I Wish You All the Best Read online

  Jesus, how could I forget? “Right, sorry.”

  “You okay?” They lean into the camera. “You seem spacey tonight.”

  “Just thinking about a lot of things.”

  “Talk to your enby mama!” They chuckle. “Dr. Haidari is in the building.”

  “It’s a guy.”

  “Again? Look at you.” They cheer. “Different guy or same guy?”

  “Same one.” I open my mouth before I realize what I’m doing. “Mariam, how do you get someone to like you?”

  They let out a little squeal and I have to put them on mute before Hannah or Thomas think something is wrong. “Sorry, I’ve just been waiting for this day for forever.” They pretend to wipe away a tear.

  “Love the vote of confidence,” I add.

  “How does he act around you?”

  “The same way he acts around everyone else, pretty much.”

  “Is it that confusing sort of friendly where you don’t know if he really is just being friendly, or if he’s flirting with you?”

  “Basically.” I sigh. “I don’t even know if he’s queer. Or how the whole nonbinary thing would even work.”

  “Cross your heart and hope he’s bi?” Mariam even makes the little “x” over their chest.

  I can’t help but laugh.

  “What do you like about him?”

  “That’s kind of the thing. I don’t know if I like him, or if I like like him.”

  “Have you ever had a crush before, Ben?”

  “Not really? I mean there are people on TV that I find attractive, but no one I’ve really been attracted to, if that makes any sense,” I say.

  “Not even Chris Evans?” they ask.

  “He’s too beautiful, that doesn’t count.”

  “True. How do you feel around Nathan?”

  It’s such a strange feeling, honestly, and I’ve never really felt that way around anyone before. “He makes me nervous, but not really in a bad way?” It sounds strange when I say it out loud, but that’s exactly how it feels.

  “Like your stomach gets all weird and you feel like you’re going to be sick, but it never happens?”

  “Gross, but accurate,” I say, because it is. It’s the truth.

  “Yeah, you’re crushing, my friend. Hard-core too.”

  “Oh.” Is it weird that I had to have my best friend confirm this for me? It feels weird. But at least I know for certain now. I have a crush on Nathan Allan.

  “Has he said anything about his sexuality or anything?”

  “Nope.”

  “He doesn’t know you’re nonbinary, does he?”

  “I’m not out to him. I don’t think I can be.”

  “Oh, Benji.” They sound heartbroken.

  “It’s fine, I’m getting used to it.”

  “You shouldn’t have to. Has he said anything that makes you think it’d be a bad thing to come out?” they ask.

  “Not that I can really think of.”

  “You just don’t want to?”

  “I’m worried. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would out me or hate me. But what if he is?”

  I could never imagine Nathan being that kind of person. But once I say those words, there is no taking them back. Now there’s no other school for me to transfer to, nowhere left for me to run. I’d be spending the next few months as a pariah.

  “Oh, Ben … Maybe if you got him talking? Like, bring up something about sexuality or identity?”

  “Because that’s totally natural and wouldn’t be suspicious in the least.”

  “I wish I knew what to tell you. I’m sorry.”

  “Maybe I’ll get over him,” I say. What’s the point in pining so much? It won’t help me. Won’t help him. He deserves something less complicated, more grounded. “He’s probably going off to school anyway.” And I’ll be here.

  “High school relationships hardly last after graduation anyway, if that helps.”

  “It’s whatever,” I say as my phone starts to buzz on my nightstand. Speak of the devil and he shall text you. Maybe I just talked about him too much, and his Nathan-sense went off or something.

  Nathan: Hey are you busy this weekend?

  “That’s him,” I say to Mariam.

  We haven’t really talked much since that night on the roof. Apparently, his parents sprung a trip to visit his grandmother in Maggie Valley at the last minute. Other than that, it’s been a handful of texts here and there, but never a conversation lasting more than a few minutes.

  Me: Not really, I don’t think so at least. Why?

  Me: Are you back?

  “What’s he saying?” Mariam asks.

  “He’s talking about this weekend.”

