The Misfits by James Howe

where he invites us to hang out.
    â€œHey, Joey,” Skeezie says as he turns on Joe’s Lava lamp and we settle in on the lime green shag carpet. “Looks like Kelsey’s got quite the thing for you, my man. She was on you like fleas on a dog.”
    â€œWhat?” says Joe.
    â€œNot that you weren’t encouraging it. You kept talkin’ and talkin’ and she kept listenin’ and listenin’ and laughin’ at your dumb jokes.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo she likes you.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œJust makin’ an observation.” Skeezie turns to me. “Sorry, Bobby, ’cause I know you’ve got this major crush on her and all.”
    My cheeks turn the color of the big red glob rising to the top of Joe’s Lava lamp. Do I have a crush on Kelsey? I think maybe I do, but then being around Pam tonight I’m not so sure. I decide that I hate hormones.
    Joe shrugs. “I’m just being nice to her,” he says. “Nobody talks to her because she doesn’t talk back. And my jokes are
not
dumb, for your information. I happen to be a very funny person. Anyway, if Bobby likes Kelsey, he can have her.”
    â€œNice,” I go. “Like she’s a cookie that fell on the floor.”
    â€œI don’t mean it that way,” says Joe. He starts picking at the carpet while Skeezie finds a Koosh ball to toss around.
    â€œWell, what
do
you mean?” Skeezie asks, bouncing the Koosh ball off his knee.
    â€œI mean if Bobby likes Kelsey, he can have her. Hello.”
    â€œI thought you’d be happy she likes you. I thought havin’ a girl like you was supposed to be the key to eternal happiness or somethin’.”
    â€œBoy,” I say, “for somebody who thinks love is a four-letter word, you sure do have it on the brain a lot.”
    â€œJust makin’ conversation,” says the Skeeze.
    â€œWell, here’s a three-letter word to help the conversation along, okay?” Joe says. He stops his picking, which gets Skeezie to stop his bouncing, and they eyeball each other. “G-a-y.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œI’ve told you before, Skeezie. I’m gay.”
    â€œYou said you thought
maybe
you were. I didn’t exactly believe you.”
    â€œWell, now I’m telling you I am.”
    â€œYou don’t
know
that.”
    â€œDon’t tell me what I don’t know. Look around my room, okay? What do you see?”
    Skeezie gives Joe’s room the once-over and starts ticking off what he eyes: books, CDs, computer, tie-dyed butterfly chair with smiley face pillow, big stuffed flamingo on the bed, antique floor lamp with fringedshade, posters of Madonna and Cher and Leonardo DiCaprio in a T-shirt.
    â€œSo?” he says when he’s done taking inventory. “So you’re a little weird. We all are. That’s why we’re friends.”
    â€œThere are different shades of weird, Skeezie. Mine’s pink.”
    â€œLook,” Skeezie says, “I know you’re kind of girly—no offense—but that doesn’t mean you have to like boys.”
    â€œTrue,” says Joe.
    â€œSo how do you know you do?” Skeezie asks.
    â€œHow do you know you like girls?” Joe throws back at him.
    Skeezie laughs. “I
don’t
like girls. I mean, I don’t like girls right now. But I like
lookin’
at them and all. And I guess maybe one day... geez, I don’t know how I know, Joe, I just do. I don’t have to think about it.”
    â€œWell,” says Joe, “that’s how it is with me and boys. I don’t have to think about it.”
    This stops Skeezie cold and he resumes his Koosh ball tossing. I can tell he’s thinking by the way his face is all scrunched up.
    Finally, he says, “What do your mom and dad say about it?”
    Joe shrugs. “I’ve never come right out and told them I’m gay, but I think they know. I mean,