Stay Gold - Tobly McSmith Page 0,80
not talking about Jake,” she says in a bad British accent.
I tilt my head, confused. She gives me that you-know-what-I’m-talking-about look.
“Pony,” she whispers.
I feel dizzy all of a sudden. How the hell did she know?
“Don’t worry, dude. Lauren and Mia don’t know, just me.”
“There’s nothing to know!” I spit out finally.
“Georgia, chill,” she says, laughing at my freak-out. “You kept it secret for a reason. I won’t tell anyone.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” I look down, sad again. “We aren’t even friends anymore.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No,” I lie. The problem is that I was more into Pony than I care to admit. He was the person who I didn’t even think about because I was always just passively thinking about him.
“I miss you, Georgia,” Kelly says in a rare moment of sweetness from her.
“Same,” I say, putting my arm around her shoulder. “We have grown apart. I hate that. Let’s do something about it.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” she says in an Australian accent. It must be accent day in Kelly’s weird head.
“Are you in love with Jerry?” I ask.
She laughs. “Not quite.”
I look at Kelly. “You’re different.”
“Gee, thanks,” she says.
“No. Not in a bad way. I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Please don’t put your finger anywhere near it,” she says.
“There’s my Kelly,” I say.
She waits for me, and we head back to Lauren cry time. She’s being so extra today, and I’m over it. “Lauren, listen to me. Matt is a douchebag,” I say, watching the girls recoil in shock. I’m breaking the code. Why stop now? I continue, “He’s probably an alcoholic. He’s not great at soccer, he’s a terrible dresser, and last week in class he thought avocados were called guacamoles.”
I look at Kelly and Mia frantically, my eyes saying HELP ME, but they take the fifth and stay silent. “Lauren, you’re the full package. There’s going to be more Matts. But only one you. Move on.”
Lauren’s face is frozen. We’re waiting for her reaction. And then she starts crying again. Mia rolls her eyes at me. “What?” I ask. “Don’t you agree that we need to be honest with each other?”
“Georgia,” Mia says with major tone, “we never know what’s true with you. We just gave up on believing anything that comes out of that mouth.”
I am off-balance. That was harsh. Gave up? Oh, hell no. I am on a roll. Why stop now?
“Mia, you need to chill. You can’t control our lives. Especially Lauren’s.”
Kelly leans over. “Not cool, dude. Apologize. Claim temporary insanity.”
I ignore her. I feel alive. All my anger and helplessness has a place to go. “Want to know what else? I wrote that article about the pranks.”
Every eye is on me. And then Mia starts laughing. And then Lauren. And the rest of the girls. They think I’m lying. I shut my eyes and curse my ways. “Let’s get out to the mats,” Mia says.
On her way out, Mia whispers in my ear, “You are on very thin ice.”
IPHONES, 9:03 P.M.
PONY: Dude. Talk to me. Please.
MAX: No
PONY: Come on . . .
MAX: No
PONY: I’m sorry, Maxy
MAX: Apologies don’t matter.
MAX: Action matters
MAX: And visibility
PONY: This is how I want to live my life
PONY: We should support each other’s choices
MAX: Why do I have to deal with the discrimination? Judgmental looks? Dumb opinions said right to my face? While you get to slide through life with no problems?
MAX: WHY IS IT ON ME TO BE OUT HERE AND NOT YOU?
PONY: You are not alone, dude. I’m here.
MAX: Then meet me Saturday night at Ft Worth City Hall
MAX: We’re protesting the place down.
PONY: That’s Homecoming
MAX: And when have you ever cared about school dances?
PONY: SUPPORT MY CHOICES!
MAX: Just emailed you link to petition, post it and we can be friends again
PONY: Dude
MAX: Dude
PONY: You know I can’t
MAX: WFT WHY? Caring about another human won’t out you to your new friends. Just post it.
PONY: No.
MAX: Then I can’t be friends with you
PONY: Come on
MAX: Support my choices.
NINETEEN
Thursday, October 24
PONY, 4:52 P.M.
“Sir, which side do you dress?”
Jerry and Kenji snicker behind me. A cold sweat covers my forehead. I should have seen this coming. I should have come alone.
The tailor looks up at me as he cuffs my dress pants. “Right or left, sir?”
He makes a small chalk mark on the pants and clears his throat, waiting for an answer on which side I put my dick. If I had one, I’d put it everywhere.
“Right,” I mumble. I’m guessing, I don’t know.
“No one dresses right, weirdo.” Jerry says, confirming my