  “Ohhh, I’ll leave you two alone. I’m about to pass out anyway.”

  I blow a kiss to the camera. “Good night.”

  Mariam blows a kiss too. “You too, lover kid.” I close the laptop, leaving it right where it sits.

  Nathan: Yeah got back this morning, wanted to see if you want to hang out or something?

  Me: Oh um sure.

  Nathan: There’s this cool thing happening in town on Saturday, want to check it out?

  Me: What is it?

  Nathan: It’s a surprise ;)

  Nathan: If you say yes of course.

  Me: Okay…

  Nathan: Awesome

  Nathan: I can pick you up around 5? It doesn’t start until 6:30 but we’ll want to get there early.

  Me: That’s fine.

  Nathan: Trying to make sure we get there with enough time. These things can get a little wild.

  Me: okay… so how was your grandma’s?

  I lean back on my bed and grab my sketch pad, needing something to clear my head. I flip past the pages of sketches. Right near the end, there’s the one of Nathan. The one of him on his bed, still mostly unfinished. And that just makes me think of his portrait back at school.

  If I agree to this art show, will Mrs. Liu want that one? She seemed to really like it. I don’t know how I feel about my classmates seeing it. It just feels too personal.

  Nathan: It was cool, a little boring though. She doesn’t have wi-fi and the service down there sucks. Basically the only time I could text you was when we went to the Walmart.

  Oh. So he wasn’t ignoring me.

  Me: That sucks, I’m pretty much lost without wi-fi

  Nathan: Same!!!!!!!!

  Nathan: So, I’ll see you tomorrow?

  Me: Sure

  Nathan: Awesome, good night Benjamin

  Me: Good night, Nathaniel

  The more I think about what I’m going to wear tonight, the more worried I get. Nathan still won’t tell me exactly what we’re doing, just that it’s something in Pullen Park. He’s also forbidden me from looking at the park’s website for a list of events. I’m not really clear on how he expects to enforce that last one, but I keep to my promise.

  Why am I even this nervous? I shouldn’t be.

  It’s not like this is a date. We’re just friends. Friends hanging out with each other and not doing anything else. I stare down at my hands, my nails naked now.

  “Hey, do you need any money tonight?” Hannah knocks on my door while I stare at myself in the mirror. I’ve changed shirts three times now, finally deciding on one of the button-ups she bought me. Not the floral one. I still think that seems like it’s meant for a more special occasion. Maybe the art show if I decide to do it.

  “I don’t really know.”

  “Okay, here’s forty just in case.” She hands me two folded twenty-dollar bills. “Unless this is another party that you’re lying to me about.”

  I consider turning it down for half a second, but if whatever Nathan is taking me to tonight requires some sort of entry fee, I’ll be shit out of luck without it. “Thank you.” I take the cash and slide it into my wallet. “And it’s not a party, I promise.”

  “No problem. What time is he coming over?”

  I check my phone. “About five
minutes ago.” Shit, I’m already late. I run to Hannah and Thomas’s bathroom to steal some of Thomas’s cologne, because apparently, I’m going all out tonight. I even stop in front of the mirror to try and put some effort into my hair, but there’s really no fixing this mess. Maybe I should ask Hannah to cut it, but I sort of like it this way. Before I leave the bathroom, I take my second dose of Xanax for the day and make sure to jot down the date and time in the little notebook Dr. Taylor gave me.

  After triple-checking I’ve got everything—phone, keys, and wallet—I wave good-bye to Hannah and Thomas. They’re watching some reality show and eating takeout in the living room. “Stay safe, kid.” Thomas waves to me.

  “No promises,” I yell from the door. “I’ll be home later.”

  “Midnight at the latest, please!” Hannah calls back.

  Nathan’s just pulling into the driveway when I close the door behind me. “Sorry I’m late, Mom wouldn’t let me leave without walking the dog,” he says after I buckle my seat belt.

  “It’s fine. So still no hints about where we’re going?”

  “Ah-ah.” He wiggles his finger. “It’s a surprise, but I’ll tell you it involves one of the greatest movies of all time.”

