“Hell, she might not even have an interest.”

“Come again?” Harper said. “I missed something.”

Flann muttered, “Nothing. Forget it.”

“What’s bugging you?”

“Abby’s got a kid. Maybe she’s straight.”

“I’m still not following,” Harper said, eyeing Flann curiously. “Maybe she is, or maybe she’s bi. Does it matter?”

“Nope. It doesn’t.” Flann didn’t make a habit of lying to her sister, or to herself. She really couldn’t explain why she just had.

CHAPTER NINE

“Hey,” Margie said with a big grin as she climbed into the extended cab of Harper’s pickup. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

Blake squeezed over as far as he could on the rear seat to give her room. Almost half of it was piled with medical equipment and supplies in plastic crates along with a big locked metal box that looked like it was bolted to the floor. He kind of felt like he was in a traveling ER van and couldn’t imagine doing anything like this back home. In his old home, he reminded himself. He smiled, hoping Margie’s smile meant she was glad to see him. “My mom and I were at Presley’s, and I ended up helping build the coop.”

“How’s it look?”

“Awesome. It’s really big. Flann says there’ll be plenty of room for them all.”

“I don’t know how Rooster’s gonna feel sleeping in a coop. Usually he sleeps in a tree,” Margie said. “But it’s not safe.”

Blake pictured the limping rooster alone in the dark and got a tight feeling in his middle. “I guess it’s good he’s got the coop, then.”

Flann said from the front seat, “He’s going to be a lot happier about the chickens than he is about not liking the coop.”

“Yeah, he’ll be busy soon enough.” Margie laughed. “How many are we getting?”

“I figured six would be enough,” Harper said, turning in to Tractor Supply. “Depends on what they’ve got left in straight runs.”

“That means all females,” Margie said at Blake’s questioning look. “Mostly you take your chances on the sex because it’s really, really hard to tell the sex of baby chicks. They all look alike at hatch.”

“Uh-huh,” Blake said, trying to sound knowledgeable when he had no idea what everyone was talking about. Until last year, he’d had a circle of friends whose experiences were pretty much the same as his, even though he’d never quite related to some of their interests and never known why. They’d shared books and music and movies and school stuff, and that was enough. Flann and Harper were older, though, and he hadn’t spent a lot of time with his mom’s friends before this. She didn’t have a lot of time to do much of anything except work. He couldn’t actually remember her socializing with people at work. He didn’t blame her. He knew what time she got up in the morning and when she got home from work. And when she wasn’t at the hospital, she spent as much time as she could with him. He saw her a lot more than some kids saw their parents, even with her crazy schedule.

This was all different, though. Flann and Harper and Margie included him as if they’d known him for a long time. They acted regular around him, not studying him with questioning eyes. At least not very much.

He’d expected the stares and the questions and the comments. He’d watched dozens, probably hundreds of videos on YouTube of trans kids talking about their experiences of coming out, or not. Some were good and others bad, and he knew, or thought he’d known, what he’d be facing. Knowing didn’t make it any less scary, but at least he could practice being prepared. He’d practiced a lot before he’d talked to his mom. That was the hardest, but the most important, even more important than telling Andy and April and Jill.

As long as he could remember, his mom and his grandmom were there for him. His grandmom practically all the time, and his mom whenever she could be. He couldn’t not tell his mom, but he hadn’t quite worked out what he would do if she totally freaked out. She hadn’t. She’d sat quietly, studying him the way she did when she was trying to look inside him. He thought she probably could, because when he’d finished stumbling through his decision, she’d asked the right questions. Most of all she’d said the right thing.

“I love you. You are my child, and you are who you feel you are. You’ll have to be patient with me as I’ve got a lot to learn, just like you. We’ll do it together, agreed?”

Whenever he faced a new situation, he thought about what she’d said. He wasn’t alone, even though he was lonely sometimes. He was lonely right now even though Flann and Harper and Margie treated him like a friend. They didn’t really know him yet, and maybe they’d change their minds when they did. But he was excited too. He was part of this little group, at least for the next few minutes, and he was having fun.

“So tell me about raising chicks,” Blake said, following Margie into the big warehouse-type store.

