to do with us. I wasn’t trying to, like, achieve something with you. I swear.”
“I believe you,” she said. She scanned the rest of the list. “Indya Schoenberg? Interesting.”
“Like I said. A long time ago.” Ruby raised an eyebrow. “Not that I wouldn’t still put you in first place,” I added hastily. “I mean, I wouldn’t make this list now, obviously. I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m trying to compliment you, but it’s not coming out right.”
“Try again,” said Ruby. She set down the list and leaned back against my bed frame, arms crossed. My cheeks reddened.
“You’re beautiful,” I said. “Even more now than…back then.” I gestured at the list. I wished I knew magic, so I could blink and the paper would—poof—explode into dust. I tried it anyway. Nothing happened.
“Thank you,” she said. Her arms remained crossed, I noticed.
“Are you mad?”
Ruby shook her head slowly. “No, I’m not mad.” She looked at me steadily. “I just think it’s funny how you guys decided I was straight.”
So she’s a little mad, I thought. Girls didn’t say I just think it’s funny how unless they were at least a little mad.
“Weren’t you?” I said. “At the time?”
“I was, what. Fourteen?”
“We made it in the spring, freshman year, so probably more like fifteen,” I explained, knowing full well I was losing whatever the argument here was. “You were dating that guy, Mitch.” I didn’t know his last name; he’d been a junior then, a shaggy, skinny stoner. Very cool, of course.
“So?” she said.
“So I guess we assumed you liked boys?” I said. I was embarrassing myself, which made me defensive. “We didn’t spend a lot of time analyzing every possibility. It was just a stupid list.”
“You know, there are these people who like boys and girls,” said Ruby, like she was a teacher and I was a small, dumb child. Which was how I felt.
“I know,” I said. I watched her uncross her arms and pick up the list again. Ugh. What was I thinking, sending her under my bed? Why had she picked this paper up, anyway? I had clearly pointed out the box of photos, now sitting forgotten by Ruby’s left knee. This was supposed to be a cute moment, looking at pictures of me as a toddler tomboy, nestled into each other’s necks. Instead I felt like I was on trial for something ancient and private, something meant only for Jamie and me. Surely Ruby had written things in old diaries she wouldn’t want me (or anyone) to see now. That was the whole point.
“I’m not straight,” said Ruby.
“I get that now,” I said.
“I’ve known I liked girls since I was ten,” she said.
I waited a moment, trying desperately to swallow a reflexive, competitive Well, I was five. “Who was it?”
“Maddie,” she said matter-of-factly. “Of the Disney Channel classic Liv and Maddie.”
I laughed. “The tomboy twin. Naturally. I liked Liv.”
Ruby smiled, and I felt it was safe then to scoot closer to her. I rested my hands on her bare knees. She looked down, and put her hands on top of mine.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “When Jamie and I came out, we were the only people like us we knew. Before her, I had nobody. And for so long, it felt like all anybody would talk about was boys. So I pretended I liked them too, all the way through middle school. I didn’t think I’d ever have another option until I met her. And then, right away, I knew she was different like I was different. So we became a team: us versus everybody else.”
I paused until Ruby finally looked up at me.
“It wasn’t like we consciously believed we were the only girls alive who liked girls. But we were the only ones who were public about it, for a really long time. Even when we started the gay club.” Thinking about the club made me want to cry for some reason, and I retrieved my hands from Ruby’s lap,