  “That still sounds vaguely malicious.” I watch him put the car in reverse and back out of the driveway. “Park and a movie, huh?”

  Nathan glances over to me, grinning like always.

  Pullen Park is huge. Like huge, huge. I never really made it a habit of going to parks, even as a kid. This one time I saw a needle on a jungle gym, went and told Mom, and we never went to that park, or any park, ever again. Can’t say I blame her after she explained what could’ve happened if I’d picked it up.

  “So, what are we doing here?”

  We’ve just been walking around now. Apparently, there are no parking spots close to whatever this event is, so we had to park on the opposite side. Which means a lot of walking.

  “Ever heard of a little movie called Star Wars?”

  “No. Tell me more!” I give him some side-eye and he just starts shaking his head. “That doesn’t explain why we’re in a park. Or why you’re carrying around a basket.”

  “It’s a showing. The city does this about twice a month, they set up this stage and project a movie on the screen for everyone to watch.”

  “Oh, so why are we here so early?”

  “To get the good seats.” He pats at the basket in his arms, and I swear it’s the most stereotypically wicker thing I’ve ever seen. “These things are always wild. If you don’t get here early, you’ll be stuck in the front section. Not fun.”

  “So we get to sit here for an hour and wait?”

  “They play music,” Nathan protests. “Besides.” He swings the basket toward me. “I’ve got a picnic.”

  “A pic-a-nic?” I try to snatch it away, but he pulls back at the very last second.

  “But my Titanic joke was dated, huh?” We finally reach this huge gate that leads right to the concert arena, which isn’t much more than a hill with a stage. There are concrete sections near the front for chairs, but the majority of the arena is grass.

  “Wow,” I say.

  “It’s just like a theater. You want to go for the middle section.” Nathan points to where the crowd is beginning to linger. There might be around thirty people already. “See, most people want to go to the front or to the very back, but then you don’t get that crisp sound.”

  “‘Crisp sound’?” I try not to giggle. “How much can I pay you to never say ‘crisp’ again?”

  “Very funny.” His mouth spreads into that big grin. “This is a good spot.” Nathan reaches into the basket and pulls out this absolutely huge blanket, letting the slight breeze unfold it for him before settling it down.

  “Here. Take a seat, my prince.”

  “Prince?” I feel myself get smaller. He doesn’t know, he can’t know. Just stop making a big deal out of it.

  He grabs the basket and gets down on his knees. “What’s wrong with being a prince?”

  “Nothing.” I try to shake that weird feeling. “Nothing. So what do we have?”

  “I bought a few sandwiches. But I wasn’t sure what you like.” Nathan opens the basket and starts to lay everything out. “There’s ham and cheese, turkey with lettuce and bacon. And in case you’re vegetarian, there’s a veggie one. No cheese either, so it’s vegan too!”

  I eye the choices, grabbing the ham and cheese.

  “Classic, nice.” Nathan picks the turkey.

  “What do we do while we wait?”

  “We eat, we talk, do a little one-on-one bonding.” The music starts to echo over the loudspeakers at the back of the arena.

  “Sounds fun.” I unwrap the sandwich and take a bite. “So …” I swallow.

  “So …” he says, rocking back and forth a little.

  “What do you want to talk about?” I ask.

  He bites into his sandwich again. “Well, as much as I’d love to sit here and have an awkward back-and-forth with you, I think we need to have a serious discussion.”

  “What?” My mind races with at least a thousand possibilities. Did he figure it out somehow? Or maybe the night at Stephanie’s really did scare him, and he wants to know exactly what’s wrong with me. Maybe he doesn’t want to be friends anymore? No, that’s silly. Why would he invite me out like this, make us a dinner, if he wanted to stop being my friend?

  Nathan grins from ear to ear. “I think we should get to know each other a little better.”

  “Oh. Um … Okay?”

  “Come on, I’ve known you for almost three months now and I barely know the first thing about you.” He starts counting off. “You like to draw, last name is De Backer, you live with your sister, you’re a little weird, but I like that about you.”

