I go back to Deming who briefly halts his flirting and turns to me, though he's still holding Kohl's hand. "What's up, girl?"

"I don't know..." I glance around, just to make sure he's not in ear shot and admit, "I just stopped talking to Zane."

Deming raises an eyebrow. "Zane? You mean Zane Ferro?"

"Oh," Kohl says, and sometimes, I really forget that he's in a totally different clique than me and Deming. I mean, maybe not a clique—or, maybe it is a clique, but the cliques at Scarlet Skies tend to have a fair bit of diversity, even then. Referring to high school cliques brings to mind nerds with braces and glasses and inhalers eating sun butter and jelly sandwiches while talking about DnD and resting their band instruments on their laps, and gorgeous, evil cheerleaders flirting with jocks and all sorts of stuff like that, but I don't think that's been accurate to how things have been in a while. (I mean, everyone and their mom seems to play DnD now, so...) Either way, there's still a group of popular kids, and that's a group Kohl's close to while Deming and I are not. "He's cool."

"He is!" I say.

"Wow," Deming says. "I didn't know you had a thing for jocks. A bit cliche, though, isn't it, Rozhan?"

I roll my eyes. "This isn't a romance novel, Deming. ...And if it was a romance novel where the nerd got together with the jock or whatever, the nerd would almost definitely just be a pretty, white, introverted girl in glasses who might come from a poor family, maybe, and she's either scared of commitment, struggles with her self-esteem, or is trying to focus on school and get a job and romance will just distract her or some shit." It makes it seem like I'm making fun of those books, but I read those types of books nonstop. But I'm not the main character of a book like that—I've yet to read any books that actually have a trans main character. I don't know.

It seems to me, that, because the majority of authors are now adults, they think things are the same—but the truth is a white boy in glasses isn't the image of an outcast in school—it's people from lower income families, or trans people, or gay people, or people of color, or disabled people. Even though Scarlet Skies is diverse itself, it's not perfect—I still get messed with by guys who say that I make an ugly chick or who think I just have a mental disability, but that's never what they say, they say an actual word you should never use. I still hear white girls call black boys in the hallway "thugs" and stuff. Another student in home room once used the word 'hella' herself, but said that another, black student who used it sounded uneducated. The truth is, I'm not unpopular because I'm a nerd or anything—I'm unpopular because I'm a trans girl of color who comes from a low income family at a prestigious private school, that comes way before I'm a nerd.

That's what I hate about it—everyone likes nerd girls in theory, at least, the pretty, white, cis ones, but if you're not pretty, or white, or cis, then you're not wanted and you're probably a fake nerd girl or something. I don't know—sometimes, I kind of hate people, just everyone.

"So, you admit you want to 'get together' with Zane?"

I roll my eyes. "Of course I do—he's hot." Deming nods in agreement.

"Hey," Kohl says.

"You're hot too," Deming tells him. "Like, ten times hotter, in my eyes, always, but like—he's cute, Kohl, and I'm gay."

"I heard a rumor he's bicurious," Kohl says. "I'm not sure if it's true—but he's not super homophobic too, which I really appreciate, because it's been a while since I've met a guy into sports who doesn't just call things gay 'cause he doesn't like them."

"I hate those people," I say.

"Those people are the worst!" Deming agrees, eagerly, being gay. "Like—the fact that we have a test is gay, but I kiss three boys, and I'm gay and going to hell? That's stupid! The test doesn't have to go to hell! That's not fair."

Kohl frowns. "You've kissed three boys?"

"Yeah. Before I started dating you, obviously."

"Well, yeah, I didn't doubt that but—when?"

"They're all some really good stories, I can't believe I haven't told you about it."

"...Do I kiss better than them?"

"You don't kiss very good, but neither did they." I'm wondering how and when to escape this conversation. It might have been worth it to leave the conversation a minute ago, but now I wonder if I'm too far into listening to it, that I can't really leave it.

"...Oh."

"But I've kissed you a lot more than I ever kissed them, so that's a good thing."

"I'm gonna get another soda," Kohl says. He leans over and kisses Deming's cheek. "I'll be right back, babe."

"Don't keep me waiting too long—these romance novels are weird."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I ask Deming, but he just laughs.

"How many people have stopped to flirt with you besides Zane?" He asks.

