He-Slut: A Memoir

By Alyson DeYoung

What is marriage without true love? What is sex without respect? If an independent woman falls in the woods, will misogynists hear it at the farthest distance?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483551098

Book preview

gift."

Prologue

In a way, we were a family. By the time we moved in together, we had known each other for years, although none of us were really adults yet, really. I didn’t fit- I was years younger than the rest, and not only the girl of the group, but the girlfriend. Josh and I had gotten engaged eleven months before.

I was still hoping then that some big music whoever would come across Jan and make him someone important. Perhaps not even music, as Jan is also a talented actor. He’s always been pretending something. Maybe everyone does. In any case, he was the quirky nerd of the house, although none of us were as average as apple pie on the Fourth of July. There still is nobody like him at all.

Eric changed very little over the years. He was twenty when I met him, and he always pretty much stayed the same. I think if he reached any maturity at all, it was only enough to fulfill what was expected of him. The things he loved didn’t change over time- laying around and listening to music, pot, partying, and generally having fun. When we moved in to the house on Briggs Boulevard, he had been working the same dead-end job for a while, and would continue to.

Josh was as motivated as Eric wasn’t. He graduated college in four years, and proposed to me shortly before the second semester of his senior year. He had big dreams, and I loved him. He sparkled like diamonds. Of course, things were getting tougher every minute. He had graduated in an obscure field, just after the World Trade Towers fell. But even though nobody needed a facilities manager, whatever that really is, this fact was not getting him down yet.

I was dissatisfied with the entire living arrangement. The house was falling apart, and I couldn’t keep it clean. None of it was ever my mess, anyway. By agreeing to move in with Josh’s best friend, I hadn’t known I was signing up to be the not-so-proud mother of three grown men. More often than not, we had a fifth roommate and were joined by a gaggle of secondary roommates- people who didn’t live there, but constantly spent their time on our couches. All of this was in addition to planning a wedding, going to school, working on our bi-weekly paper, and a part-time job.

I complained. I cajoled. I argued. In the minds of, at minimum, three man-children, I was the queen bitch. And as I picked dirty socks off of the couch just so I could sit down, I never could have imagined that less than five years after we moved in, I would be back at that house, threatening my marriage with my former roommate.

Chapter One: Under the blankets, only we existed.

I grew up no place in particular. My mother rented wherever she went, and she moved frequently. My father left when I was two months old, and I didn’t see him again until I was fifteen. After he went away, my mother had three husbands for the remainder of my years with her. What I learned from her life was that I wanted something stable, something real.

My shift to Grand Rapids was at the start of 1999, and the fifteenth time I had moved, without having yet reached my sixteenth birthday. I’d transitioned back in with my mother, having gotten the chance to catch up with my father. In school, I was perpetually the new girl, making sympathy friends wherever I went.

One such friend was Sarah. She knew everyone, and prided herself on having as many people call her a friend as possible. She liked networking, sometimes at thoroughly mundane functions. When Sarah invited me to Campus Life, a Christian students’ weekly get together sponsored by the school, I was compelled to accept. More friends couldn’t be a bad thing, even ones I wasn’t necessarily compatible with.

One afternoon, Sarah and I sat and talked in our math class. Mr. P had his back turned, doing some algebra on the chalkboard. My eyes had glazed over. Thankfully, Sarah had a distraction, since I wasn’t going to get a good grade in that class, anyway.

Sara! I put my hand to my mouth in a teenage girl gesture, rare for me. Brothers! Are they cute?

I think so! Her eyes widened. Well, you’ll meet Jan tonight at Campus Life-I don’t know, maybe Ty will be there, too.

So, what happened with them, then? You dated them both and want one back or something?

I don’t know what happened with Ty, Sarah sighed. I thought it wasn’t going to work out. But I was wrong, Alyson! I see that now.

Right.

I couldn’t help but sound noncommittal. We were in high school. Why did she need to make a declaration of affection, or possibly love, for Ty? It wasn’t necessary. She wouldn’t even remember him in twenty years. Sarah paused for a moment, as if waiting for me to be more reassuring. When that didn’t happen, she continued.

With Jan- he acted distant. Like he wasn’t there, you know? So it came down to one night when we were on the phone. It was like he had broken up with me already but hadn’t said so! I asked him if he wanted to break up, and he said he didn’t know. He wasn’t giving me anything! So, I had to end it.

