Eli & Juno

9- Ideas

 I'm too embarrassed by what happened with Juno to try to talk to him. I haven't even had the courage to seek him out at school. Everyday, I think he might find me. More than once, I've heard his voice in the hall and whip around like I'm going to see him smiling and walking towards me. Or I'll spot a group of football players and I'll strain up on my toes to see if he's there.

It doesn't help that everytime I think of him it feels like my heart is running a marathon. Or that Noelle and Poe most definitely notice. They've started a new game where they yell 'August' whenever they believe I'm thinking of him. Which is often.

Very often.

"You're basically attached to that phone," Poe says.

"That's because he's waiting for August to text," Noelle teases. They both 'ooo' even though this isn't new information in the slightest. "I still don't understand why you gave him your number."

"He didn't freak out about my parents' jobs," I shrug. "I felt I owed him."

"For not losing his mind over something cool? Eli, my parents are dentists," Poe complains.

"And my mum's a past French singer. She had one popular song, and yet somehow, everyone found it in freshman year." Noelle shakes her head. "Be glad your parents own a circus."

I shake my head slightly. They don't get it, and honestly, I don't feel like trying to explain. I learned a long time ago that some things just can't be understood unless you've lived it. Bring the child of circus performers is one of those things.

"Have you done a lab this year?" Noelle asks, changing the subject.

I shake my head no.

Poe laughs, then swerves skillfully to avoid a crowd. "Count yourself lucky. Mr. Winstocks science class is the closest I'll ever get to hell on earth. And I go to this school. In a wheelchair."

"I actually kind of like that stuff. Science, I mean. Not the school."

Poe just shakes his head. "You'll see."

We walk into the class, split up. Apparently we're going to be using a signed seating all year. I duck under a paper airplane followed by a balled up piece of paper that bounces off my book bag. A few kids cry out apologies, I ignore them.

I find my seat halfway to the front and take out my book, The Great Gatsby. A surprisingly easy read for a classic.

"Hey," I look over, "I'm Zo."

Sitting across from me is a kid dressed in baggy clothes just like mine. On their shirt is a giant red tag that has the 'My name is' cross out, and instead says 'They/them' Purple and blue hair sticks out from beneath a black Vans hat.

I grin. "Eli."

They point to their name tag. "I'm enby."

I stare blankly. No one had ever been so forward before. I imagine what it would've been like if someone had approached me like this years ago, before I came out. If being trasngender wasn't just something, but something you were allowed to do. I wonder if I would've found who I am sooner, and perhaps saved myself from a great deal of pain.

"Hello?" They say.

"Sorry," I reply. "That's awesome. I'll do my best not to mess up."

They punch me lightly in the shoulder. "Thanks man." They look around. "Looks like I'm your partner for the time being. Sounds good?"

It sounds great. I smile. "Alright."

A teacher walks in. He's a short stubby man with a large beard that looks sort of grey and scratchy.