Come out come out, p.22
Come Out, Come Out, page 22
For a second, Devyn only stared at Jaq. Comprehending, but unmoving. Jaq wished she would turn around and go so Jaq could let the scream scraping at her throat claw its way free. Let the tears scour her cheeks and sobs wreck her lungs.
“I’m going to kiss you right now,” Devyn said, shocking a small gasp from Jaq. “I’m going to take three steps and put my hands on your cheeks and kiss you. If you don’t want me to, then stop me. Tell me to leave and I’ll go. Forever. You’ll never see me again.”
Jaq’s breath caught in her throat. A traitorous thrill raced up her spine, dispelling the tension in her lungs. Devyn took one step forward.
“That’s one,” she said, voice soft. “You have two more to decide. No matter what you choose, I’ll respect it. Because I respect you.”
“Devyn,” Jaq whispered as Devyn took another step forward, bringing the distance between them down to mere inches.
Devyn stopped, raising an eyebrow. “You want me to go?”
There was no malice in her. She was open and honest, her question to Jaq bristling with gentle intention. Every word from her mouth was a promise. One that meant Jaq got to choose because Devyn was calling her bluff.
“No,” Jaq whispered, closing her eyes. “I want you to stay.”
A third step and now Devyn was only a breath away. Her nose, her lips, her hips. Jaq breathed in the heady mixture of gasoline and jasmine. The faint hints of leather and lemon. It was too much. It was just enough.
Devyn slipped her hands along Jaq’s jaw, their breath mingling as chills raced from Jaq’s throat to her knees. Then their lips were together, and Jaq was lost.
The kiss was warm and slow, Devyn’s lips soft and so sweet. Jaq melted into her, wanting nothing more than for this moment to extend forever.
The world vanished but for a sweep of light that encased them, shearing away everything else so that it was only Devyn and—
“Jaqueline Marie De Luca!”
Jaq flinched. Jerked away from Devyn’s kiss, a dense ball of dread lodging in her stomach at the sight of a familiar car on the road.
At the sight of her father’s face glaring out from the open window. At the eerie reflection in the rear window: a man with pale skin and a cruel smile standing on the sidewalk next to her.
“Get in the car,” Dad growled.
And in the reflection, the man’s lips moved in sync with her father’s. Silently echoing the command.
Cold sweat slicked down Jaq’s back.
And with a quick glance at Devyn, she got inside the car and closed the door behind her.
Chapter
Thirty
Fern
“Kaitlyn’s looking for you,” Cam said, catching Fern just as they stepped inside the greenroom.
Tonight was opening night, and every square inch of the room was in use. Costumes were strewn over every available surface, cast members were bent over mirrors while they applied their makeup, and the room hummed with nerves and excitement. It was at least twenty degrees warmer inside the classroom than in the hallway because of how many bodies were crammed in, and it was blissfully familiar to Fern. They loved everything about it.
“Do you know where she is?” Fern asked, grabbing their things.
“She’s in the trailer,” Cam answered, then hurried off to address a late-breaking costume crisis that would definitely not be the last of the evening.
Leaving the chaos of the greenroom behind, Fern headed down a darkened hall toward the bathroom the theater kids had dubbed “the trailer” and reserved for the leads to get ready. The tradition predated even Holly’s time in the theater club.
The noise faded into the distance and the air cooled, giving them room to enjoy a sudden, almost overwhelmed swell of love—there wasn’t a better word for it than that. They couldn’t have asked for a better senior-musical experience, and they couldn’t wait to step onto that stage tonight.
They imagined themself standing next to Kaitlyn beneath the red drape of their proscenium; they imagined the audience on their feet, overcome with what they’d just witnessed. And they imagined the moment they saw their mother again and told her who they were. It was so good to picture it all, and soon, it would be a reality.