This would classically be known after that, at least to me, as pulling a Jan. Meeting Sarah herself is a little blurry in my mind now, but I do still remember meeting Jan the following week. It was a warm February in Michigan, but I had recently returned from my father’s house in Nevada, so I had to take everyone’s word for it that the weather was good. I sat on the floor in someone’s living room, warming up, surrounded by many people I had never met before but would come to recognize in the next couple of years. It was strange to see so many high school students at a religious function. Maybe it was me- but no, I had gone to three other high schools, after all. This wasn’t a typical high school activity. The group was lead by a girl who acted as though she was part of the senior class, but had to be at least twenty-one, if not more like twenty-five. My back was to the door, and Sarah sat facing me, waiting ecstatically for Jan to come in.

There he is! Jan! Sarah never failed to get attention from whomever she wished.

I turned, and Jan regarded me with the funny look of someone curious, and covering up that curiosity with an unassumingly nice stance. Even so, it was obvious to me that he was an analyzer, as I am. Nice is a mask Jan likes to wear as he quietly decides whether he hates everything about another person or not.

I think Jan likes you. Sarah said this to me some weeks later, also with a funny look on her face.

A funny look, as I use it here, is that kind where something is given away behind whatever facade someone wants to put out there. The funny part to me is when I don’t understand exactly what that something is. I wasn’t sure what she was thinking or hoping I would say to this. I shrugged my shoulders.

Yeah. Jan’s pretty great. Cool guy.

No… Sarah glanced at me so intensely that it was almost a glare, but after a second she looked away. "I think he likes you."

Oh. Why?

I sat back, thinking the situation over. Sarah had dated Jan. Maybe that was what she wasn’t saying. That she still liked him. I watched her face as I spoke.

Well. I paused, then continued. Is that an issue for you?

She glanced at me. No! What? Why would that be an issue?

You went out with him.

I don’t still like him like that or anything. That’s over.

Okay, but still it might be weird for me to-

No. Not- No.

Her adamant denial only convinced me more that she did care, and it irritated me that she wouldn’t admit it. She wasn’t leaving herself any room to accept her crush on Jan at all, obviously waiting for me to say that I wasn’t interested, and it was possible she also wanted me to throw in that there was no way I could ever be interested. But, was that true? No, not really. What Jan lacked in looks he more than made up for in my often most prized personality trait in another human being- uniqueness. And he did seem nice, like somebody who would put himself out there to help another. Really, it could go either way. We could stay friends, and that would be fine, but I wouldn’t be opposed to a minor relationship, either. It wasn’t as though we were going to get married, buy a house on a farm, breed horses and have six children, the oldest of which, either gender, inheriting the name Jan. I was only just turning sixteen, after all. Who meets the man of her dreams at that age?

It was settled, then. I looked back at Sarah, who leaned forward in nervous anticipation. If she wasn’t going to admit to anything, I wasn’t going to give her a break.

So? She prompted.

Like I said, Jan’s pretty cool. If he asked me, I might give it a shot.

What? She sat back, looking startled. Ah. Well. Maybe I will tell him that, then.

I shrugged again for added emphasis, just to let her know that if at any time she wanted to jump in and tell me about her raging love for Jan, I would be fine with it. I would more than let her have him. Why not? They were both endearingly quirky people, and I was already fond of them both. I liked watching them interact. They seemed like a good duo, Sarah pushing Jan around with her manically sunny personality, and Jan being so clearly irritated by it but never saying anything.

He never mentioned anything to me about it. In May, I started dating someone I went to school with, one of those boys who thought studying was beneath him and wasn’t at all opposed to blowing it off because he was sure he would get good grades without doing the homework. At the very least, it could be said that he wasn’t interested in studying, since he did well on the tests anyway- or he said he did, and I never questioned it. If he so strongly insisted that he was very intelligent, I had no reason to object. He was good-looking, and I was sixteen.

Around that time, Sarah started dating Andrew, and gushing over him. How he had his head on straight. How he was from a good family. How he was two years younger than she, and therefore untainted. A freshman. How he was way better than some of the, most of the, boys she had dated.

How he was painfully shy. Isn’t that cute?

She mentioned his parents, how they were nice to her, and how they made small gestures like taking her out to dinner. She described a picturesque situation. She spoke in a rose-colored, serene way. Sarah blathered on about something perfect Andrew said, which to me sounded not perfect at all, but mentally challenged.

