James Sie - All Kinds of Other

The words just wont come out.

I mean, Im not much of a talker to begin with, but still. Its not like I dont know what I want to say. Guess what, guys, Im gay. Easy. I can actually feel the words crowding around inside my mouth, pushing against my teeth, waiting to be released. When Dhyllin invited Gregg and me over for an end-of-the-summer hang, I was hoping to introduce them to this new-and-improved Jules, out and proud. Id erase the memory of my pathetic coming out to my mother in the front seat of the family Subaru and replace it with something better, cooler. Reboot the second year of my high school life.

But I cant. Partly its because Im worried what theyre gonna think and partly, its that Dhyllin just wont shut up. Yes, we all know Dhyllin has an exciting life, the best life, anyone would kill for a concert promoter father with a Hollywood Hills mansion, but if he doesnt stop talking about traveling this summer with Smash Mouth on their official 2015 tour, Im seriously going to need to drink bleach.

I thought Lisbon was wild, but Im telling you, Jules, when we hit Amsterdam, that place was off the chain....

I mean, how was my news going to compare to that? Coming out just doesnt measure up to groupies in Berlin and private jets. Not these days. But if I cant tell friends Ive known for years, how am I going to tell strangers? Maybe strangers would be easier. There wouldnt be so much on the line, so many expectations

Earth to Jules, hello.

I jolt back to the present, start dribbling the basketball again. What did you say? I ask, trying to cover, but Dhyllins already given up on me and is checking out his Snapchat feed. Greggs playing on his phone, as usual. No ones talking. Itd be the perfect moment. Each bounce of the ball leaving my hands is like a command: Tell them. Tell them. But I cant. Its tricky with Dhyllin. Not that he would punch me or call me out or anything like that. No, hed just look at me with those sleepy blue eyes and say something casually sarcastic like, Well, that was no mystery, or That explains a lotwhich would somehow be just as bad.

Without looking up, Dhyllin asks, Are we going to keep shooting hoops or do you guys want to play Xbox?

Gregg finally disconnects from his phone. Hell YES Xbox.

Jules?

Ive never really been that into gaming. But everyone else is, so I shrug. Whatever is cool with me.

Dhyllin doesnt move, though, and inertia sets in. We keep shooting hoops on the blue acrylic of Dhyllins dads basketball court. Well, I keep shooting hoops. Greggs camped out just outside the key, dodging any ball that falls near him and smashing aliens on his phone, his straight black hair covering most of his face as he bends his head down. Dhyllins off to the other side, texting, wearing some fresh Yeezy Boosts that look like they just came out of the box. I dribble and shoot around both of them, a moon orbiting two fixed planets in a sky-blue space.

We havent been in the same school together since fifth grade. We mostly see each other during the summer, old habits. I wonder if we have anything in common at all anymore.

Dhyllin looks up suddenly and squints at me, blond hair flopped over one eye. Youre not going to like Earl Warren High, he tells me.

How would you know? I say, pretending to throw the ball at him. He doesnt even flinch. Why?

Its public, Dhyllin says, as if that explains everything.

And... ?

Youre not used to that. Its a huge school. And coming in sophomore year? Youll be lost. He says this like hes really concerned, like he didnt spend the whole last year icing me out while he spent time with his new posse at Beckman Prep. Dhyllin lowers his voice. And there are gangs there. Theyre gonna eat you alive.

You dont know that, I say, but really, Dhyllins the kind of kid who does know things. Hes always picking up adult frequencies, decoding them, and translating the data for the rest of us. Ill be fine, I say, trying to sound like I mean it. Look, Gregg goes there, and he hasnt been jumped.

Dhyllin smirks. Thats because theyre afraid hes going to use karate on them.

Gregg gives him a fast middle finger without even stopping his game. Karates Japanese, dickwad. Get your racial stereotypes right.

What about the gangs? I ask.

Gregg shrugs. I dont know. I dont think so. His head slumps back to his phone.

Yeah, whatever. Dhyllin flips his blond hair off his eyes. Hes recently had a growth spurt; well, his head has, anyway. It looks huge, square and man-shaped on his teenage boys body, the opposite of me, whose legs and arms seem to have beanstalked overnight. Funny thing thoughDhyllin, even out of proportion and with that one red pimple cluster blotching his forehead, still has the superpower of making you feel like hes the coolest kid in the room. Hes still the magnet that draws in all us rusty nails.

You should come to Beckman Prep. Good basketball team, he says. Beckman Prep is, naturally, the most exclusive private high school in the Valley. If it were up to my dad, I would have gone to Beckman my freshman year, but the decision was most definitely not up to him.