When they came to the bathroom doors marked with big posterboard signs that each said The Trailer, Fern paused. They could hear Kaitlyn humming along to music piping through her phone. It was from Into the Woods, which was surprising and endearing all at once. She probably had some superstition about not listening to the songs she was going to perform right before a performance.
Fern couldn’t wait to ask. But first, there was something they needed to say.
It was important to Fern that when they stood on that stage as Danny, someone else knew just how much it meant to them. Someone who would hold on to the joy of it with them. They wanted that person to be Kaitlyn.
Their entire body was alight as they knocked, their mind cycling through three opening lines.
You’ve probably guessed this already, but I’m queer.
This is something I haven’t told anyone else yet, but I’m queer.
I’ve been hiding this for a long time, but I’m ready to come out now: I’m queer.
They all felt a little inorganic, and queer wasn’t entirely accurate, but no word was—they were gender-fluid and bisexual or maybe nonbinary and pansexual or maybe something else. At least queer, as a word and an idea, felt big enough to leave room for exploration. A resting place while Fern figured out which words worked better.
Fern’s stomach pitched for five separate reasons when the door opened. Kaitlyn stood there, halfway into her makeup. Her skin was covered by a thick layer of base that perfectly matched her soft brown skin. Lightly blended lines of contour were drawn along her jaw and down either side of her nose, accentuating her feminine features and somehow drawing her kaleidoscope eyes into hyperfocus. The effect was startling. It hit Fern right in the chest, and for a second, all they could do was stare.
“Um,” Fern said, catching their breath. “You look amazing.”
“Thanks,” Kaitlyn said. Fern’s eyes were pulled to Kaitlyn’s lips, the memory of kissing them still near enough to make them shiver.
They wanted to do it again. Kiss Kaitlyn again. But right now, Fern just wanted—no, needed—Kaitlyn to know the truth.
“What’s up?” Kaitlyn asked when Fern still hadn’t moved. “Do you want to come in?”
“Not yet.” Fern cleared their throat. Now that the moment had come and they were sitting inches from Kaitlyn, looking into her kaleidoscope eyes, Fern couldn’t remember any of the lines they’d prepared. “There’s something I need to tell you first.”
They opened their mouth and closed it again. Once, twice. And a third time. “I’m sorry,” they gasped. “I guess I’m nervous.”
“You’ve never been one for stage fright,” Kaitlyn teased, but there was no cruelty in her voice. She reached out and took one of Fern’s hands in hers, the touch thrilling and electric. “Take your time. But also, if this is about the kiss, then you don’t have to say anything you’re not ready to. I mean, I don’t think we should do it again until we do talk about it, just to make sure we’re on the same page, but there’s no rush.”
Warmth flooded Fern’s cheeks, flushing them pink, no doubt. “I understand, and this isn’t about—I mean, I wasn’t going to try and kiss—”
“Oh, I didn’t think that you were!” Kaitlyn hopped closer, squeezing Fern’s hand. “I didn’t mean to suggest that. I just wanted to say it, and sometimes I say too much. I’m kind of a talker. But I just believe it’s important to be super clear. Especially when it comes to things like kissing and feelings. Because the truth is that I like you, Fern. And I don’t want to mess that up.”
A soft ringing filled Fern’s ears, their head growing light as a balloon at the notion that Kaitlyn Birch liked them. That Kaitlyn cared enough about them to be super clear.
Kaitlyn wrinkled her nose at Fern. “And honestly, I’ve admired you forever. You’re talented and brave and prickly in a way that I like. You’re classy. But also, that day at Whisper Falls, I feel like I saw a side of you I’d never seen before. A side I recognize. You were dealing with something really big up there, and you jumped anyway.” Kaitlyn sat back, regarding Fern with kind and admiring eyes. “I want to know that person better. Whenever you’re ready.”
“Oh,” Fern gasped, blinking back tears. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. That was just…”
“Eggplant parmesan.”
That stopped the tears entirely. “What?”