As far as my home life went, I was anxious to get a job. My mother could do anything to me in my vulnerable position, from kicking me out on the street to leaving me no choice but to run away, slowly, since I had no car. But money would be good. Responsible. In decent preparation for whatever it was my life had to become when I reached legal adulthood.

And so, my first job was at a Taco Bell down the street. I walked there, unless it was raining, of course. Then my mother usually gave me a ride, or somebody else would give me a ride, or something along those lines.

It was a relatively miserable time. In part that was because I kept to myself, bored with what my co-workers were doing with their down time. It was also them, though. I found most of them to be immature and full of themselves. There was the morbidly obese boy who thought very little of most people he ran in to, the completely spiteful one who hated everything, the angry female manager, the swellheaded girl everybody kept calling really nice, her obnoxious friend who would not stop talking. The list went on. There were people who worked there I liked, but they were relatively quiet themselves, at least in comparison to the others.

I did like both of the managers named Matt. They were very different people. One was relatively mild mannered, and as I recall, on the short side. He was that kind of person who was laid-back and cool-headed. The only thing I didn’t understand about him was that he was involved in an ambiguous relationship with the angry female manager.

The other Matt was very tall, one of the few people I’ve had to tilt my head up to for the sake of making eye contact. But that’s not all. He could also be described as long limbed, like the old Stretch Armstrong toys. His personality only enhanced this quality. Goofy is generally a good way to describe it, although I wouldn’t say he was as kind as goofy implies. In fact, for all of the smiling and jumping around, he seemed annoyed by a lot going on, if not irate.

I grabbed the box of tomatoes, setting it on the counter space. It was a busy afternoon. All I can remember clearly is that Chihuahua. That thing was everywhere, all it wanted was Taco Bell, and everyone who came in wanted a piece of it. Part of the Jar Jar Binks/Star Wars thing we had going on, it was pandemonium.

Where are Matt and Angie? Tall Matt stomped around, his long arms flailing as he went. How long does it take to get some boxes? They need to start fucking on their own time!

The man at my register stood with his child, pursing his lips.

Did you want to make that a Supreme? I asked.

No, he replied. That’s okay.

After it finally died down, I went to the back for something and saw Swellheaded talking to Obnoxious as they did the dishes.

He did something kind of weird during sex the other day. Obnoxious was laughing.

I rolled my eyes. More talking. She never stopped.

What do you mean? Swellheaded asked.

We were having sex, right? She began.

Okay.

So he suddenly flips me over and puts it in my butt! Her voice broke, and I thought she was going to cry, but instead she pushed out a loud, unconvincing laugh.

Your… Swellheaded trailed off, sounding mystified.

I was like, oh, that’s my anus! I mean, that was like, the first time I’d ever done anything like that.

Swellheaded laughed uncomfortably. Could she not hear what Obnoxious was saying? Was she unable to tell how sad the girl was? I tried to hurry with what I was doing, and then I walked back up toward the front. I paused briefly, still processing it.

Gross. Sad. Gross.

Matt stomped out of the freezer. Where are those tomatoes? Did they bring the tomatoes? What the-

On the counter. I pointed at the box.

Who left these tomatoes on the counter? He called out.

"Oh," I realized, unsure of what to say for myself.

How long ago?

I pressed my lips together and hung my head, ready for the tongue-lashing I deserved. I felt my eyes brim and sting with tears.

Oh, no. He flung his hands out in a stop gesture. No, no. It’s okay. Hey, if you don’t tell anybody, I won’t tell anybody. Just put the tomatoes in the freezer next time, okay?

I smiled and nodded.

Okay. Good. He walked back in to the freezer, the box in his hands.

The city of Grand Rapids holds a summer festival every Wednesday called Blues on the Mall. A street downtown closes for the evening, and everyone enjoys the weather while listening to the blues. I was about to attend my very first that day in what was probably the month of June. Sarah and I stood in her bathroom as she primped.

This guy Eric’s going tonight, too. Sarah made a face in the mirror as she looked at me.

And that is bad. I gave one affirmative nod.

I don’t want things to be weird! Sarah exclaimed, I gave him head, and he never called me.

I took a bite of the chocolate chip cookie I was eating. I typically liked grazing on something. I was also feeling somewhat nervous about being around a lot of new people. I wasn’t sure why Sarah would feel weird about someone who never called her, unless she wanted to date him. I felt my shoulders shift in to a shrug as I considered what to say.

