Page 47 of Home Field Advantage

I should leave.

But I don’t.

When Miguel finally arrives, he’s three minutes late, and I have worn every twig in a six-foot radius down to splinters. “You’re mixing up your secret rendezvous buddies,” he says dryly as he picks his way over to me in the woods of the nature preserve about a mile away from school. I discovered it on a run, and the path around it has become my favorite route ever since, especially when I need to think. I’ve never even taken Amber here, though I’ve thought about it. I hate having anyone intrude on it, but I certainly wasn’t gonna ask Miguel Santiago to climb through my window. “You want the one with boobs.”

And how.“Funny, Santiago. But yes, as you may have guessed, this is about the buddy with the boobs.”

“What did Loud do now?”

“She didn’tdoanything.” I take a deep breath, hoping thisisn’t the ask that fucks up a friendship I don’t even have yet. “I just—look, I was thinking of asking her to homecoming, but, uh, obviously she already has a date. And I know y’all have your arrangement and you don’t wanna be out, but I’d have to kick my own ass if I didn’t at least ask if there’s something we can do here.”

The look on his face is weird and unreadable but doesn’t look like anger. “Have you talked to Amber about this?”

“Not really. Sort of. I mentioned something about it, and she shut me down fast because of you. Which is fine!” I add quickly. “I’m not trying to throw you out of the closet. It’s just… I’ve changed how I feel about it since I got here. It was that stupid date, making me want stupid things I probably shouldn’t want. So I thought I’d check just in case maybe you felt the same way, which, as it comes out of my mouth I realize is even dumber than I thought. I’m new here with no friends and nothing to lose. You’re… not.”

“When?”

Okay, not what I expected him to say. “When what?”

“When did you talk to Amber about this?”

It feels like I’m walking some sort of dangerous line here, and the wrong answer is going to put someone in a world of hurt. The problem is, I don’t know what therightanswer is, or why. “Like I said, I didn’t really talk about it with her. It was, like, a two-second throwaway conversation when we were hanging out last night—”

“Last night,” he says flatly, and I know I’ve chosen wrong.

Fuck.

“Like I said—” I start, but he’s already walking away, taking backward steps away from me through the crunching leaves.

“Last night,” he cuts in, “she already knew I wanted to come out at homecoming, to bring Malcolm with me. Last night, she could’ve said yes if she wanted to, and she knows it. And today, when I talked to her about it, she might’ve mentioned that the only person standing in her way wasn’t me or you, buther.She’sthe one who doesn’t wanna come out, which would be fucking fine if she hadn’t lied to us both.”

It feels like I’ve been sacked by a two-ton linebacker, and I close my eyes against the pain. Of all the shitty ways I imagined this conversation going, this might be the shittiest one I never even saw coming. Not that I don’t know that she has her own reasons for wanting to stay in the closet, but to lie about it? To both of us?

I don’t know if I get to be mad. I mean, you’re never allowed to be mad at someone for not being ready to come out, right? And it’s not like we didn’t agree to keep this on the DL. So no, I’m not mad.

But I do feel shitty.

Why do I feel so shitty?

Maybe because you want to show her off, Miguel wants to show Malcolm off, and once again, you’re the loser no one can be proud of?

Oh yeah, that’s probably it.

Miguel, however… Miguel is pissed. And if he says a word to Amber about this conversation, she’s gonna be even more pissed than he is. For now, I have to focus on talking him down. After that, I’ll figure out how I wanna handle this for myself.

But when I open my eyes to pick our conversation back up, he’s already gone.

I’m so prepared for the sight of Miguel’s bike to beat me to Amber’s house that when I jog up her street and don’t see it, the only thing I can think is that he’s already come and gone. But it’s obvious when I ring the bell and get Amber’s sunny expression that she hasn’t just been face-to-face with her best friend ripping her to shreds.

“Hey!” She sounds a little out of breath, and I look past her and see I caught her mid-workout. Some lady is doing an impossible yoga move on the TV, and my lizard brain can’t help derailing for a sec to wonder if Cheer Girl is equally bendy. “What’s up?”

I wait for her to step aside to let me in, but she stays blocking the door, and I realize with a flash there’s someone inside who is neither Miguel nor her mom. A moment later I get my confirmation when Cara Whelan calls, “Did your mom forget her keys again?”

I know Cara is Amber’s best friend on the squad. I know. I know they go back to childhood and I know she lost the guy she was dating and I know she’s in pain. Iknow.

But Cara Whelan fucking sucks, and the fact that she’s the reason I’m being shoved in the closet sucks even harder.

“I talked to Miguel,” I say flatly, because clearly there’s no real sit-down conversation in the cards for us right now. “He told me he wanted to take Malcolm to the dance. He told me he toldyouhe wants to take Malcolm.”

---