I’m not great at a lot, but I’m good at being Kristen’s friend. Or, I was, until I messed it all up for myself on a stupid whim. I liked it, being in her orbit. Girls wanted to be us. Guys wanted to date us. Even those who hated us wanted a look. I loved that, loved that I mattered, that people were jealous. I loved turning heads. It didn’t matter if most of them were looking at Kristen; I was in their line of vision, and that totally counted for something. Being on the radar at all. It made me more than average. It was everything to me.
I don’t know who I am without Kristen. I don’t know if I want to find out.
I’m interrupted from my thoughts by a knock at the door. Obviously I don’t answer, so it opens on its own. I twist around to see Dad in the doorway.
He hovers for a minute and then clears his throat. “Hey, kid. Can I come in?”
I nod. He walks across the room and sits at the foot of the bed, pushing my feet to one side for room. I lie there and look at him. His shoulders have this tired slump to them, and there are tired lines around his eyes. He looks old. Drained. It makes me wonder how he ever had the energy to do things like paint my ceiling.
“How was school?” he asks softly.
I shrug, pulling my sleeves over my hands. I’m not going to burden him with my problems. This is my hill to climb alone.
“Don’t worry about your mother. I talked her down from siccing Dr. Gebhart on you. You have to understand, she’s just worried,” he says. He puts his hand on my shoe and squeezes. “And I worry, too. Things have been stressful lately. For all of us.”
Is Noah’s father doing the same thing right now, sitting by his bedside and offering comfort? Did he even know his son was gay before I said anything? Does it matter to him?
I fish the whiteboard from the floor where I’d dropped it.
Would you care if I was gay? I write.
Dad blinks a few times. “Are you? Is that what this—?”
I tap the board again with my marker tip. I want to hear his answer first.