That’s too bad, I finally admonished as I chewed.

Yeah, well, Sarah turned back to the mirror, looking at herself as though she were forty years old, instead of sixteen. It’s not like I was asking to be his girlfriend. I thought we could be friends.

Just don’t say anything to him, I said as I looked at her, unless you have to. Keep your distance. Yeah?

I doubt Sarah held to this for the whole time. But she did well enough when we all picked Eric up in Jan’s crowded van. Who were all those people in that old, clunking van? It’s a dim memory. Jan was driving, and somebody sat next to him in the front seat. Sarah and I, and somebody else, sat on the longer bench seat behind another bench seat. Dare I say there were people behind us, on the floor in the hatch? Maybe.

In this van that was more like a bus, somebody climbed in, sitting just ahead of Sarah and I. I don’t think he even said anything to Jan, with the possible exception of a grunt. No introductions, no friendly banter. I felt the desperate need again to escape high school. And then, we were pulling out of the driveway.

I glanced at Sarah. Was this not where we were supposed to pick up this boy she was so tense about? Only one person had gotten in. I had seen some of the guys Sarah had gotten tangled up with before. This person didn’t match up with the rest. He was… the difference was… the best word would be… attractive. Yes. This one was attractive. Sarah looked back at me with sad eyes.

See? Her face said, He doesn’t even say hello.

I nodded my head toward his back. This one?

She rolled her eyes at me and nodded emphatically.

Are you sure?

Yes!

I smiled and winked. She looked blankly at me, lost. And then, she seemed to feel a little better, for just a minute. I gave her a small thumbs-up sign.

And then she sighed, turning her attention to the floor. I sat back in my seat. I had done my best, but it wasn’t like I could get him to talk to her.

Nothing kept Sarah down for long. Some days later, I met her new boyfriend, the perfect one with nice parents. He was pale and blond, with flat blue eyes. Andrew, even for a freshman in high school, was scrawny, or perhaps reedy would be kinder. He had a naturally stern look about him. Sunny, bold Sarah seemed pretty smitten.

She had brought him along that day while Sarah and I met with Nina, another girl in our choir class. We had to sing a song at the end of the semester, and any given student could do it alone, but rarely did that happen. The three of us were doing one song by Lisa Loeb. Jan was there, too, because even though he graduated from our high school a couple years before, he was going to play the guitar. I knew our choir teacher would like that, because she had a soft spot for him, like most people.

We only spent some of the day practicing. Much of the rest of our time was idle. We sat. After leaving Nina’s, we ate. We laid in the grass outside. There was other laziness involved, and then we took Andrew home.

This was the first time I had ever met Andrew, and it was also the first time in my recollection that he and Jan had spent much time together. This was a day of firsts, since the two would become inseparable. Within a couple years, they would be called Jandrew. By the time I was in college, suspicion of their possible homosexuality would be standard. Then, their friendship would mostly surpass the name blending moniker, though I still hear it every now and then. Eventually, people decided for themselves whether Jan and Andrew were gay or not. Each subsequent circle of friends Jan would go through got less and less suspicious, since at least one of the two always seemed to have a girlfriend out of each grouping.

They get along really well, I said to Sarah. Jan gets him to talk. He says more to Jan than he says to you. Andrew’s probably pretty grateful you introduced them. It seems like they’re going to be friends.

I didn’t introduce them, Sarah explained. Jan went to school with Andrew’s older brother.

On that day we dropped him off, I found myself expecting Andrew’s house to be as dilapidated as Jan’s, or as obviously hippie-run as Sarah’s, but it wasn’t. We pulled up to a ranch-style house on a small private drive, tucked in a corner, with a substantial yard and gardenia bushes, sitting in dappled shade. This was the first of many times I would see the house. I was so surprised that this boy, who ceased entirely to interest me, lived there. It seemed like a relatively special place to me, even though it was only a middle-class, ranch-style home.

Bye! Sarah leaned over to Andrew for a kiss as he dashed out of the truck.

Bye, he mumbled, slamming the door in her face and walking away.

Becki and I sat in my room, waiting for our boyfriends to show up.

It was later that month. I’d introduced Jan to my best friend, and she’d had to date him. Becki was very excitable over the opposite sex back then. The future would bring her, as I’m sure it brings most women, lessons in men which would cool her down considerably, but for this moment in time, her outlook was mostly effervescent and fresh.

