I Wish You All the Best - Mason Deaver Page 0,4

shut.

I don’t want to believe that, but it’s been ten years. Since she graduated, since we last talked to each other, since she left me alone with them. She could be a totally different person. The kind who hates who I am. But then again, I thought Mom and Dad might not either.

“Ben?”

I jump at the voice, not daring to look up.

“Benji?” It’s been forever since someone called me that. “Come on.”

It seems impossible for Hannah to already be here, but who knows.

“Hannah?” I murmur. My throat feels like it’s full of something. It’s harsh and prickly.

“Come on. These are your socks, right?” She picks them up carefully. The disgust on her face is humiliating.

I nod. “They’re ripped.”

“They’re wet too.” She balls them up and throws them in her purse. “Let’s get you home.”

I shake my head. “Don’t want to.” I feel like a child, but the thought of going back there—I can’t go back there.

“I meant my place. Come on.” Hannah puts her hand on my shoulders so she can grab under my arm and help pick me up. I guess I have been sitting here for an hour, because all the blood starts rushing into my legs again, filling them with that television-static feeling I hate. We walk out slowly, each step sending a sharp sting up my spine. I’m silently praying that the cashiers have found something else to do so they won’t see us.

Hannah’s car is still running, thankfully. When she’s finished helping me into the passenger’s seat, buckling my seat belt for me, she bolts across to the driver’s side. “I should’ve turned your seat warmer on, sorry.”

At least the car is warm.

“You feeling okay?” Hannah puts the car into reverse and backs out of the parking space, glancing between me and the rear windshield.

“Yeah,” I say, even though “okay” might be the thing I’m furthest from now. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Everything is … it’s gone.

“Are you hungry?”

I don’t reply. I’m not though. Mom had made chicken for dinner, but since I’d been planning this for weeks now, months even, my stomach had been churning all day, so much that I knew I’d never keep down whatever I ate. Even now on an empty stomach, my appetite is nonexistent, and the thought of any sort of food makes me feel sick.

“Ben?” Hannah says my name again, except this time she feels a thousand miles away. Then I hear her mutter, “Taking you to the hospital.”

“No.” I grab her arm, as if that’ll stop her from making the U-turn. “I’m fine, I swear.”

“Benji.”

“Just, can we go back to your place? Please?”

She looks at me with the same brown eyes I have, the ones we both managed to get from Dad.

“Okay.” She finds another turn lane, her blinker clicking in the deadened silence of the car. “You don’t want to talk about it, do you?”

I shake my head. “Not right now.”

“Okay, try to get some rest or something. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

We ride in silence, the only real noise the low volume of the radio playing Top 40 songs. I try to sleep, or to ease my mind, to relax, to not think about what I’ve done. But it’s impossible. Because I said those three little words.

“I am nonbinary.”

Mom and Dad both sat there speechless for a few seconds. Dad was the first to react, asking for an explanation. That was fair, and maybe a good sign. I wasn’t quite sure but was willing to take whatever was thrown my way at that point.

Dad used the T-word, and it came like a slap to the face. I’d never heard him use that word before. That was the moment my stomach sank. I tried to explain the differences, what being non-binary meant, but it was like every time I tried to speak, the more I wanted to cry. Then the yelling started, and everything was moving so fast. I couldn’t talk or make any sense of what they were saying.

“You need to leave.” Dad pointed right at me.

“Ben?”

I must’ve fallen asleep at some point because my eyes are heavy, my mouth groggy and gross, and my limbs tight.

“We’re here.” She puts the car in park but leaves the engine running, vents still spewing hot air.

I stare at the house. The brown bricks and the green siding. I’ve seen it before, never at night, but in Facebook photos and posts. The only way I’d been able to keep up

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