Page 84 of Reggie and Delilah's Year of Falling

“No. I mean, well... that, too. Yes.” He covers his face with his hands. “But I guess I was using them to, I don’t know, like, hype myself up? When I would think you were out of my league—which you are, for the record—and, you know, get scared, I would use them as signs. That we were meant to be.” He’s peeking between his fingers, and I can see the insecurity in his eyes. I get flashes of this other side of him—vulnerable and unsure—every once in a while, and they feel like little gifts. Another part of Reggie that he doesn’t share with anyone else because he’s otherwise so confident and self-assured. It makes me want to show my secret sides to him too.

“Can I play you something?”

His eyes brighten and he starts nodding excitedly. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

So I walk over and grab Mabel from her case and sit down on Georgia’s bed across from him. I feel my throat get tight with nerves because last time I risked this, it went nothing like I hoped. But I swallow that worry down. I take a deep breath and start to sing the new lyrics I’ve been working on, about how I feel right now. Like how I can be my whole self with Reggie because he’s his whole self with me. My eyes study my fingers instead of him, as I pick out the notes and chords on Mabel as best as I can.

When I’m done, it takes me a second to look back up at his face, because I’m scared what I might find. I’m happy with what I’mcreating. I’m proud of my work, and I’m not going to let anyone take that away from me. But this is different from just sharing it with Charlie, Asher, and Beau. If Reggie doesn’t like my music... it’ll be a lot more painful.

But every single one of his teeth is showing in the biggest grin, and he’s staring at me all wide-eyed, like I’m something special.

“Delilah, that was—that was beautiful.”

“Yeah?” Relief and joy bubbles up in my chest and comes out as a giggle.

“Um, yeah.” He stands up from my bed and walks over to Georgia’s, kneeling in front of me. “I mean it. I’m so fucking impressed. How did I get the coolest, most talented girlfriend ever?”

I can feel my cheeks burn. “Oh, stop.”

“No, for real. Like, you need to record that right now because it’s all I want to listen to... basically forever.”

I roll my eyes, but his words fill me up with giddiness. “Well, nothing can really happen without a band,” I say, trying to temper my feelings. “It needs something more, like a drumbeat that starts off slow, maybe a little... irregular? And then builds into something heavy—does that make sense? And then the bass, well, I don’t really know, yet but—”

He kisses me, swift and sure.

“You’ll figure it out,” he says as he pulls away, our noses still touching. “I believe in you.”

And when he says it, I believe in myself too.

Halloween

Reggie

“Hey, yo, where’s your costume, baby bro?” Eric says, grabbing my shoulder.

He’s having friends over for Halloween—not a party, if my parents ask—so I was waiting until the very last second to leave my room and make a beeline for my car. I thought I would be done with all this hiding and sneaking around after Eric and his friends graduated in June. But they all stayed local for college and have continued to patrol our hallways like the Goombas in Super Mario Bros. And apparently I wasn’t slick enough this time because I’ve somehow found myself in a crowd of Lakers, or at least guys dressed up like Lakers, standing at my front door.

“Yeah, isn’t this your thing?” Tyrell asks. He has a dramatic unibrow drawn on and he’s holding a fog machine. But I guess my lack of a costume is more important to him, because he sets it down and turns his attention to me with a douchey look in his eyes. “You could be wearing your like, unicorn horns, or whatever it is youfucking do, and no one would sayshitto you tonight, bruh!”

“He’s probably trying to play it cool ’cause of his girlfriend,” Eric says, nudging Tyrell with his elbow. “That girl’s about to be running if he pulls out the unicorn horn.”

“I don’t even own a unicorn horn,” I mumble, but it’s drowned out by Frankie hollering, “Reggie’s got a girlfriend? This Reggie? No!”

“She white?” Tyrell asks, and they all explode into laughter. “This chickhasto be white!”

“Hey, hey, now! You can’t even be saying nothing to him, Tyrell.” Eric slaps his shoulder. “Ain’t like you got a girl here with you tonight... or any night!”

“Oh!” Frankie pumps a fist, and Tyrell covers his face and laughs.

Eric points at me and winks, and I don’t get what he’s trying to do. Is this supposed to mean something, him taking Tyrell down a notch? Is it supposed to make me feel better?

All I know is I don’t want to spend any longer thinking about it. I weave my way around them and walk out the door to meet Delilah and my friends.

Everyone else is wearing costumes. And it’s not like I can even claim I didn’t get the memo, because Yobani sent out a significant number of memos. But the idea of being dressed up here at Pa’s Pumpkin Patch, a very much public place, made my stomach feel sick. I don’t want that kind of attention or eyes on me—I mean, look what I got with Eric and his friends when I was just tryingto exist—and wearing a costume as an almost adult feels like an invitation for eyes on me.

Most of their costumes are pretty low-key, thank god. Leela and Ryan are two doctors fromGrey’s Anatomy, a show I didn’t even realize was still on, and Yobani is Miles Morales, but he has a hoodie on with the mask pulled down around his neck because he kept bumping into little kids. Delilah is dressed like Poly Styrene from that band she likes, X-Ray Spex, with a bright red jacket and a captain’s hat, which of course no one gets—she just looks really cool. Greg, though, went all out as Slarog, the cloud giant from our D&D campaigns. I’m talking grayish-white skin, a blue wig, some tall-ass boots that make him tower over us. He’s even wearing this, like, metallic loincloth thing that he—for all of our sakes—put some gym shorts under. It’s a lot.

“Mommy, is he Thanos?” a little boy in a Buzz Lightyear costume asks, squinting up at Greg.

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