Alex as Well by Alyssa Brugman Page A

different. You wanted Ty to know you’re different. And it’s like the canary in the coal mine. If he can care about you anyway, even if you’re different, then maybe they can all love you despite the other thing. The ones that matter, anyway.
    Amina. Except she won’t. Everything is black and white for her. It’s like she doesn’t even see the Earl and Lady of Grey. Her brain doesn’t work that way.
    Amina would say it was none of their business. Julia would say, ‘I’m going to ask her,’ and then she would have pulled out her phone while the others protested.She would have held it out of Sierra’s reach. Sierra would have clawed at her arm, laughing. Amina would have been embarrassed and looked the other way.
    ‘Well, is she?’ Sierra asks in the background.
    From the seat opposite Alex nods at me. Because it will make me sound more honest, he argues. Because the truth is that I am into girls.
    ‘Yes, I am,’ I say. ‘Is that a problem?’
    I’m a lesbo.
    There is a pause. ‘I guess not,’ she says.
    When Julia hangs up I sit with my eyes closed waiting for my heart to slow into a steady rhythm. I’m still sweating. I feel like I’ve had three double-shot espressos.
    I’ve lost Julia. She says she doesn’t care but she does. I don’t know about the others, but Julia cares big time. She’s got the whole Catholic thing going on.
    What the hell is this, anyway?
    You’re having an anxiety attack, Alex says.
    Oh, of course. I’ve had these before. I take deep breaths. In through my nose, out through my mouth. When my heart and my temperature finally come down, I send a text to Ty.
    Ur a tool.
    Quick as a flash he texts back.
    So what? Ur still a rockstar.
    Which makes me smile. Lyrics from the Pink song. See? Ty doesn’t care. We could be friends. We are friends. He gets me. Should I write back?
    Alex shakes his head slowly. He looks so sad.
    Why?
    Because Ty’s not your friend. You asked him to keep a secret—a big secret—and he let you down. That’s not what friends do.
    But I knew he wouldn’t keep it.
    That’s not the point. He let you down.
    I think for a moment. Who hasn’t let me down? Everybody lets you down eventually.

22
    AT HOME I don’t want to be with them . I’m not ready to have that conversation yet. I go straight to my room and, inspired by Ty, put on some Pink. I lie on my bed kajinking around the pockets of my jacket. I think about texting Amina, just to find out if we are still friends.
    I tap compose about a million times, and then freeze.
    What are you going to say? Alex asks.
    Not something that could be misunderstood.
    My mother knocks at the door at five-minute intervals to tell me my dinner’s ready. I have told her I’m not hungry. Finally, I whisk the door open and she takes a step back. She has a plate of French toast smothered in maple syrup and powdered sugar.
    She’s holding the plate to the side and looking at me in this weird way, as if I am kind of amusing and manageable only from a distance, but close up, a bit bigger than she was expecting and with potential to be dangerous,like a zoo animal.
    Pink shouts at her from over my shoulder.
    (So what? I’m still a rockstar. I got my rock moves. And I don’t need you.)
    ‘I said I’m not hungry.’
    ‘Why don’t you just try a little bit?’ she asks, trying to hand me the plate, but I don’t want it.
    ‘I’m fine,’ I tell her.
    ‘Take it, or I’m going to drop it,’ she says, holding the plate out at arm’s length.
    ‘Mum,’ I begin.
    ‘Quick, I’m going to let it go.’ The plate wavers in the air for a moment, and then she drops it. I watch it as if it’s in slow motion. It flips in the air, and lands facedown on the carpet.
    ‘Now look what you’ve done!’ she says, shocked and fretful.
    It crosses my mind to say, I told you I didn’t want it. But what’s the point? Instead, I shut the door.
    My mother hammers on it. ‘You’ve hurt my feelings!’ she shrieks. ‘Alex? I made