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“I swear, most people think we’re either lying about being attracted to multiple genders, or that we must beso attracted to literally everyonethat we need to make out with every human on thisearth, immediately, damn it!”

Finn slammed his hands on the table, causing Brooke and me, along with a few other members, to jump. He straightened in his seat, looking grave. “Darcy.”

“Yes?”

He grinned. “You’re queer.”

Ray nodded. “You’re queer.”

Brooke looked between us, her lips trembling. “You’re queer, Darcy.”

I loved her so much. I might not beinlove with her anymore, but I loved her. Was this an olive branch? Did we talk again, now? I would do anything,anything,for that.

“You’re queer,” Alexei echoed.

“You’re queer.” Jason.

“You’re queer.” Jaz and Mr. Elliot in unison. Erica whispered it alongside them in a voice too quiet to hear.

“You’re queer!” Lily shouted, rising in her seat for emphasis.

I was not going to cry. I was not going to cry. I was—

“Even if I’m with a straight guy?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck yes.”

“Always.”

Instead of tears, giggles came out. Happy, giddy giggles. And the others joined me.

For the first time, the very very first time, I really believed them. That my relationship status did not change me. And that even if other people didn’t agree, every single person in this room had my back without hesitation. I was with them and they were with me and we were with each other. A community within a community within a community. No questions asked. No proof needed. No valid form of identification required.

We just belonged because we belonged.

After the club meeting, everyone had dispersed, and Brooke hadn’t hung back to say anything to me. Apparently today’s baby step had been just that. A baby step, not a reconciliation. Ray, at least, had paused to offer me a smile across the room before she left. We hadn’t had a friendship to recover in the first place, but it definitely seemed like we’d reached some sort of truce.

Still, neither of them even looked at each other. Which gave me the feeling they wanted to. If you were nonchalant about someone, you didn’t put so much energy into ignoring them.

I texted Brougham to meet me by the locker after school before he started his laps. We stood against the wall, out of the path of the last student stragglers leaving for the afternoon, and I summarized my day. Not all of it, of course—I left out the stuff about me feeling like my crush on him had somehow excluded me from my own identity. Even if I was starting to realize that fear had played a part in my reaction when we’d kissed, it wasn’t relevant information for him. Not now that he was back with Winona.

But I did tell him about my text to Brooke. And her support today. It was nice to be able to share all of this with Brougham. He gave me his full attention while I spoke, narrowing his eyes in concentration, and “oh”-ing at all the appropriate moments. One-on-one like this, it felt like the two of us up against everyone else. I worked to remind myself that this wasn’t the case, though. It wasn’t just the two of us. He had a girlfriend. I was his friend, and that was all.

“Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” I finished.

Brougham barked an unexpected, rare laugh. “‘Dear locker eighty-nine,’” he joked.

I groaned. “I know, I know. But I’m too involved. I can’t trust that my perspective is unbiased here.”

“Look. You can’t erase what you did,” Brougham said. “It’s done now. But maybe you could try to patch things up?”

“But how am I supposed to do that?”

“… Are you serious? Have you not been telling people how to patch shit up for two solid years now, or was that a fever dream of mine?”