Kaitlyn laughed. “I told you, I’m a talker. And sometimes I overdo it, so my mom told me that I needed to practice using disruptive phrases, that’s what she calls it, to give people a life raft, if that makes any sense.”
“It does,” Fern said slowly. “I don’t know how, but that eggplant parmesan is holding me together right now. Which is extra weird because I’m allergic to eggplant.”
“Oh, I am very allergic to eggplant,” Kaitlyn deadpanned. “Literally and metaphorically.”
Fern snorted and then they were both laughing too hard to talk.
When they could breathe again, Fern felt ready to say what it was they’d come to say. This time, it was Fern who reached for Kaitlyn’s hand.
“The thing I wanted to tell you is that I’ve been figuring a lot of things out recently, and I like you, but that’s not what this is about. I’m not telling you this because I expect anything of you; I just want you to know. Since we’re being super clear.”
Now that they’d started, the words were flowing. That had everything to do with Kaitlyn. She made this so easy.
“You know I love being super clear.” Kaitlyn’s smile was beaming.
“Exactly, which is why I want to tell you,” Fern said, swept up in Kaitlyn’s kindness. In how easy it was to be here with her. To tell her, “I’m definitely, one hundred percent, straight.”
The smile vanished from Kaitlyn’s face. She pulled away.
Fern blinked, and felt their whole face go hot.
“Wait! No! That’s not what I meant to say, oh my god.” They waved their hands as though they could erase it all. “I meant to say, I’m not queer.”
What the fuck.
Kaitlyn’s expression didn’t change. The hallway was suddenly too cold, all the warmth of their laughter drained away.
Fern felt like they were standing in cold acid rain. They snapped their mouth shut so hard their teeth clicked.
“Oh. Kay,” Kaitlyn said, stepping back. Physically distancing herself from Fern.
“No, I mean, I’m—” Fern stopped. This time they could feel the way their mouth was prepared to move of its own accord. How their body would betray them if they pushed it again.
Something was happening to them. And they weren’t in control.
“I’m—” They stopped again, clapped their hands over their mouth.
“You know what?” Kaitlyn said, backing away. “Don’t bother.”
“Kaitlyn, wait. Please, I don’t—I mean, that isn’t—” Fern willed Kaitlyn to see the desperation in their eyes. Willed Kaitlyn to understand what Fern had intended to say over the horrible things they’d actually said. Hear the jewels instead of the rot and worms that fell out of their mouth every time.
But Kaitlyn’s eyes were hard and unforgiving. Holding Fern at an oppressive distance.
The weight of that glare made Fern step back.
“Have you been fucking with me this whole time?” she asked, voice low. “I didn’t think you were like this, Fern. I thought you were—” Kaitlyn choked on the word, and for just a second, tears glimmered in her eyes. They vanished just as quickly. Replaced by a burning anger. “Was it all a lie? Were you leading me on to get me to switch roles with you? So you could have Danny? Have you been fucking with me this entire time?”
Tears squeezed in Fern’s throat.
No, they thought.
“Yes,” they said.
Like someone had possessed them. A frozen hand around their neck, their ankle.
Kaitlyn nodded as though seeing Fern clearly for the first time. “What the actual fuck?”
The world was spinning beneath Fern’s feet. They shook their head, but didn’t dare open their mouth again. Terrified of what would come out.
Kaitlyn was staring at them. Waiting. Her expression hurt and bewildered.
Fern understood, wanted so badly to explain that none of those words had been theirs, but they could feel the specter of a hand at their throat. Squeezing their words into the wrong shapes. If they tried again, they knew it would only get worse. They’d rather bite off their own tongue.
Finally, Kaitlyn had had enough of silence.
“Anything else to add?” Kaitlyn threw a hand up between them. “You know what? You’ve said enough already. I don’t want to hear anymore. If this is how you feel, then you should just back out of the show tonight.”
“Wh-what?” Fern almost choked.