I'm not sure if Zane was actually flirting with me, to be honest, but maybe he was. It's one of those things that's easier to comprehend and label when you're watching instead of experiencing. "Eh. A few guys looked at me, and a girl that was also dressed as Red Riding Hood told me I looked nice."

He nods like he approves. "I think that's good for the amount of time we've been here. I don't know, I don't really get hit on at parties. Actually, I don't really go to parties."

Then...why am I asking for his advice? I mean, other than the fact that I appreciate his advice and his opinions. But really, this might just be the blind leading the blind when it comes to him right now. Maybe I'll go find Lada?

"Hey, I'm gonna go find Lada—you okay on your own until Kohl comes back?"

He sighs and over dramatically leans against the wall, throwing his arm over his eyes. "I suppose I shall be able to survive my abandonment for a moment." With the way he's standing, he's really showing off the fake blood on his throat—for a minute, I actually start, like I forget it's Halloween and totally fake. But maybe that speaks more to the fact that I can't really handle gore super well than how realistic it is.

"Alright, cool."

Lada's house is flooded with people, but near everyone seems to be having a good time. I find Lada in the kitchen, drinking a bottle of cider that doesn't seem to be her first one, since there's an empty bottle right next to her, but the thing's only twelve ounces and she's pretty tall, so I think it's nothing to worry about. She's sharing a small bag of white cheddar popcorn with Dawn, who's swung her axe over her shoulder. "Hey," she greets me. "You having fun?"

I smile and nod. "Yeah, this has been great so far."

She grins—and she might be slightly tipsy. "You met anyone yet?"

"No...? But I ran into Zane."

Lada nods. "Zane's cool—we hang out a lot. Once, he went out and bought me tampons, back when I didn't have a car just yet and he did and I didn't have any. Love that guy."

Dawn nudges her in the ribs. "Sounds like you have a straight girl crush."

Lada laughs loudly and shoves her playfully. "Oh my god, don't even say that!" Dawn rubs her arm and smiles, before taking a sip of what looks like an actual beer—someone brought beer over. "Anyone else?"

"Went and talked to Deming and Kohl before I came over here."

Lada groans. "Come on, Rozhan—it's a party! Here—" She grabbed a hard cider and put it in my hand. "Drink a bit and mingle. And if that get's old, hang out near the snacks and look all aloof and mysterious—someone will probably come over to flirt. That's what the media has lead me to believe!"

"Let me guess—you read a lot of romance novels?" I ask.

She giggles. "Dawn bought me a bunch of lesbian romance novels for our firstly year anniversary." She points at Dawn, like I forgot who Dawn was. I swear Dawn's blushing—and she takes a hard sip of her drink. "Dawn, right there." I don't know why she said 'firstly' but I understand what she meant. "They were so sweet!"

"She lost it over the manga," Dawn says. "A single manga of lesbian romance, and she refused to put it down for three weeks straight. She fell asleep holding it."

"The ghost girl!" Lada exclaims. "I loved her, the poor thing, oh my god."

Dawn sighs. "Lada, we really got cut you off. How much have you drank?"

Lada leans forward and boops her nose. It does not answer the question.

Even though the advice is coming from a relatively drunk source (I do not think she only really had those two I thought she did), I decide to listen to Lada. I wander through the people, trying to find someone I know that isn't Deming, Kohl, or Lada.

I find Tiffany, a girl in my English class I'm not really close with. She's dressed as a zombie, dark hair threaded with fake blood. She greets me eagerly and talks a mile a minute—about how she was invited, and this is so much fun and how I clean up nice and look much different when I'm not in my school uniform. She's there with Fiona, a girl I don't think I've ever met, but she's apparently dressed as a cat, and if I see her, Tiffany'd appreciate me sending her her way.

"Probably trying to get a glimpse at Zane," Tiffany laughs. "She's got the biggest crush on him—just like me and every other girl at this school."

I feel called out. "Yeah, he's here—dressed as a hot pirate."

"Pirates do tend to be hot," she acknowledges. I leave—run into a bunch of other people. A boy does actually stop to flirt with me, but he apparently really thought my name was Rosa and his embarrassment ends the conversation early.

After a while, I listen to Drunk!Lada's advice and hover in the corner, by the snack table and drink my cider and try Dawn's cookies.

They're fucking amazing, I realize.