the only person who gives me grief is maura, who snorts out a black cloud when i explain my story to lizzie. she’s been trying to f**k up my silent treatment by eavesdropping on me whenever she can. i don’t know whether the snort is because she thinks i’m making it up or because she’s disgusted that i’m mistreating my physics lab. or maybe she’s just jealous of lizzie, which is funny because lizzie has acne so bad that it looks like bee stings. but whatever. maura can snort until all the brain-mucus has left her head and pooled at her feet. i will not respond.
I find tiny easily enough in front of the school, shifting from foot to foot. i am not about to start making out with him on school grounds, so i give him a guy-hug (two points of contact! only two!) and tell him that if anyone asks, he should say he’s moving to town in the fall and is checking out the school ahead of time. he’s a little different than when i last saw him - tired, i guess. otherwise, though, his mental health seems perfectly fine.
tiny: so this is where the magic happens?
me: only if you consider blind enslavement to standardized tests and college applications to be a form of magic.
tiny: it remains to be seen.
me: how’s the play going?
tiny: what the chorus lacks in voice, it makes up for in energy.
me: i can’t wait to see it.
tiny: i can’t wait for you to see it.
the bell for lunch rings when we’re halfway to the cafeteria. suddenly, there are people all around us, and they’re noticing tiny the same way they’d notice someone who decided to go from class to class on horseback. the other day i was joking with gideon that the reason the school made all of our lockers gray was so kids like me could blend in and make it through the hallways safely. but with tiny, that’s not an option. heads turn.
me: do you always get this much attention?
tiny: not so much. i guess people notice my extraordinary hugeness more here. do you mind if i hold your hand?
the truth is, i do mind. but i know that since he’s my boyfriend, the answer should be that i don’t mind at all. he’d probably carry me to class in his arms, if i asked him nicely.
I take his hand, which is big and slippery. but i guess i can’t hide the worry on my face, because he takes one look and lets go.
tiny: never mind.
me: it’s not you. i’m just not a hand-holding-in-hallways kind of guy. not even if you were a girl. not even if you were a cheerleader with big tits.
tiny: but i was a cheerleader with big tits.
I stop and look at him.
me: you’re kidding.
tiny: only for a few days. i totally ruined the pyramid.
we walk a little farther.
tiny: i suppose putting my hand in your back pocket is out of the question?
me: *cough*
tiny: that was a joke.
me: can i at least buy you lunch? maybe there’s even a casserole!
I have to keep reminding myself that this is what i wanted - this is what everybody is supposed to want. here’s a boy who wants to be affectionate with me. a boy who will get in his car and drive to see me. a boy who isn’t afraid of what everyone else is going to think when they see us together. a boy who thinks i can improve his mental health.
one of the lunch ladies actually laughs when tiny gets all gleeful about the empanadas that they’re serving in celebration of latino heritage week (or maybe it’s latino heritage month). she calls him sweetie when she hands it to him, which is pretty funny, since i’ve spent the last three years trying to win her over enough to stop getting the smallest piece of pizza from the tray.
when we get to the table, derek and simon are already there - gideon’s the only one missing. since i haven’t warned them about our special guest star, they look surprised and petrified when we walk over.
me: derek and simon, this is tiny. tiny, this is derek and simon.
tiny: lovely to meet you!
simon: ermm . . .
derek: nice to meet you, too. who are you?
tiny: i’m will’s boyfriend. from evanston.
okay, now they’re looking at him like he’s a magical beast from world of warcraft. derek’s amused, in a friendly way. simon is looking at tiny, then looking at me, then looking at tiny, in a way that can only mean that he’s wondering how someone so big and someone so wiry can have sex.
I feel a hand on my shoulder.
gideon: there you are!
gideon seems to be the only person in the school who doesn’t seem shocked by tiny’s appearance. without missing a beat, he leans his other hand out to shake.
gideon: you must be tiny.
tiny looks at the hand gideon has on my shoulder before shaking the hand that gideon’s offered. he doesn’t sound too happy when he says
tiny: . . . and you must be gideon.
his handshake has to be a little firmer than usual, since gideon actually winces before it’s through. then he leaves to pull up an extra chair to the table, offering tiny the place where he usually sits.
tiny: now, isn’t this cozy?
well, no. the smell of his beef empanada makes me feel like i’m locked in a small, warm room full of dog food. simon, i fear, is on the verge of saying something wrong, and derek looks like he’s going to blog about the whole thing. gideon starts asking tiny friendly questions, and tiny keeps giving one-word answers.
gideon: how was the traffic getting here?
tiny: fine.
gideon: is this a lot like your school?
tiny: meh.
gideon: i hear you’re putting on a musical.
tiny: yup.
finally, gideon gets up to buy a cookie, allowing me to lean over to tiny and ask
me: why are you treating him like someone who dumped you?
tiny: i’m not!
me: you don’t even know him.
tiny: i know his type.
me: what type?
tiny: the wispy cute type. they’re poison.
I think he knows he’s gone a little too far there, because he immediately adds
tiny: but he seems really nice.
he looks around the cafeteria.
tiny: which one’s maura?
me: two tables to the left of the door. sitting by herself, poor slaughtered lamb. scribbling in her notebook.
as if sensing our glance, she looks up in our direction, then puts her head down and scribbles more furiously.
derek: how is the beef empanada? in all my years here, you’re the first person i’ve ever seen finish it.
tiny: not bad, if you don’t mind salty. it’s like someone made a pop-tart out of beef jerky.