The Boy I Love by Nina de Gramont

lips.
    But instead of kissing me, Tim said, “Wren, can I tell you something?”
    â€œSure,” I said. It surprised me how disappointed I felt. My heart did not want to slow down. Tim pushed off his elbow and lay back down beside me. We went back to watching clouds again, long enough for me to wonder if he’d changed his mind, or fallen asleep.
    Then he said, “Do you promise not to tell anyone?”
    â€œSure,” I said. Tim had come to the right place. I am good at keeping secrets. But I had this sinking feeling that he was going to tell me he liked Allie.
    But that’s not what he said at all. In fact, when he did speak, I couldn’t be sure I heard him right, because it sounded like, “I think I like guys.”
    â€œWhat?” I said.
    â€œI think I like guys,” he repeated. This time he sounded kind of sorry he’d said it.
    â€œWhat do you mean, like them?”
    â€œI think I’m gay. I mean, I know I am.”
    â€œHow do you know?” I asked.
    â€œI just do.”
    Now, this had never crossed my mind in regards to Tim—nothing about him was like what I thought about when I thought about a gay person—and yet it made perfect sense. I can’t say why, exactly. But it was like a window shade being snapped up and letting the light in. Everything just lay out clear before me and fell into its proper place. Which doesn’t at all mean that I wasn’t let down. At the same time I felt kind of flattered, that he would share this big a secret with me.
    I tried to think of what to say next, and asked if there were someone particular he liked, hoping it wouldn’t be Devon.
    â€œNo,” Tim said.
    His voice sounded a tiny bit strained, like maybe he wished he hadn’t said anything. Even though I felt like something truly wonderful had just been snatched away from me, I knew he had told me this as a friend. Because he trusted me, just like he said I could trust him. So I said, “Well, that’s okay, Tim. I’m glad you told me.” I turned my face to look at him, but he kept staring up at the clouds.
    â€œI never told anyone before.” His face looked sad.
    I said, “I’m honored.”
    He turned toward me to see if I was kidding. I stared back at him, trying to look as sincere as I possibly could. This was the first time anyone had told me he was gay, so I didn’t know the etiquette. All of a sudden Tim did what he hadn’t done before: He kissed me. He grabbed my face andkissed me full on the lips, with his mouth closed, and then he kissed me again.
    â€œI knew you would say that,” he said. “I love you, Wren. I truly do.”
    I probably don’t need to tell you that this moment did not match up with my previous fantasies of a first kiss, not to mention the first time a boy telling me he loved me. So I couldn’t help it: I burst out laughing, and after a moment so did Tim. He got to his feet and held out his hand. I took it, and that’s how we walked back down to the house—holding hands, the sun shining all around us.
    *   *   *
    Tim borrowed Dad’s bike, and we rode over to his house at Cutty River Landing. I waved good-bye at the end of his driveway, then pedaled on home. Mom was waiting for me out front to remind me of all the afternoon chores I’d left undone. Dad’s Jeep was gone. So was the horse trailer and, to my surprise, the horse. Never in my life had I known Dad to win an argument like that one. Mom’s face looked red and puffy. I wondered where the horse had gone. I never had to think about that before, what happened to horses that Mom didn’t save, because she always did—save them, that is.
    I didn’t have the heart to complain about anything, just walked out to the barn with her and set right into polishing tack. It was kind of awkward with my bandaged hand, but Mom just watched me without offering to help. She sat