Page 75 of Felix

His statement hits my chest with all the blunt force of a hammer. “What makes you think that?” I ask, my own old wounds flaring beneath my sternum.

“I don’t know,” he says with a huff. “I’m not a big deal like Julian or out saving the world like Eloise. I can’t play an instrument like Bec, and I’m not smart like you. I’m just me, which isn’t much.”

“Hey,” I say sternly, catching Henry’s eye. “Just you is worth a hell of a lot, okay? It doesn’t matter what you do with your life or whether or not you follow anyone else’s footsteps. You’re important to me, to Bec, to Mom and Dad, and to Eloise and Julian. You’re important to your friends and people you probably don’t even know. You’re important, point blank. And being smart in your own way doesn’t make you not good enough, Henry. You could never be a disappointment.”

Even as I say it, I wonder why I have such trouble believing the words myself. But I don’t linger on the thought while Henry is sitting in front of me, looking so uncharacteristically down.

“I don’t want the things everyone else wants, Emil,” he says. “Sometimes I feel like I’m missing some important piece. Like something was left out during manufacturing, and now I don’t function the way I’m supposed to.”

“Are you unhappy with who you are?” I ask.

“No,” he says, and I can tell he means it, which is a relief. “I like myself. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m different.”

From the corner of my eye, I spot Christian approaching. He stops a few feet away from the table, drinks in hand, likely having caught on to the fact that Henry and I are having a serious conversation. But before he can back away, Henry notices him. Christian walks the remaining distance to the table and sets down our drinks.

“Should I come back?” he asks.

Henry shakes his head and grabs his soda. Christian mouths sorry, but I give a little headshake. It’s not his fault.

Christian takes a seat, and, much to my surprise, says, “I’m different, too.”

Henry lifts his gaze off the table. “What do you mean?”

Christian fiddles with the straw in his drink before saying, “I never knew my dad, but my grandma told me about him. He worked in construction when he and my mom met. Before that, back in high school, he played football. He was the hypermasculine type, you know? And all my mom seemed to see when she looked at me were the ways I was different from him. She had a box she expected me to fit in, and I never did. My grandma, though, she also told me my dad was kind and sensitive. Sometimes I wonder what he would have thought of me, but I’ll never get to know that.”

I set my hand on Christian’s arm, my heart aching. It’s not difficult to read between the lines. His dad is gone, one way or another, from Christian’s life. He shoots me a tiny smile, a brave smile, before going on.

“I haven’t fit in many people’s boxes, Henry. I’m gay and femme. I wear skirts but have body hair. I’m vocal when some people expect me to be meek. And it took me time to be comfortable with all that. Being different isn’t bad. The important part is whether or not you’re happy. So fuck anyone who doesn’t get that, and if your parents aren’t proud of the person you are, then that’s on them, not you.”

For a beat, Henry simply stares at Christian, his eyes wide. I stare, too.

Christian turns to me and winces. “Too much? I probably shouldn’t have said fuck, huh?”

I shake my head, huffing a laugh as my heart beats a fast staccato inside my chest. “No. It was perfect.” Christian gives me a relieved smile, and I turn to my brother. “Henry?”

His gaze meets mine.

“I’m proud of you all the time,” I tell him, meaning it. “I thought that the last time I saw you. You’re strong and independent, you think for yourself, you care about your friends and family, and you are smart, whether or not you think it. Didn’t you tell me you figured out a cheat for your game that lets you map the best spots to mine precious gems based on loot drop rates?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

“See? I don’t know anyone else who could write code like that at fourteen. You’re your own person, and I’m really proud of that person. And Christian is right. If Mom and Dad can’t see all that you are, that’s on them.” I speak past the lump in my throat to add, “But I don’t think they’re disappointed in you.”

“You don’t?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I think they just forget sometimes that we need to hear the things they think in their heads.”

He nods, looking down.

“Want me to grab some more tokens?” I ask, looking inside the empty bucket. “We could stay a while longer. It’s only…” I check my phone and cringe. “Eleven.”

Henry huffs a small laugh. “It’s past my bedtime.”

“Yeah, well, Mom and Dad can be mad at me for keeping you out.”

“Thanks, Emil,” he says, voice quiet but a little lighter. “I’m ready to go home, though.”

“All right,” I say before giving Christian’s arm a nudge. Thank you, I mouth.

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