Page 25 of No Capes
I force a smile. “It’s okay.”
Molly tucks her black braid behind her ear and leans closer, as if about to share a secret. “Your mom gave me the idea to write about all the homophobia in Capital City schools. I didn’t get to publish anything until… after. TheDailyeditors wouldn’t run it until sophomore year. Really stupid.” She collects herself. She’s gone stony and quiet, from sad to angry in two sentences. “I mentioned to Meredith that no teacher ever discussed the LGBTQ spectrum. Not once, the whole time we were in middle school. She taught me how to investigate why. The look she had during that conversation… that’s how I remember her.”
I imagine Molly with a notebook, hanging on to Mom’s words in a room filled with computers. Kristen had been shouting about injustices in the education system for years, but to no avail. Molly finally published an exposé on how Capital City schools censored any discussion of LGBTQ health because the school board felt teachers couldn’t talk about it without offending anyone, so they shouldn’t talk about it all. The article pushed for change and LGBTQ advocacy. We got it, thanks to her.
“Thanks,” I say. “For telling me.”
Damian shoots three balls into the pool table’s pockets and throws up his hands in victory. “Read the headlines tomorrow,” he shouts. “Damian Scott Jr., Billiard Champion. The entire world will know.”
Fox swats at him with his pool stick.
That gives me an idea.
“Actually, Molly. Do you still write for theChronicle?”
“I usually do one article a month. Why?”
My idea is bold, risky, and possibly illegal. Itmightwork.
If the media runs a story about Golden Ace finding evidence that the CCPD didn’t follow up on, it could pressure the cops to find my mother’s missing autopsy. Having the press investigate would be poetic and effective.
Molly agrees to help. When I finish explaining, the music stops, the room’s walls cease to vibrate, and Brynn calls, “Come and eat, kids.”
“Sometimes I forget how young she is,” Molly says, “She talks like my grandma.”
I laugh, but notice streaks of purple crayon on the banister, and I pause before following her. Fox’s friends scramble up the stairs like bees swarming pie. Damian and Jamie wrap up their game and file out at the end of the pack. Only Fox and I stay.
He leans on his pool stick, resting his chin on the chalky tip. “Looks like we’ll need another rain check.”
“Why?”
“Because it will cheer you up,” he states, matter-of-factly.
“I’m fine.” A barb of defensiveness cracks my tone, and he studies my pinched shoulders. He knows I’m not fine—not all the way.
The dim light in the basement highlights his golden features. His face is still, void of every pretense, and he fills the room with a fractured familiarity. He’s not fine either.
“Food will help.” Fox’s gaze flicks to the stairs.
My stomach growls, and a friendly twitch plays on his lips.
He waits for me to move first.
We’re both two feet away from someone who understands, only neither of us will admit it.
“Where were you during the assembly today?” I ask.
“At the assembly.” He raises an eyebrow. “Nice of you to look out for me.”
A dare.What about Damian? Or Aaron?If Fox knew, he wouldn’t tell me anyway.
I turn to go. I’m halfway up the stairs when he calls out, “That’s a nice dress.”
I wonder if it would be okay for me to borrow something from Brynn’s closet.
~
Dinner is spinach lasagna and a kale and bean salad. For dessert, pumpkin cheesecakeandpumpkin ice cream. No crème brûlée.
