Page 154 of Saving Sparrow
“Sorry, what did you say?”
He pulled me to the side. “I asked if you were okay. You seem… anxious.”
Iwasanxious. Anxious to know Kayden’s story, to know how he survived the stares and commentary—sure that he’d experienced both.I also felt inspired, awed, and like I’d found a kindred spirit. All without ever having spoken a word to him.
“Was it the skirt and earrings?” Miguel asked softly, tugging on the end of my braid.
“You saw him?”
He snorted. “How could I not? I saw the people giggling at him too. That won’t be you.” His words were meaningless because they weren’t true. I didn’t need to be convinced that no one would care because they would. I needed to gain the confidence to be myself despite it. I had no clue that what I’d also needed was to see myself in someone else.
“Yeah.” I looked toward the corner Kayden turned down. “I know.” I didn’t know, but since he’d said something intended to make me feel better, I did the same for him.
Miguel slung an arm around my neck, smiling as if he’d made a difference. “Come on, or we’re going to be late by the time we hike it across campus.”
We rushed through the doors of Wembly Hall, and I couldn’t help looking back, wondering where Kayden Sims had gone.
Elliott
Then
Kayden and I only shared the one class, and due to some unspecified acoustic issues in the lecture hall, Intro to English was canceled the following week. I scanned the halls for him whenever Miguel and I transitioned between classes, even watching the entrance to the dining commons whenever we ate there with Quentin during a break in our schedules. He was nowhere to be found, and I wondered if he’d dropped out. But at the end of the second week, I spotted him handing out sheets of paper near the Celia Grant building. Flyers, maybe.
Passing students scrutinized his look. Just like in the lecture hall, he didn’t seem to care, moving on to the next person like he didn’t notice all the eyes on him.
“Dammit,” Miguel bit out, pulling my attention away from Kayden. He patted himself down, then dug around in his backpack.
“What’s wrong?”
“Think I left my badge in Rutford’s class,” he said distractedly, searching for his school ID. He stopped, staring off with a pensive look. “No, I definitely think I left it in Writing Foundations.”
“That was two classes ago,” I said. “It’s probably in the lost and found by now.” A girl walked past us, her attention on the sheet of paper she’d gotten from Kayden. She breezed by too fast for me to clearly make out what was on it, but it was definitely a flyer for some sort of event. There was a date and time stamped across the top in big, bold letters.
“You think they put badges in lost and found?” Miguel sounded skeptical.
“I don’t know. Maybe they emailed you about it?”
“Yes,” he hissed, sounding relieved by the idea. He pulled his phone from the side pocket of his backpack, and I watched as Kayden shoved those flyers at anyone within arm’s reach.
“Thank goodness.” Miguel exhaled. “Someone dropped it off at the English department. They close in twenty minutes. I should hurry over and pick it up now.” He gazed toward the campus exit. We’d been on our way home to eat before our biology class. The English department was on the opposite side of campus and would cut into our time if he went now.
“You won’t be able to get back on campus without your badge,” I reminded him. “Go. I’ll wait here.”
Miguel’s lips thinned. “You’re right. I’ll be quick. Let Quentin know we’ll be there soon,” he called over his shoulder. Quentin’s last class for the day let out over an hour ago. He went home to take a nap and wait for us.
I wasn’t even sure I had my phone with me. I’d never really gotten used to having one, and since I was always with one or both of the only two people with my number, it was never important that I keep up with the device.
I found it at the bottom of my bag, but the battery was dead. I looked up to shout for Miguel to text him, but he was already too far away. With nothing left to do, I slipped my backpack over my shoulders and headed for Kayden.
“Drag night at Queer Life,” he repeated as he handed out his flyers. “Be there and be fabulous.” He spoke and moved with flair, but the gaping mouths were because of the floral princess gown he wore and the curly blonde wig.
“Hey,” he said when he caught me watching from a few feet away, “I know you.”
I looked over my shoulder, thinking he couldn’t be talking to me. “Y-you do?”
“Yeah, you’re in my English class. Kind of hard to miss all that hair.”
I automatically smoothed a hand down the red strands, fidgeting under his stare. He grinned at my awkwardness. Unless I had to, I didn’t really talk to anyone besides Quentin and Miguel.
