Page 38 of The ABCs of You & Me

The kid has a point. “Well, I think it comes from calling, um, well, humans’…um…bits?” I ask and he nods, “privates so we use that term for dogs too.”

“Hmm,” he ponders while squinting up at me, and I know I’m about to have an even harder time not laughing because I’ve seen that face before and something ridiculous is coming. “I think we should call them their publics, since they’re out swinging around”—he leans in and whispers—“in public.”

I’m about to tell him that we should use the proper terms for body parts, but I’m clocked in the face by a stray basketball before I’ve even opened my mouth. “Fudgesicle,” I grit out, grabbing my face.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Walsh.” I hear one of the kids yell from across the gym, and I wave away the apology.

To say I’m counting down the hours until I can go home is an understatement. I’m probably going to crash through my door and then sleep for days right there on the kitchen floor. Not even Gary’s incessant meowing will be able to wake me.

The only thing that could make this day better would be seeing Sophie, but she spends Friday afternoons at a different school now, so I won’t see her until I pick her up for brunch on Sunday. Probably for the best in my state. I’m embarrassed enough by my failed car exit from last night.

“Oh, Foster,” Jessica frets when she sees me after gym. “That’s going to bruise. Go grab some ice. I’m sure Pete and I will get along fine without you for a few minutes.”

I know Pete will be fine. My main concern is that if I go to the staff room to grab ice, I’m probably going to sit down, and if I do that, the likelihood of falling asleep in there is high.

I brush off her concern and start gathering the art supplies Pete’s going to need for the paper mâché globes the class is working on. Mixing art with geography is brilliant.

“How’d it happen?” Jessica asks after I get back from the bus pickup line.

“Rogue basketball,” I mutter as I help put away the pieces of art that need to dry before the next step.

“Been there.” She chuckles. “However, not my jaw. You’re going to look super tough.”

“That’s why I got these.” I raise my arm so it peeks out of my sleeve. There are no specific rules about covering my tattoos, but I know they’ll distract the kids, and a lot of these kids don’t need that.

She looks over at me with pity. “Foster, I don’t mean to be rude, but nothing about those tattoos screams tough guy.”

I look down at my arm, now hidden under my sleeve again. I don’t need to see it to know what’s there though. I have no tattoos of skulls, roaring lions, severe Roman gods, or snakes. I have my full nerdom tattooed on my body for the world to see. My left side is allLord of the Rings,and my right represents my favorite books as a kid. No one is going to look at a guy with a tattoo of the Velveteen Rabbit or the Giving Tree and think,oh, watch out, he’s a live wire. And now with what I imagine will end up being a nicely bruised jaw, I’m going to look like the guy who’s easily punched.

She takes my silence as though I am indeed offended and starts apologizing. “Really, they are fantastic tattoos. Ten out of ten on design and execution. Just, well, nothing screams tough guy like a stuffed rabbit.”

“I have layers, Jess,” I object. “Many complicated layers, and within those layers is indeed a tough guy.”

Her eyes narrow as she studies me. “I think if you were defending someone else, I’d be worried for the bad person,” she concedes. “Any plans this weekend?”

Even the word plans has my eyes growing heavier. The thought of having to do anything tomorrow is too exhausting, so I’m glad I don’t actually have to think. “Going to a friend’s show on Sunday, but that’s it.”

“What kind of show?” she asks as she grabs our coats from the closet.

“It’s a drag brunch.”

“Shut up, at Triple C’s?”

“Yeah,” I answer slowly.

She hands me my coat. “I’m going to that with a bunch of friends. Have you been before? It’s my first time.”

Alarm bells start going off in my head. If I show up with Sophie, Jess is going to see, then she’s going to speculate and ask questions. She’s the gossip goblin of the school. She’s going to wonder how the hell someone as accomplished as Sophie is out with a guy like me.

“I’ve been a couple times. It’s alright,” I lie, and my stomach tightens with guilt. “You definitely don’t go for the food, that’s for sure.” I don’t know why I’m saying this. I doubt me saying the food isn’t great isn’t going to stop them from going. And on Monday she’s going to point out that the food is in fact delicious, because it is. There isn’t a single thing about the Triple C’s drag brunch that I’d change.

She looks puzzled. “Huh, the friend who planned it is a chef. Her partner is the head chef at Triple C’s.”Shiitake mushrooms.

“Maybe I was there on a bad day. The second time I only had mimosas.”

We walk toward the parking lot together and I’m glad that she doesn’t ask any more questions. “Well, have a great Saturday.” She waves when we reach my car and continues on to her own. “And see you on Sunday!”

Slumping into my car I wonder if I can come up with a new date while still attending the brunch to support my friend. But then I think about how excited Sophie was when I’d mentioned it, and that goes out the window. We’re going to have to come up with a story. Maybe she can know Lucas too, and we’re simply two supportive friends who happen to find out the other one was going. Or we can be honest that we’ve known each other since we were kids and she’s my sister’s best friend.

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