about being the small-town gay kid in a room full of small-town gay kids? But my whole heart feels full and I’m scared to join the conversation at my table for fear that I might start crying for no reason. So this is what it feels like for so many of the people I’ve known my whole life. This is the comfort of effortlessly blending in.
I feel at ease in a way I never have before, and I didn’t realize how distancing it was to watch queer people through a television screen or a computer monitor without ever feeling this kind of close proximity. This kind of safety in numbers.