I stand watching Max, trying to figure out what to do. Eventually, I drift over into the living room and sink down into the couch next to him. He glances over, frowning, but says nothing when I flip on the TV, navigate to Netflix, and put on our favorite movie, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles live action film from the nineties. It’s campy, silly, goofy fun, and it’s just the sort of thing he needs right now.
He glances up and frowns. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Luring me out.”
“Is it working?”
“A little bit.”
I laugh and move closer. “Want me to order pizza?”
“Yeah, actually, I really do.”
“You got it.” I hesitate and turn the volume down. “But why don’t you tell me what happened first.”
“It was stupid,” he mumbles, staring at his phone and avoiding my glance. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Come on, Max. I’m not Dad. I’m not Mom. I’m not going to give you shit, I just want to actually help you, and I can’t do that if you won’t tell me what’s going on. Please.”
That makes him smile slightly. “Dad would use it as an excuse to lecture me on why I’m never going to be as smart as he is. Mom would say something like, ‘Oh, sweetie, that’s so sad for you,’ then drift away and sit out back by the pool for the rest of the day. Meanwhile, I’m left to fend for myself.”
“That’s why you’re here. To escape from Dad’s lectures and Mom’s apathy.”
He laughs and shifts his weight so he’s sitting on his feet. “It was just a stupid thing, okay? There’s this guy I have gym with and he’s a fucking asshole, just this like fascist, shaved head, Nazi douchebag, you know what I mean? He’s always such a prick—”
“Has he bothered you before?”
Max shrugs. “Yeah, a little. Me and a few of the others.”
“Otherwhat?”
“Blair.” He looks uncomfortable. “You know. The other gay kids.”
I smile slightly. I’ve known for a while, but we’ve never actually spoken about it—I figured it’s his business and he can come to me when he’s ready. That’s the first time he’s actually admitted he’s gay to me, and a strange little bloom of pride spreads in my chest. I’m happy he’s beginning to trust me enough to talk about who he is.
“What did he say to you?”
He turns slightly red with anger. “This guy’s just a total homophobe prick and today I got sick of it. I told him he’s probably just working through some complicated gay feelings of his own and he didn’t appreciate that analysis, so he punched me in the face, and I just lost it.”
“Oh, Max.”
“He called me theFword. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” I sigh and rub my temples. No wonder Max got in a fight—I’m proud of him for standing up to a bully like that. “Is that his blood on your shirt?”
He looks down at himself and recoils. “Oh, god, I didn’t know that was there.” He jumps up and rips the shirt off, looking like he wants to burn it.
“Throw it away. I’ll buy you a new one.”
He runs into the kitchen, jams it into the garbage, and grabs a clean shirt from the laundry. When he comes back, he looks slightly more composed.
“Yes, that was his blood,” he says, sitting back down with his chin in the air. “Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I can’t punch an asshole in the face.”
“Good for you,” I say with a smile but quickly stop grinning. “Although you know you’re not supposed to fight, right?”
“I know, but—”