Jan had talked to Becki earlier that day, saying he was going to bring a friend over. My boyfriend hadn’t called all day. He was probably hiding in the wooded area behind his house, getting stoned with some of the people we went to school with, but honestly, this was an improvement over the last one. I had already been cursed in my youth with bad boyfriends. My outlook was not fresh or even entirely innocent, but jaded and a little hopeless. I was even bitter, for a virgin.

Yeah, Kitty told me never to meet this guy because he really likes redheads, I told Becki.

She chuckled. "Well he’s going to love you, sweetie."

The buzzer to the apartment rang from downstairs. Becki and I froze.

Which one do you think it is? Becki whispered.

I gave an exasperated sigh. I would like it to be Jacob, but it’s probably Jan.

Becki squealed with delight, jumped off of my bed, and ran downstairs. I sat for a second before running after her, scowling.

I wish my boyfriend were here! I called after her in angst.

Who is it? Becki asked the intercom.

Jan, came the meek, simple reply.

Knowing Jan now, he had to have been wondering who else she was thinking it would be. He probably stood at the door downstairs in complete irritation, not wanting to confess that it was he, but knowing in the end that he had no choice. Becki buzzed him up, and she even answered my door.

How was the gym? She wrapped her arms around Jan’s neck.

Fine, he said, uncomfortable and subtly trying to pull away. This is Josh, by the way. Josh, this is my girlfriend, Becki. And this is Aly.

A blond boy who had shaggy, blond surfer hair stepped out from behind Jan in the doorway. He walked past Becki to me and shook my hand. I believe it had been months since I had experienced a handshake.

How nice.

Hi. Aly? Hi. Josh smiled, and his eyes sparkled. Nice to meet you.

And this is Becki, Jan mentioned again.

Oh. Josh looked surprised to find other people still in the room. Nice to meet you, too.

And how very nice to meet you. Becki shook his hand, clearly finding his demeanor formal.

Later, we sat in the back of Jan’s old, funky truck. It rumbled along, threatening to break. We were all young, so none of us were all that concerned with it.

Yeah, Andrew wasn’t very friendly about the break-up, either, I gossiped. I guess he said he never really liked her, and he’d just never had a girlfriend before.

Becki said, That doesn’t even make any sense.

Jan made a sound that was somewhere between a giggle and a full laugh.

Well come on, he had to start dating somewhere, Josh commented from the front seat. What did you expect him to do?

Do you know this person? I asked.

He’s my brother.

He’s your… I was astounded. Brother?

Yeah. Josh turned to face me. Can’t you see it?

The blond hair, blue eyes, slight frame. Their faces were different, but they did have these features in common. What threw me was the way Josh beamed, such a drastic expression from the dour one Andrew always wore.

But you’re so… different in personality. I told him.

Look at you and your brother, though, Becki interjected.

Yeah, you’re right, I agreed in a tentative, skeptical way.

As Josh turned back to the windshield, Becki said, Well, share this with your brother.

She slapped him firmly upside the head.

Ow! Josh turned his head and winced in Becki’s direction, not entirely lighthearted but making an effort to portray that sentiment. Really! Ow.

When we got to the gas station, Jan opened the door to fill up and Becki crawled out after him, making suggestive gestures at me and nodding his way. I smiled at her. She winked, and then gave him her full, unwarranted attention.

So. Josh turned to me.

It was a statement of expectation, although I didn’t see it that way at the time. It’s true, I did have a lot to learn about men, but a good part of Josh’s charm is that moments with him are never sex-soaked. There has yet to be a time around him where I feel the pressure of being undressed by his eyes or violated in his thoughts. What can be sexually frustrating for a woman in her twenties is a pleasant and easy-going experience for a sixteen-year-old.

You don’t listen to country music, do you? He asked.

No.

Good-

Well- no.

What? He jumped somewhat in his seat, as though ready to object. You had to rethink it?

I don’t listen to country stations, I added. But there’s all the country music they play on regular radio, like Shania Twain-

What, and you like Shania Twain?

I shrugged. I get used to hearing it. Some of her new stuff is pretty bad. I think I liked it more when her music was just country with no pop.

Yeah, the blending of pop and country sucks. But I get it, you don’t like country music.

Oh, uh-

Good, I’m happy we talked about this.

