In health class last year, we did a unit on sexual health, and we learned all about sex and gender and reproduction. Our teacher, Ms. Lane, said a lot of people know from an early age which sex they’re attracted to, but some aren’t sure. And some like both. When she said the part about how some people know from an early age, you could tell everyone kind of gazed at Will and Tony. They are the first boy-boy couple to be open about it in our grade. Will raised his hand and said boldly, “That’s me! I’ve always known I was gay.” A few people laughed, and Tony blushed and said quietly, “Me too.”

“Perfect example,” Ms. Lane said, looking a little awkward.

“Well, I’ve always known I’m straight as a door!” Cole Jenkins said.

“Heterosexual,” Ms. Lane corrected.

Cole rolled his eyes.

After that, Ms. Lane gave us this big list of names for how people identify themselves, and it was really confusing. I think by the end of class, no one really knew what to make of any of it or where we fit. Even Cole Jenkins looked confused.

“You can be fluid,” Ms. Lane had said. She made it sound complicated and simple at the same time. The truth is, she can say all that stuff, and be really understanding, but I don’t know if in the real world people are all that open-minded. Even at school, people can be weird about things. It’s one thing for Ms. Lane to tell us that her classroom is a safe space, but people still gossip and it doesn’t always feel like no one’s judging. And besides, there’s a lot more to the school than Ms. Lane’s classroom.

People want to know if you are straight or something else. But the something else implies that it’s something other than “normal.” Will and Tony are lucky no one gives them a hard time. In some places, they would probably get bullied or beat up. And that scares me, too.

I hate the word straight.

I bet it makes everyone else feel crooked. Or slanted. Or not perfect.

George wanders into my room and meows. I drop my hand over the side of the bed, and he comes over and rubs his head under my fingers. I scratch behind his ears, and he starts to purr. I pat the blanket near my chest, and he jumps up. He walks over to sniff my face and touch his cold wet nose to mine, then circles a few times before plopping down next to my head. He continues to purr reassuringly, as if he knows I need a friend.