For the next twenty minutes while they watched the little round balls of fluff clamor around in big metal tubs, Margie filled him in on keeping them warm and making sure they had the right food and water and seeing that the rooster didn’t bother them too much until they got bigger, and checking the weather forecasts because it could still get cold at night and they were vulnerable. The sign over the tub with the most chicks said UNSEXED.

“They all look alike,” Blake murmured.

“Told you it was impossible to tell,” Margie said.

“It’s sort of neat not being able to tell males from females just by looking,” Blake said. “Does it really matter so much?”

Margie looked him in the eye. “Not with people, I don’t think. With the chickens it does, though. You can’t have roosters in the town limits, for one thing, so anyone with a backyard flock doesn’t want one.”

A thrill of possibility rippled down Blake’s spine. Margie as much as said she was okay with him being different. She hadn’t asked for an explanation or a label. For the first time in a long time, he felt free to just be. Maybe it wouldn’t last, but it was pretty awesome right now. “You can have chickens in your yard?”

“Sure—you have plenty of room at the old school—”

Harper cut in. “Maybe Abby isn’t ready for chickens just yet, Margie.”

“Besides,” Flann said, joining them, “Blake has to work on the dog angle first.”

“Okay,” Margie said. “Next year, though…”

Flann put Margie in a headlock. “Enough helpful advice.”

Margie laughed and tried to squirm free.

Blake grinned. “That’s okay. I’m going to wage a long, careful campaign about a puppy.”

“Oho,” Flann said, letting Margie go. “Something tells me your mom won’t be easily taken in.”

“Nope,” Blake said. “But she loves animals, so it won’t be too hard.”

“You two pick out half a dozen,” Harper said.

Ten minutes later they were headed back to Presley’s with a cardboard box of six peeping chicks balanced on the seat between Blake and Margie.

From the front seat, Harper said, “Presley’s going to be pretty busy at work for the next few weeks. Maybe you two could drop over during the day and check on the chicks. Do you drive yet, Blake?”

“Not yet. I’ll be able to get my permit in a couple weeks, but I haven’t really thought about it all that much.”

“Bike?” Flann said. “It’s not that far a ride.”

“I’m getting one soon.” Blake shifted uncomfortably. “But I don’t know much—like nothing—about chickens.”

Margie said, “The White place is about the same distance for you as it is for me from home—about five miles. That’s an easy ride. We could meet up and do it together.”

Blake’s heart jumped. He didn’t care if he had to get up at dawn, as long as he had something to do and someone to do it with. And Margie was really easy to be with. She was smart and funny and she accepted him for him, at least she did right now. If he came out, put words to who he was, maybe she wouldn’t. His chest hurt but he had to try. “Yeah, sure. We could do that. What time?”

“I’ll talk to Presley, Harp,” Margie said. “We can work out a schedule.”

Harper glanced back and grinned. “You’re in charge, Margie.”

“Of course,” she said and settled back in the seat.

Blake said, “I have to get a bike right away.”

“We’ve got plenty at the house. You can borrow one of ours for a while.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure,” Flann said. “There’s one of mine there I’m not using. Feel free. We’re about the same height, so the fit should be good for you.”

“Are you sure?” Blake asked.

“Absolutely. I’ll bring it by your place tomorrow,” Flann said.

“That would be so terrific. Thanks.”

As Harper gave her a sharp look, Flann said, “Don’t mention it.”

*

Abby set out a stack of multicolored plastic plates, glasses, and disposable utensils on the red-and-white checked oilcloth that Carrie had spread over one of the two picnic tables. As she turned to go back in the house, Harper pulled up and Margie and Blake piled out of the backseat of the pickup, talking animatedly about something. Flannery jumped down from the passenger side, and for an instant, Abby had no thought in her head except how good Flann looked in tight blue jeans and her faded gray T-shirt. Better than any woman had a right to look. She caught her wandering mind and dragged her thoughts back into safer lines. Harper reached in to the backseat and came up with a cardboard box that she carried toward the house.

“Hey, Presley,” Harper called. “You got a minute?”

Presley came to the screen door and looked out. “I’m just about to pull the roast out. What’s up?”

“Got you a little something.”

Presley hipped the door, wiping her hands on a pale yellow dish towel. “I hope it’s dessert.”