Surely Kaitlyn hadn’t meant that. This was the senior musical. And while that alone made it an important moment in their life, over the past few days, it had become so much more than a single show. It had become a part of who they were. The show itself had become a touchstone for Fern. They couldn’t just not perform. This was how they were going to show their mother, their sisters, and their friends who they really were.
“You’re a monster. I’m not going on with you tonight. So either you back out or I will.”
A faint humming started in Fern’s ears. A quiet siren that blotted out the silence of the hallway.
They understood what Kaitlyn was offering them. It was a choice, except that it wasn’t. Not really. Either they ignored Kaitlyn’s feelings and took the stage as Danny or they demonstrated how sorry they were and stepped aside. Let someone else take their place instead.
There was only one real answer. One right thing to do.
But Fern didn’t want to do it.
“So?” Kaitlyn folded her arms against her chest.
“I—” Fern swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay, what? Okay, you’re going on? Or okay, you’ll back out?”
“I’ll—” Fern snapped their mouth shut, terrified that they would say the wrong thing. Make this all even worse. But Kaitlyn was waiting, and every second that passed made Fern look like even more of a dick that they already did.
“Break a leg,” they managed, then they turned and hurried down the hall, not even picking a direction, just moving as fast as they could until they were sure they’d put enough distance between them and Kaitlyn.
When they stopped, they were somewhere near the gym. Far from the theater and Kaitlyn and their mom and sisters.
No one would look for them here because no one would look for anyone here, so they picked a spot and sank to the floor with their back pressed against the wall. The tears came at once. Unleashed and rushing as though someone had turned on a spigot.
It had been the right choice, but it wasn’t fair. And for a long minute, Fern let themself feel the depth of that pain. They hadn’t intended any of this. That it had happened anyway was a kind of violence they couldn’t explain. That it might keep happening was too horrible to think about right now.
Their phone buzzed in their pocket with a message from Ms. Murphy checking in to see if they were okay. Fern started to respond, then stopped. They couldn’t risk undoing what they’d already set in motion, and they didn’t trust that anything they tried to say or type would come out the way they intended, and the last thing they needed right now was to tell Ms. Murphy that they were on their way. Which meant they would have to let Ms. Murphy believe not only that they’d abandoned the show, but that they weren’t even brave enough to say so.
They silenced their phone and tucked their head into their knees while the tears soaked into their pants. Only when they heard the distant strains of music echoing down the hall did they raise their head again.
The show had started.
Slowly, Fern stood up and headed down the hall, back toward the theater. Avoiding the greenroom, they took the long way to the backstage door no one ever used and slipped inside.
They watched from the wings as Kaitlyn as Danny and Teagan, the Sandy understudy, sang and danced and won the hearts of the entire audience. Teagan was good, but Kaitlyn was effervescent in a way that made Fern at once so happy for her and so tremendously sad.
If anyone noticed them, they didn’t say anything. And when it was time for the scene at the drive-in, Fern had to leave.
Their thoughts tangled around all they’d lost in the span of a few moments.
Except it had been more than a few moments.
This entire thing had been set in motion five years ago. When they’d all sought shelter in the woods. When they’d asked the Patron for help. And he’d taken so much more.
He was still taking things from them. Still trying to force them into the kind of shape he found palatable. And if Fern didn’t do something about it, then they might spend the rest of their life a prisoner in their own body. Unable to say or express the things they most needed to. Alienating the people they cared most about.
Jaq was right. There was only one way to stop it.
As muffled applause sounded from inside the theater, Fern pulled out their phone. Cleared the five notifications from Ms. Murphy and twice as many from Cambria. Ignored the three missed calls from their mom and collection of texts from their sisters, and opened a text to Jaq:
Okay. Let’s do this. Tonight.
Then they shoved their phone in their pocket set out toward the woods.
Chapter
Thirty-One
Jaq
Seated in the back of her parents’ car, fear bloomed inside of Jaq. Surging up from her guts with such force she could only clench her teeth against it.
