“Totally,” she says. “You totally are.” The cigarette is down to a nub, still glowing, and she drops it to stamp it out.

I wonder why she wants to talk about Chaz. “Is Chaz upset about what I said that first day?”

“Not as much as Tawny.” She pauses. “But he got your note.”

Oh my god. It never occurred to me he would tell anyone.

“Oh … uh …” I am never speechless! “How did that go over?”

Leeza’s laughs a smoker’s laugh, throaty and warm. “Before or after he burned it?” My god. I’m an idiot.

“What did he say?”

“I’m not going there yet.” She leans close. “You’re actually gay, right, not just setting him up?” Everything about that—her tone, her concern for Chaz, her closeness—makes clear she wants the answer to be yes, that it’s okay.

“OMG, sis. I’m so gay, I’m my own category, Ultra Gay, or GayPlus or—” It feels so good to say it out loud. I mean, my real coming out was so long ago (or, um, so far in the future), it’s a hazy memory. And it wasn’t like I needed to tell anyone, exactly. I’m not Danny Al-Hadid, who played lacrosse and lifted weights and went to NASCAR races and pretty much had to beg people to believe him when he came out. I am a natural Kinsey six and honestly would be an eleven if the spectrum went that high. It’s only been a few days here, and the relief of not having to tamp it down is immense.

Leeza shushes me. “Okay, okay, I get it! But we snuck out, so shouting it is a wicked bad idea, and honestly, even saying that to anyone but me and maybe Laney is a really bad call, period.”

What? “Why Mom?” I correct as quickly as I can, “Laney?”

She doesn’t seem to notice the slip. “She’s like me: the only person I know for sure who doesn’t drink the Kool-Aid.” So that’s a phrase I can safely use here. “She gets that a lot of what the stuff the school teaches is just wrong. I don’t have a kissing-up face at all, but she does, so the school thinks she’s an angel, even though she’s really got a mind of her own. And Frohmeyer adores her, so she’s always getting kids out of trouble. Which is why all the kids love her.”

Okay, wow. My mom, who stayed married to the crap husband all those years and who, if she’s honest, doesn’t really want me to be gay, was not always a doormat with a conservative streak? That she is Miss Independence (well, by First Secondary standards) is total news to me. And she never told me she was popular! Or did I never ask?

“Do you think she knows about me?”