I nodded, smiling quietly at the shock in his voice. “Oh yeah. Sanford Stewart, aka Helena Handbasket, the fiercest drag queen who ever lived. But I didn’t know who the hell Helena Handbasket was or what this guy was talking about. I told him as much, and Sandy was not impressed by that. That dick was offended that I’d never heard of him before. And then he told me who exactly Helena Handbasket was, and I remember being in such awe of him. He wasn’t like me, but it was almost like he could understand better than everyone else. I somehow managed to tell him what I was looking for, and he helped me pick out the right skirt. He told me that since I had hips, I needed a cut that flattered my lines better. And that led to him buying the clothes for me, and then buying me lunch, and before we said goodbye, he had my phone number and told me that he was going to call me the very next day to see how it went.”
“And how did it go?” Jeremy asked.
I snorted. “I wore a skirt to a public high school in Arizona six years ago. How do you think it went?” Before he could speak, I held up my hand and said, “Nothing I couldn’t handle. You think words can hurt me? I’ve heard them all. Calling me a freak doesn’t say anything about me, but it says all you need to know about the person hurling it like a grenade. It never got physical. But I can take care of myself when I need to.”
“And Sandy called, didn’t he?”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course he did. I know you don’t know Sandy very well, but when he gets his claws in you, it’s impossible to break free, even if you want to. Just ask Darren.” My eyes widened. “But you can never tell Sandy I said that. I like being alive.”
Jeremy chuckled. “Your secret is safe with me.”
I thought I could believe him but still planned to make sure he and Sandy were never alone in the same room. “He called, and made threats against the assholes who gave me shit, and then demanded that I come over to his apartment the following weekend. He and his best friend were going to marathon Battlestar Galactica—”
“The original or the reboot? It better’ve been the reboot.”
“Reboot,” I said slowly. I squinted at him. “Are you a space nerd?”
He flushed as he cleared his throat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Riiiiight. We’ll come back to that, don’t think we won’t. But I went, and I thought I was so cool, hanging out with older queer people. We were going to get drunk, and they were going to fill my head with stories, and it was going to be amazing. But when I got there, Sandy handed me a Capri Sun he’d bought especially for me, telling me he wasn’t sure what kids drank these days. When I demanded something stronger, he laughed in my face and told me I was precious. He then introduced me to Paul, and we all drank Capri Suns and watched Battlestar Galactica.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Jeremy said. And what the fuck. He sounded like he meant it.
“It was,” I said honestly. “I didn’t—there were other out kids at the high school I went to, but I just—I couldn’t find a way to fit in with them. I think I tried too hard. It didn’t help that I carried this chip on my shoulder. But with Sandy and Paul, I could just… be. And then I was introduced to their families, and Charlie, and then Vince and Darren came, and it’s… look. You asked me why I want to do this. It’s because I want these kids to know that they’re not alone. That there are others like them. That while I can’t solve every problem they have or even know exactly what they’re going through, I’m here, even just to listen to them rant and rave.” I looked down at my hands. “I was one of the lucky ones, you know? There are a lot of kids out there who don’t get to have what I do. You look at the statistics of homeless youth, and while that’s heartbreaking in and of itself, the fact that a large percentage of them are queer just… compounds it. I’m not looking to change the world. I don’t think I could do that by myself. But if I could help at least one person, then I know
I’m doing the right thing.” I glanced up at him, feeling my face grow hot. “Uh. That’s it. Sorry I talked so much.”
He shook his head slowly. “That… you don’t have to apologize. At all. Thank you for sharing that with me. And while I can’t say that I understand what you went through, I can appreciate the person you’ve become. You’re pretty remarkable, you know that?”
Oh god. That compliment wasn’t so soft. And neither was I. “Thanks. That’s—thanks.”
He looked down at the folder on the desk again. I assumed it was my file. He flipped through a couple of the pages before closing it and looking back up at me. “I need you,” he said seriously.
TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS! my brain bellowed. PRESENT YOURSELF FOR INSPECTION.
“Excuse me?” I squeaked.
“I need you,” he said again, unaware that those words would haunt my masturbatory fantasies for at least the next six weeks. “I know you probably thought you were going to be the office gofer, and while that might be part of it, I think it would be best if you and I worked closely together. You’re younger than I am, and while I want to be as hands-on as possible, I think it’ll help with you by my side. The kids here will probably see me as the old guy.”
I was still stuck on need and you and hands-on. “You’re not that old.”
He snorted. “Gee. Thanks. That was so heartfelt. I feel better now.”
“That’s not what I—” Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-six.” He held up a hand. “And yes, I am aware of just how old that is in relation to most of the people here.”
Only thirteen years’ difference, my thirst-trap of a brain supplied helpfully. I mean, sure, he probably has clear, fully-formed memories of being a teenager the year you were born, but still! Call him Daddy and see what happens. Do it. Say, ‘That’s okay, Daddy.’
I said promptly, “That’s okay, Daaaaaaammit. Yes, that is okay, dammit!” I slammed my hand on the table. “Age is just a number!” No, no, wrong thing to say. Abort! Abort! “I mean, it’s… distinguished. You are distinguished.”
He groaned and put his face in his hands. “Oh god.”
“No,” I said quickly. “That’s a good thing! It’s like, you know. Awesome. Or whatever.”
He peeked out at me from between his fingers. “I can handle college kids,” he muttered into his palms. “Because by the time they get to me, they’re usually already in the graduate program. But if I’m being honest, teenagers terrify the hell out of me. When I got here this morning, one of them asked me if I had Snapchat. I don’t even know what that is. Did you know they can smell fear?”
I coughed roughly, trying to cover up a laugh. “I can see why you need me.”