Did you have a good time? she asks.

I think, for this one moment when it’s just the two of us and my father won’t hear, of telling her the truth. Of telling her how full of emotion I feel when I’m with Gabriel, of how complete, somehow. Of how myself.

I think of asking her if she ever felt like this for my father because I can’t believe that anyone could. Then she breaks the silence and says my father thinks I’m spending too much time with James, and it isn’t that she necessarily agrees, but she feels like she should tell me because, of course, we don’t want to upset my father, and I stare at her until she says good night and goes back to her room.

James is on my fire escape.

That’s kind of creepy. You know that, right? I ask.

Well, it’s not like I let myself in.

He’s right. Besides, I’m glad he’s here. I climb out and sit next to him. He’s wearing a billowy white shirt that he’s managed to keep immaculate, even though he’s climbed up a flight of dirty iron stairs. There is no way I’m going to tell him about my mother’s warning.

Did you have a fabulous time? he asks, handing me a joint. I’m feeling glum, and I was hoping to live vicariously through your torrid love affair.

It’s not exactly torrid, I tell him and take a hit, trying not to cough. Although I’m getting to the point that I wish it were.

Why isn’t it, then?

Because…I mean, where would we go?

James points to the sky, to the city, lit up like a Christmas tree. He says, Out there. The world is your oyster.

I have a ritual. At the end of every school year, I go through my papers and throw out most of them. Chem tests and history lessons. I keep some of the English papers that don’t suck too much, and the occasional art project, even though I draw like a fifth grader. And my report cards.

But I haven’t been sure what to do with my results from the career assessment. It seems like the kind of thing that would be cool to find in a box twenty or thirty years from now.

The stack of papers is on my desk as I’m getting ready for bed. The paper clipped to the top is the list I doodled in the margins on.

• Fall in love

• Figure out who the hell I am

• Have sex without catching something

• Repair my family

• Escape

I think I’ve done the first.

Probably have work to do on the second.

Definitely have work to do on the third.

But, repair my family? Is that even possible? I’m starting to wonder if we’re broken, or things were hopeless from the beginning.

And escape? Sure, as soon as I find a place where I can hold Gabriel’s hand in the street without worrying about someone threatening to kick the shit out of me.