Chapter 1: Kendall CHAPTER 1 Kendall Boobs are bouncing, pecs are pulsing, and I''m just trying to breathe. The cheerleading team at my new school is practicing less than thirty feet from my car, and I''m counting like I''m out there stepping along with them, hoping it will calm my activated fight-or-flight. "One, two, three, four," I whisper to myself. "I wanna melt into the floor." I''ve never been a cheerleader, but I used to dance. I was good, but not obsessed or anything, and because my mother--lover of all things that require discipline and intense practice, hardcore "girl mom," and type A overachiever who wants her kids to be the same way--liked it more than I did, I stuck with it longer than I would have otherwise. It was too rigid for my liking, and the costumes were horrific, so I told my mom I didn''t want to dance anymore. She didn''t listen to me until I started hiding when it was time to leave the house for rehearsals.
And even then we fought about it for another month. It wasn''t until the third time I refused to perform in a recital because I hated the costume that she finally let it go. More than dancing, it turns out, fashion is my real passion, so as I glance back over at the squad, I appreciate that the cheerleaders'' practice shorts match the ginkgo trees that have already gone golden on either side of the school building. There''s something soothing, in my hour of distress, about the incidental color coordination. Then, from where I''m hiding in the back seat of my car, I reread the text messages that sent me into my latest spiral. We need to talk. It won''t take long. I can come to you.
No emojis. No "LOLs." The periods are so loud . If there''s one thing I know about my boyfriend of the last seven months, it''s that the kid loves a lighthearted, random T-Rex or roller skate emoji to defuse text tension. There''s none of that here. Because Orlando Song--the kindest, cutest guy on the planet, and my bestie-turned-boyfriend--is probably coming to dump me. I have this problem: Often when I say something, everyone around me misses the point. So a month ago, when I told Ori that I was contesting our school''s new dress code because I''m queer and not because I was simply "being a good ally" like he thought, his face changed in a way that made me think he heard, Yeah, bro! You didn''t know? I''m super gay! I lie flat on my back and squeeze my eyes shut.
Try to breathe in. Hold it. Then let out a slow exhale. "Five, six, seven, eight. I wish I could evaporate." I stare at the ceiling for a few more shuddering breaths before I groan and sit up. "Get it together, Hayes," I whisper to myself. I text back and tell Ori to meet me here, by the track and field at my new, crappier school.
I''m not gay, by the way , I consider sending. Or, not exactly gay . But I just watch the cheerleaders again. It shouldn''t be legal for every aspect of your life to fall spectacularly apart all at once. But here I am. In the last two weeks I''ve been kicked out of my prestigious prep school, gotten into two fender benders, ruined my sister''s birthday, and disappointed my parents, and now I''m moments away from being dumped, dissociating in my car while staring at. cheerleader chests. I know Mercury is in retrograde, but this is ridiculous.
With that in mind, I look up my horoscope, which doesn''t exactly help. Turns out not only is Mercury in retrograde, but it''s stationed in Aries--my sign--and that equals. chaos. With cosmic confirmation of what''s coming, I reapply my eyeliner, exit Savvy (my black Subaru), and head toward the bleachers, desperately thinking that maybe Ori won''t dump me if there are enough witnesses. He''s a Capricorn. Too practical to make a scene. I''m here, he sends about five minutes later. This place is massive.
Where are you? Still no emojis. I look across the vast red-and-green expanse of the track and field. It''s busy. In addition to the cheerleaders, the football team runs drills near the end zone. A few other kids are jogging around the track, and I''m one of about a dozen people in the bleachers. I finally spot Ori near the fence. He''s still in his uniform, looking around like a lost little kid as his soft, curly ''fro blows in the wind. My old school, Baldwin Preparatory Academy, is housed in a tasteful three-story brick building.
The classrooms are spotless, the hallways and cafeteria are orderly, and the courtyard at the heart of the campus is kept in pristine condition. They admit only about seventy-five kids each year, so there are never more than three hundred students in attendance. Until two weeks ago, I was one of them. Oak Haven High, on the other hand, sprawls like a shopping center across an acre or two, and that''s not even counting this monstrosity of a football field. There are easily a few thousand kids at this school, which is good for anonymity but bad in literally every other way. It''s crowded. It''s hot. It''s loud.