  “Am not,” I argue.

  “Dude, come on.” He picks up the veggie sandwich. “I didn’t even know if you’re vegetarian or not.”

  “Whatever,” I huff. “So, what do you want to know?”

  He leans back on the blanket, folding his arms under his head. “Hold on, have to think of a good one.” He thinks for a moment. “Okay, so what’s your favorite color?”

  “I like green, and pur—”

  “Ah-ah. I said favorite. Not the ones you just like.”

  “You’re going to laugh at me.” I put my sandwich on the blanket, my appetite suddenly forgotten.

  “I promise I won’t laugh. Pinky promise.” He sticks out his pinky.

  I take his finger. “Pink. I like pink.”

  “Pink is a perfectly acceptable color. Why would I laugh?”

  I shrug. Because pink is “girly,” because for some reason even colors have been assigned gender. Because I’m supposed to be a boy, and boys aren’t supposed to like pink.

  “Is there a particular shade of pink that you’re fond of?”

  “I thought it was my turn?”

  That makes him laugh. And I notice for the first time how breathy it is, the way his chest moves, and how his mouth somehow gets bigger, even though that seems impossible. “Touché, De Backer. So what’s your question for me?”

  “You said you moved when you were young.” There is something I want to ask him, but it seems like too much.

  “True, but not exactly a question.”

  “Do you like it here?”

  “It’s nice. I’ve made a lot of new friends, but sometimes I miss my old ones. Didn’t really have a choice.” He tries to laugh it off. “Mom got a better job offer, and we couldn’t pass it up.”

  “Oh, that sucks.” He seems so subdued in an instant.

  “What about you? Do you like it here?”

  I pick at the grass absentmindedly. “It’s nice,” I say, really not knowing what else there is to say. “The whole city thing is taking some getting used to. Goldsboro’s a small city. The kind where everyone pretty much knows everyone, and you’re somehow related if you look far enough up a family tree.”

 
; “Ugh,” Nathan scoffs. “I hate the country.”

  “It’s quiet,” I add.

  “Sometimes a little noise isn’t such a bad thing.” Nathan sits up to fold up his sandwich and leaves it beside mine. “Your turn.”

  “All right.” I rock back and forth, trying to think of what I can ask. “And I can’t pass?”

  “Nope!”

  “Okay. You like to read, what’s your favorite book?”

  Nathan leans back and lets out a low, long groan. “How could you make me choose?”

  “Stop avoiding, Allan.” I grin. “I’ve answered your tough ones.”

  “But this is about books!” Nathan scoots in closer. “Out of all the ones I’ve read, you expect me to pick just one favorite?”

  I roll my eyes. “Okay, whiny baby, I’ll amend it. What is your favorite kind of book?”

  “Much more manageable,” he says. “Still tough, but I think I could answer it.”

  “Are you planning on doing that anytime soon?” I ask.

  “Smartass.” Nathan lets out this low laugh. “I like the kind I can lose myself in, the ones that let me get away for a hundred pages at a time.”

  “Huh.” I stare at him for a few seconds.

  “Acceptable for you?” He’s still grinning.

  I nod. “For now. Your turn.”

  Nathan takes a deep breath, I watch the slow rise and fall of his chest. “Okay, waffles or pancakes?”

  “Seriously?” I eye him.

  “Answer the question, De Backer.”

  “Waffles.”

  “The right answer. Clearly the superior breakfast treat.”

  “Is that a deal breaker?” I ask.

  “You mean choosing between some soggy, cakey mess, and a delicious treat? No, not at all.”

  “What about French toast, or crepes?”

  “Well, they’re perfectly fine substitutes, but the waffle has everything. It’s crisp—”

  I stop him. “There’s that word again.”

  Nathan rolls his eyes and just keeps going. “It’s the perfect shape, with little syrup holders, and you can have so many flavors too.”

  “Wow, a real Waffle Master.” I’m trying not to laugh.

  “It’s a serious matter, Mr. De Backer.” He’s still laughing. “Okay, now you.”