Different Kinds of Fruit by Kyle Lukoff

Author:Kyle Lukoff [Lukoff, Kyle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2022-04-12T00:00:00+00:00

chapter 13

Bailey walked me home after the sleepover. The late September morning was warm and bright. Our stomachs were full of toaster waffles. Bailey was carrying my sleeping bag while chattering about the panel idea they had come up with.

“How many people should there be?” they asked. “I don’t think three is enough, but if there’s six or seven people, no one would be able to talk. Four? Does four sound good? Three adults and then that high schooler? I should find out their name. And their pronouns, also, since not all nonbinary people go by they/them.”

I was having a hard time keeping up, Bailey was talking so fast. “Yeah, four sounds good,” I said. “Would they all be people from Seattle?”

“Unless you know of anyone here who would want to.”

I shook my head, but what did I know? Maybe there were a lot of LGBTQ people in Tahoma Falls who wanted to be out. Sometimes when Bailey talked about Seattle, it sounded like another planet, not a city a forty-minute drive away. And then we were at my house. My dad came out to help me carry my things inside and gave Bailey a nod. “You two had fun?” he asked.

“Yeah!” they said. “Plans are a-hatching. Thanks for letting her come over.”

“Our house is also available for sleepovers,” he said, and while he wasn’t exactly smiling, there was some relaxation around his mouth, and a drop of warmth in his voice. Bailey grinned, we hugged goodbye, and my throat and stomach throbbed like my crush had its own heartbeat. I forced myself to let go before they noticed anything, and my father and I went inside.

I threw my sleeping bag in the closet and my dirty clothes in the hamper. I was about to put my toothbrush back in the bathroom when Dad knocked lightly against the doorframe. He leaned against it, not quite coming in.

“How was it?” he asked.

Bailey’s family is so much cooler than ours in every way, is what I wanted to say. But that wouldn’t be fair. “Nice,” I said. “Their dad is a good cook. We had risotto!”

“Fancy,” he said. He hesitated, clearly struggling over his next question. “Do you know if . . . if Bailey told them. About me.”

“Yes.” His body sagged against the frame, but I couldn’t tell if it was in relief or disappointment. “They told me about this group they were part of in Seattle, called Spectrum Families. For kids and parents who are gay or trans or whatever. And Bailey’s mom asked if you knew any other trans people in Seattle, because . . . um, because maybe some of them were in the group, and I said you didn’t.”

Or so I thought. “I do, actually,” he said. “For a few months I had to go to a trans health center down there, to get my prescription. Hormones,” he clarified. “Testosterone. I chatted with some guys I met in the waiting room. They gave me their numbers, but we didn’t stay in touch.

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