And it''s like whoever built this place had no idea of the upkeep required to sustain a building with that many humans moving through it for nine months of the year, so every inch of the school is sort of. gross. I survey anew the peeling paint along the window frames, the overcrowded parking lot, the rusty bleachers. I was gonna sit down, but I decide to keep standing. With my luck, I''ll get tetanus. I lift my hand to get Ori''s attention, and when he spots me, he smiles so big, something in my chest crackles like static. But I can''t smile back. He starts in my direction, maroon blazer folded over his arm and white collared shirt unbuttoned a little too much at the top.
His tie is missing in action. Soon Ori''s right in front of me, looking delicious, his brown skin glistening in the sun. When we hug, he presses his lips to my temple. "Aren''t you looking slutty," I say. He laughs, and it reminds me of an ASMR video, all breathy and softly scratchy, like a freshly sharpened pencil on paper. "How did it go, driving over here this morning?" is the first thing he says. After the expulsion I helped my mom with a few events. All was going well, and it was a nice excuse to get out of the house, until she asked me to drive to a local florist to pick up a few extra bouquets for a wedding.
I backed into a mailbox and dented my mom''s bumper trying to parallel park in front of the flower shop, then shattered the driver''s side mirror on my way back when I sideswiped a city bus. Needless to say, my nervousness behind the wheel has since escalated exponentially. "It. went," I reply. "Hell is other drivers, and I''m not much better. Plus, Nia is still refusing to speak to me, so she took the bus out of spite." This confession earns me a commiserating pat on the shoulder. "And the rest of your day?" Ori asks next.
"It couldn''t have been worse than the last couple of weeks, right?" His dark eyes, lined by bone-straight, mile-long lashes, are trained on me as if I''m the only thing he can see. It''s why I like him. It''s why I''ve always liked him. He''s as attentive as he is hot. "Your face isn''t real," I say instead of answering. "You''re so pretty for a boy." He smiles again, so I use it as a salve for my terrible first day here, just another in a string of terrible days. "Is that why you like me? Because I''m pretty?" "Maybe," I reply, and flick his collar.
There was only one thing I was happy about when it became clear I''d be enrolling in public school: no uniforms. I was so excited to wear whatever I wanted, to not have to deal with the same BS that got me kicked out of Baldwin. I picked out this vintage cable-knit sweater and pleated skirt, and wore penny loafers I (permanently) borrowed from my aunt to complete the look. When I miraculously arrived in one piece after my treacherous commute, I was so happy with my outfit that I recorded a little fit check in the parking lot. But then a girl walked by and asked if I was wearing my mom''s shoes, like, as an insult . I told her to keep talking if she wanted to spend first period digging the shoe out of her ass. The day only went downhill from there. At least at Baldwin I knew who to stay away from (the Snob Knobs(tm)) and where I fit (with Ori and my sister and Jules).
At Oak Haven I have no clue yet. "You''re avoiding the question, Ken," Ori says. He leans down and tilts my head up so I''ll look at him again. "It was. busy," I say, still not wanting to get into it. "How''s Baldwin without me?" He shrugs. "A lot more boring. But Principal Langley found another one of your posters this morning in his filing cabinet.
How''d you even get into his office, let alone his locked closet?" I smirk. "A magician never reveals her secrets." He takes a step back from me, grabs my hand, and tugs me farther up the bleachers. "Let''s sit?" My heart jolts, but I play it cool and follow him up a few levels. His legs are long, like his sister Bianca''s; she just started at UNC-Chapel Hill playing DI basketball. Their mom played in college too. If this conversation goes the way I''m thinking it will, I''ll miss going to Ori''s house after school--the way his mom would tie up her long salt-and-pepper locs before challenging us to pickup games in their driveway; the way his dad would come home from Tigerlily with a box full of mooncakes and baos and stuff us full of them. "So," Ori says once we''re sitting.
He''s still hold.