As I struggled to get out all of what I was going to say before he could interrupt me, he seemed to be interrupting even himself with thoughts he expressed as highly important. He’s spastic, but there is a lot going on in that head. I wonder now what he was thinking. He never took his eyes off of me, and our faces were not very far away. I was maintaining a wall of personal distance, and not knowledgeable, had no idea that he was drilling in to it, starting a familiarity he would expound on each time we saw each other. He only had one real intent for me. There was one path he knew were walking together.

I didn’t know it; I was a sitting duck. A little girl looking at the face of a new friend. He smiled at me, turning back to the windshield as Becki and Jan returned.

What did we miss? Becki slid her eyes over in Jan’s direction, a smirk on her face at her successful mention of unity between them.

Nothing, I said, disinclined to further our small talk.

A conversation about country music, he said at the same time, in juxtaposition to my less specific response.

As it turned out, his response easily roped Becki and Jan in, very much more than my answer of nothing. Jan and Josh trashed country music, I remained casually disdainful, and Becki scowled and protested their comments, occasionally looking at me to back her up.

October, 2007

I had never seen him really cry before.

Not really, aside from a tear shed at a heartfelt movie. Sniffles here and there throughout our eight years. It’s not as though there had never been emotional moments. I had just never known which ones were real on his part.

But this was definitely something. He sobbed. He wrapped his arms around me, his head on my chest. He choked and gasped like a dying person, like I had done so many times over him, usually while he sat in the other room.

He confessed how he had held back all of the previous years. He admitted the irony of demanding that I trust him when he was both untrustworthy and had never trusted me with his own heart. It was all correct, and it was probably the truest moment he had ever had, in my mind. He was so honest. For the first time? I don’t know.

I felt for him. I could feel it somewhere in there, underneath everything. I could feel my heart beating under the hard shell, but it wasn’t threatening to break anymore. I had been building it up, making it thick and tough for a long time.

My prayers had been answered. I’d found a way to let him go. So I hugged him as his friend, but not as his lover, since that bond had been broken years ago, at some intangible point. The human psyche is so fragile.

I wiped his eyes when he cooled down. And then, in such a way that only married people can understand, I got up and made our dinner. Another struggle in the life of the so-called committed.

Summer, 1999

People who worked with me, but weren’t working that day, came in to Taco Bell. They were with a few others who I may or may not have seen in school. But it was a whole group, and they were all talking at once, gordita this, crunchy taco that, nachos, nachos, nachos.

Were they all together? Separate? The only one not trying to tell me something was staring at me as though he’d gotten lost and hadn’t realized he was in a fast food restaurant yet. What was his name? Eric.

Was he looking at me, or through me to the wall? Was he high, or something? Or did I grow antlers? Whatever was so out of place about me, nobody else seemed to be noticing or thinking of it.

I looked away from him, attempted to listen to three people at once, looked back at him, and tried to listen to the others again. It was throwing me off. I had enough trouble concentrating in general, and now this person had sparked my curiosity, and I needed to know what (what?!) was going on with him. He was still looking at me in the same way, eyes glazed over, mouth slightly agape. Where was he? How did he get here? What was going on?

Matt put his manager hat on, figuratively speaking as he was already physically wearing a hat. Alyson. What…? Here, move. I’m going to put this order in.

He leaned over my register, pushing buttons. The rest fell quiet. I let out my breath, no longer overwhelmed. Glancing back at Eric, I saw that he was still looking at me. I found myself thinking that perhaps this had to be his normal expression.

We were again in a group of people when Josh mentioned his girlfriend. It was early nighttime, and we were all wandering around an elementary school playground. I would have immediately decided I was mistaken, and that he had not been flirting with me the time I saw him before, had it not been for Becki’s raised eyebrow.

Oh- She started crossly.

-You have a girlfriend? I finished for her in a more pleasant manner.

Yeah, I know, Josh replied. You can say it.

Becki opened her mouth again.

Everybody thinks Jan and I are gay, just because we’re always slapping each other’s asses and telling people we’re gay.

Jan walked by then, saying something witty that I can’t recall.

"That wasn’t-" Becki started again.

I know, people say the same thing about us. I gestured to Becki, saving Josh from her wrath again. It’s a tomboy thing.

Oh, yeah, total lesbians. This idea seemed to appeal to Josh. By the way, what’s your sign?

Becki and I stared at him, agape. Nobody had asked me, the astrology queen, this question before I could ask them. Becki and I looked at each other, and back at him again.

"I know, I don’t really believe in the stuff. It’s just