Heteroflexible

Bobby laughs, then gives my brother an assured nod. “I’ll take great care of him, don’t you worry.”

Tanner throws an arm over Bobby’s back, taking him off to talk to him about who-knows. I cross my arms and watch them, feeling completely out of my own body right now.

How quickly everything changes, just from letting out a little secret from my heart.

I realize now after having come out that I care a whole lot less about what people think of me than I thought I would. Maybe it’s part of my privilege of living in a place like Spruce that gives me such confidence. In other places in the world, it isn’t as safe to come out. In some places, it isn’t safe at all.

I wish the whole world could embrace people for just being themselves like this special place does, and the only thing you get judged for is wearing last season’s shoes to a party.

I peek down at my own.

Nah, mine are in the clear.

“J-Jimmy, sir?”

I glance behind me, startled. The person who stands there is a young fellow, a teenager, maybe sixteen or so—TJ McPherson’s age. He’s got a baby face, a cute upturned nose, and big eyes. He’s pretty slender, too—a total swimmer’s build—and cheeks that look permanently flushed. He’s in a fitted dress shirt and slacks, and his light brown hair is flipped up in the front.

“You look familiar,” I tell him, thinking on it suddenly. “Have I seen you at Biggie’s before?”

“I work there. I-I’m new there. My name’s Toby. I just wanted to say that I really liked yours and Bobby Parker’s dance. It was …” His eyes flash with a thousand dreams and hopes and wishes. “It was really … uh, sharp.”

“Sharp?” I smirk. “You hopin’ to be a dancer someday, Toby?”

“Not really. I mean, it’s cool and all, but … I think my thing is painting. I really like to paint.” He smiles nervously. “You and … and Bobby did a great thing today. It gives me hope.”

At once, it clicks in place.

My mama mentioned a kid at school who’s getting bullied, a kid who just came out as gay and was just hired at Biggie’s Bites. Didn’t she mention his name was Toby, too?

I give Toby a reassuring pat on his shoulder. “Thanks, Toby. I appreciate that. Y’know, the secret to findin’ yourself is to just be strong, trust your own mind and heart, and …”

I peer off at wherever Tanner has taken my Bobby off to. My heart feels tickled suddenly, like I worry I’ll never feel happier than I do this day.

Then I finish: “… and when you make a friend, you stick with that friend ‘til the end.”

Toby’s eyes light up. “A friend …”

I give his head much the same kind of fussing that my big bro gives me, feeling suddenly like an older brother to this budding, goodhearted teenager. “Stay strong, Toby. Your friends are your home away from home, no matter where you are.”

That’s exactly what Bobby is to me.

And it’s what he’ll be forever, no matter where our future takes us.

It isn’t much longer before Bobby and I are together again and peering out over the pavilion full of happy and inspired faces.

“Ready to sneak outta here?” I ask Bobby, squeezing his hand.

He turns to me. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Hand-in-hand, we scurry out the back of the pavilion and make our way up the long curved driveway to my truck for one last adventure to end our night.

25

BOBBY

The stars pour over our bodies.

We lie side-by-side on a pile of soft blankets in the bed of Jimmy’s truck, right on the outskirts of the Spruce woods.

“You ever wonder why this town’s called Spruce?”

I chuckle lightly at his question, my eyes lost among scattered constellations. “Not once, ever.”

“I mean, spruce trees are more common in the north.”

“I can’t even tell ya what a spruce tree looks like,” I admit.

He relaxes against me, his head resting on my chest, and my own resting atop his head. His hair smells so clean and inviting.

Then he goes and asks, “What did Camille whisper to you?”

I don’t recall what he’s asking at first. “Huh?”

“Camille. She leaned into you and whispered something just before she left. What’d she whisper?”

A smirk finds my lips as I hear her whispering in my ear all over again. I kiss the top of Jimmy’s head, then reply, “Ah, nothin’ much. Just that I need to take care of you.” I bite my lip. “And that I was the perfect guy … up for the job.”

“Job? What job?”

“Of taming the Jimmy Strong.”

“Taming? I don’t need no tamin’. I ain’t a wild animal.” Jimmy chuckles lightly to himself, amused. Then, after a spell of thought, he whispers, “So … do you forgive me finally, then?”

The tight squeeze of my arms around his body is my answer.