“It was fine,” I say, sinking down onto her bed, my back against the pillows. “I’m happy to be back, too.”
“Everything okay yesterday?” She joins me on the bed, moving the laptop to the floor so she can stretch her long legs. “Sorry I couldn’t talk. Dad had this meeting with a client and wanted me to go with him, and you know his rule about talking on the phone during a road trip.”
“Everything’s fine,” I say. I don’t want to get into the Lionel thing right now. I don’t want her to think I’m accusing her of abandoning my brother. DeeDee is fiercely loyal; abandonment is not in her nature. But she’s one of the few people who know Lionel’s diagnosis, and a part of me can’t help thinking maybe she didn’t try hard enough with him.
She toys with the milkmaid braids wrapped around her head like a wreath. “So… anything new with Iris?”
I let out a breath. DeeDee knows about Iris—about us—but I didn’t expect her to ask so directly. Or so soon. “She left the day before me and we said good-bye and… I don’t know. She’s back home in Michigan now.”
DeeDee’s mouth turns up at the corner. “Did you say good-bye or good-bye?”
“Dee…”
“Suzette,” she mocks me. “Are you seriously trying to be shy with me?”
“I’m not trying to be anything, I just…” I pause, remembering the look on her girlfriend’s face as she left the room. “Does Alicia know? About Iris?”
DeeDee looks at me with soft eyes. “I’m sorry. I was so excited for you and it slipped out and—well, I know she hasn’t said anything to anyone. She doesn’t even go to our school.”
Even so, she’s downstairs with all our friends right now; the news could slip out of her as easily as DeeDee revealed it, and then what? I have to explain myself for the rest of the summer to people I’ve barely seen for the past year?
But I say, “It’s fine.” Because Alicia doesn’t seem like the gossipy type. And while I’ve always been able to trust Dee with my secrets, a part of me assumed she would tell her girlfriend, if only to announce another initiate to the girls-liking-girls club. “But I feel like she thinks we’re going to start hooking up now.…”
DeeDee laughs loud and long, a laugh that comes from deep in her belly and makes me smile in spite of myself. “You and me? First of all, you’re not my type; your boobs are way too big. But also, it’s not like that, Suzette. Like, you start making out with girls and so we have to make out because I like girls, too.”
“It was one girl,” I say, sliding down the bed so I’m lying flat on my back, no longer supported by pillows. “And that’s the thing: I haven’t felt like that about any other girl. So maybe it was a one-time thing… an Iris thing.”
If that’s even possible, to like someone so wildly different from everyone else you’ve been attracted to. Were we just experimenting all those nights in our dorm room, under the covers, hands sliding over curves and lips exploring freely? Iris had been with other girls; she was experienced. But I’d only ever kissed boys, and only two at that, and always with our clothes on.
“That could be true,” DeeDee says thoughtfully. She turns to face me. “Do you still like guys?”
“I don’t know.” I close my eyes and try to remember the last guy I thought about that way. Emil. My eyes fly open. He doesn’t count. He’s cute and he looks really good tonight, but—he’s Emil. “Maybe?”
“Well, you don’t have to figure it out now.” DeeDee touches my arm. “Or ever. Just like who you like.”
“Says the girl who’s known she was a lesbian since the day she was born,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I was eight, smartass,” she replies. Then, with an exaggeratedly dreamy expression, she says, “I still think Ms. Bowling is one of the prettiest people I’ve ever seen. I looked her up a while ago. She was living up in Portland with some dude. Alas, we never could’ve been.”
“Never mind that she was your third-grade teacher.” I sit up. “Hey, Dee?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you not tell anyone else about Iris? I don’t know if I can talk about it yet.” There’s still too much I don’t understand, like why, even though everything I did with Iris felt good, I was still so shy about kissing or touching her first. Even after weeks of fooling around. Or why, after what happened a couple of weeks before we left Dinsmore, I’m scared of the same sort of judgment here, though I’m surrounded by queer friends and allies.
“Of course,” DeeDee says. “And I know she hasn’t told anyone, but I’m sorry I mentioned it to Alicia. That wasn’t cool.”
“It’s okay.” I squeeze her hand. “Really.”
And it is.
Because the person I’m most worried about knowing the truth is myself.
More people have arrived and the scene downstairs is larger, louder. DeeDee gets pulled away almost as soon as we reach the first floor, and I stand still for a moment, holding on to the steel banister as I look around the room.
“So where’s Lionel?” comes the voice I hoped I wouldn’t have to hear again tonight.
Catie is standing in front of me with her arms crossed, and her red-ringed eyes tell me she’s had a couple of drinks since I saw her out back.
“At home.” I don’t offer anything else, and most people would respect that, but not Catie.
“You know he never comes around anymore?” She eyes me as if I have something to do with this. “People are saying he’s schizo.”
My skin goes cold. “Who’s saying that?”
She scratches at a spot on her shoulder. “Well, is he? If he’s not schizo, what’s wrong with him?”
“There’s nothing wrong with him, first of all,” I begin, stepping closer. Catie takes great joy in intimidating people, so it’s best to remind her that I’m not scared. “And second, what makes you think it’s any of your business?”
“It’s creepy, how secretive you guys are about everything,” she says, obviously not intimidated by me, either. She lifts her chin. “Like no one can break through your little duo.”
I look her dead in the eye. “You’re being an asshole, Catie.”
Her lips twist together into a smile. “Well, at least I’m honest, Suzette.”
She stomps off for the second time this evening, and I make a silent promise to stay as far away from her as possible this summer. But it’s hard to get her snide tone out of my head, and I’m stuck on the last thing she said, about being honest. Does she know more about Lionel than she’s letting on? Does she know something about me?
“Whoa, who pissed you off?”
I look up to see the tattooed girl leaning against the wall on the other side of the foyer, now in possession of a beer bottle. And realize I’m still glaring after Catie, fists clenched at my side.
“Nobody worth knowing, trust me.” I feel my body relax and I try to smile at her, but it’s easier to stare at the indelible ink on her arm rather than look at her face.