The buzzer for first period rings, and I totally feel the phrase “saved by the bell.” Ma Elena throws open the door, exposing us to the rush of students, wisely assuming we’re not going to break into a big fight with an audience. (Oh my god, it would be awful; I did jiujitsu for like two seconds in fifth grade, so I know Gordo would pulp me.)

Worse, Gordo and I have first period together, so we end up trudging the same way. I try not to look at him, but as we get to Ms. Silverthorn’s room, I hazard a side glance. He’s doing the same thing, and he looks away instantly as if burned by homo rays. Maybe he’s one of the deep closet cases (the worst ’phobes always are), or maybe he’s a classic bigot, just needing an Other to punch when he’s mad. And maybe it doesn’t matter: my attempts to play Dr. Phil won’t keep me safe from either.

At lunch, Chaz, Leeza, and Tawny save me a seat, but Chaz seems strategically placed at the far corner, with Tawny at his side and the others opposite him, so that I cannot possibly sit across from or next to him. He manages to work the words “Tawny and I” into every possible subject: prom, drama, Pre-Cal, last Christmas, Darien Lake, even baby photos—theirs will be side by side in the yearbook.

Ma Elena comes by, sliding into the seat next to me. “Frohmeyer says we can start on the cafeteria Saturday night. They’ll do bagels and sack-lunches in the dorm on Sunday, so we have the whole day plus.”

“Hallelujah!” Chaz stretches a thin arm across the table to high five her. “It is not going to look right if we are throwing up streamers any old way in a panic on Sunday.”

I chime in enthusiastically—and I’m not even faking. “Yay! It gives me something to do this weekend!”

Tawny turns my way. “Are you on the decorating committee?”

“As of this morning,” Ma Elena answer for me. She looks pleased with herself, maybe too pleased, and I’m rethinking the wisdom of her being a confidante. I mean, how do I know she can keep a secret? “I think he’s a perfect fit for this squad.” Oh my god, she just went all gays-are-born-decorators on me—which is kind of homophobic even if, in this case, it’s true—and I’m blushing. Please, Ma Elena, stop.

Leeza understands the implication and is shooting me a “what did I say” look, and Chaz does not seem thrilled. Tawny says she’s glad she’s on yearbook, not prom because she doesn’t want to see any of it before the dance—it’ll ruin the magic. Honestly, she wishes we’d stop talking about it in front of her because we’re kind of killing the surprise.