More Happy Than Not

“Leave him alone!” I’m breathing hard. I press down on his throat harder when he tries flipping me back with his legs, an old wrestling trick he used to be great at. I bet he’s regretting teaching me how to fight. I get off and check on Thomas while Brendan catches his breath. Thomas isn’t bleeding, but I can tell he’s doing his best not to cry.

“You’re okay, you’re good,” I tell him.

I help him up and he wraps his arm around my shoulders. Baby Freddy and Skinny-Dave kneel by Brendan and they all watch us walk off.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas tells me. “I didn’t know you hadn’t said anything—”

“Stop. It’s not your fault. He’s a fucking asshole.”

He rubs his face and his eyes squint; a tear escapes. “You didn’t have to take my side, Stretch.”

I kind of, sort of, definitely always will.

6

SIDE B

Defending Thomas yesterday was instinctive, but not easy. If someone were to write my biography, there would be many stories about Brendan and Baby Freddy and Me-Crazy and the rest of the crew. They’re my history. But I slept okay last night knowing I chose the person who agrees with the happy ending I’m building toward, not the ones who would punch in a face to demolish it.

I brought beer over to Thomas’s house earlier today. Perk of being a cashier at Good Food’s is how I get away with checking people’s IDs but no one has to check mine when I cash out. I sit up against his bedroom wall, chugging back the rest of my third Corona as Thomas twists his fourth PBR open. I get another too, not just to catch up, but because I need a drink when I catch Thomas icing his bruised eye with the freezing can.

“I’m sorry for the thousandth time. I don’t know what got into him.”

“He thinks I’m stealing you away from them,” Thomas says, like it’s okay he got snuffed because my friends are jealous of all the Aaron Time he gets. “Do you ever think you’ll tell them? Side A?”

“Maybe one day I’ll move away and send a postcard saying, ‘Hey, I like guys. Don’t worry, I never liked any of you because you all suck.’”

Thomas looks left and right, then over his shoulder, and peeks out his window. “Sorry, just making sure Brendan’s not hiding around here to punch me before I ask this next question.” We both laugh. “You think you’ll ever tell Genevieve?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t even heard from her the past couple of days. I have words I can say, I guess, but I’m scared she’ll take it as a blow, like she turned me this way or something.”

“I’d pay to be there for that conversation.”

“It won’t be for another few eons, so hang tight.”

“Who’s your celebrity crush?”

“What?”

“I’m trying to help you get more comfortable with everything.”

“Okay, then. Emma Watson,” I answer. He raises a large, skeptical eyebrow. “Look, she was awesome as Lexa the Enchantress in the Scorpius Hawthorne movies, and if she wanted to marry me, I would magically be straight again. But on the dude side of things, I’m going to have to go with Andrew

Garfield. Slinging around with Spider-Man would be badass. How about you?”

“Natalie Portman really won me over in Garden State. I even loved her in Star Wars: Episode One . . . She was the only good thing about that trilogy,” Thomas says.

Not exactly what I was hoping to hear, but I’ve got three and a half drinks in me on an empty stomach, so I’m feeling ballsy. “Who would your guy crush be?”

“Like if I had to go gay for someone?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” Thomas lays back and rests his head on his pillow, kicking his knees up. He chugs his PBR like a funnel, until it’s empty. “I gotta go with my dude Ryan Gosling. He has swag and I couldn’t help but want to be him after watching Drive.”

“I would ride shotgun with him,” I agree.

“PBR me.”