Virginity is a strange thing to lose. It seems like something you should gain instead: intimacy with another person, a closeness you’ve never had with anyone else. I don’t know if I’m ready for it quite yet. There are too many other things between kissing and sex we haven’t done.
His sleeping bag rustles as he changes position, propping himself up with one elbow. “Tell me a secret,” he says. Outside, crickets chirp. If we have crickets in the city, I never hear them. “Something I don’t know about you.”
“Hmm.” I think about it for a moment. “I cheated on a test in fourth grade.”
He holds a hand to his mouth in mock horror, which makes me laugh. “Tovah Siegel. No.”
“It was a reading test on a classic book I thought was boring, about a girl who was stranded on an island. I only read half of it and figured I’d be fine for the test. But I had no idea how to respond to most of the questions, so I looked at the girl’s paper next to me. I learned my lesson, though.”
“You got caught?”
“No, or it wouldn’t be a secret. The guilt tore me up. I purposely failed the next test to make up for it. What about you?”
“Well . . . I’m a mutant.”
“What?”
“I have four toes on my left foot.”
“No. Seriously?”
“Your grin is kinda scaring me.”
I try my best to bite it back. “The human body is fascinating. Think of all the ways we can get screwed up. It’s a miracle more of us aren’t mutants. Like you.”
“Right. You could’ve consumed Adina in the womb or something, right?”
“I guess so.”
&
nbsp; “I used to freak other kids out when I was little. Some kids made fun of me, but Troy told everyone that my missing toe was a mutation and I was actually one of the X-Men, and that shut them up. And my big toe’s really giant. It’s like it ate the missing toe.”
“That’s not a real secret,” I accuse. “I mean, it’s interesting, but I want something deeper.”
“Fine.” He’s quiet for a moment, then: “I hang out with you and Troy and Lindsay, and I don’t feel as smart as you guys. He doesn’t always act like it, but dude’s a genius. Aced his SAT, straight As, the whole thing.”
“Zack. You’re smart.”
He shrugs. “My grades would disagree with you. And I’m sure my texts are full of grammatical errors you’re too nice to point out.”
“There are a lot of ways to be smart,” I say, though I probably wouldn’t have considered Zack’s art intelligent before this year. “It’s not all about grammar or tests. Your art, for example, that’s smart. I can tell how much thought you put into it, even when you claim it doesn’t mean anything.”
“What I’m trying to say is, you never make me feel that way. Like I’m not smart enough to be with you, even though you’re a genius too. And I really appreciate it.” Our fingers find one another between our sleeping bags, and his thumb rubs mine, dragging another confession from me.
“I have another secret,” I say, and though it isn’t something I’ve intentionally hidden, it all comes out: Huntington’s. Ima. Adina. “Sometimes I feel like I can’t even be sad about it because the guilt is so overpowering.”
He grips my hand tighter. “I can understand that. Your sister, she’s intense.”
“We haven’t been in a good place for a long time.”
“I could sorta tell.”
“I’ve always felt upstaged by her. She was a viola prodigy, and she’s always been so comfortable in her skin. Until middle school, I felt like the invisible twin, I guess.” I sigh. “She was flirting with you at school the other day.”
“I’m with you,” he says simply, as though that cancels out whatever Adina’s intentions were.
“Still. She knows how to charm people when she wants to.”