I don't know what I don't understand more—why I listened to Drunk!Lada's advice when she really seemed to need to sober up and take a nap, or that her advice works.

A girl dressed up as an anime character—made obvious by her dark blue hair in long pig tails and the animal-ish ears on top of her head. "Hey, you're, um..." She seems to realize she doesn't know my name, so instead she says, "I love your dress!"

"Thanks, I love your costume!"

We start a conversation about anime—and then one of her friends come up, grab her arm and mentions something about how her brother got into a car wreck and she rushes off. That's a pretty good reason to stop a conversation and leave a party, so I don't let it bother me and just kind of hope that girl's brother is okay.

After a minute, Deming finds me. "You okay?" I ask.

He rolls his eyes. "Not by a long shot. Kohl didn't come back after grabbing that soda, so I went looking for him, and then I bumped into Minni, and we locked eyes."

I make an audible, "ugh."

"Yeah," Deming says. "I feel like it's only a matter of time until we have to talk to her, so if we do, I want to make it obvious we're still friends and we're totally fine without her TERFy ass."

"Oh, yeah, totally." I take a drink of my hard cider—and I see her. She's curled her hair, and she's dressed in a black tube skirt, a white button up shirt, a red tie and a black robe. She's dressed as Hermione, I realize, and right on her arm is a boy with a very obvious black wig, and a penciled in scar shaped like lightning on his forehead, horn rimmed glasses with no lenses, dressed in black. "Damn," I say. "Still a hard core Potterhead."

"Sounds like Minni," Deming sighs. He grabs a handful of chips and crams them into his mouth. "Ugh, where is Kohl?"

She walks up to us, hesitates and says, "Hi."

"Do you need something?" I ask. I keep my voice quiet.

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Just because I come up to talk to you guys doesn't mean I need something." It’s not as snotty as I’d expect from her, it’s quiet, only a bit less so than my own voice.

"Well," Deming snarks. "We hoped if you walked up to us, it wouldn't be to waste our time."

Minni rolls her eyes—but she does look really uncomfortable. "...I didn't think it was that bad," she says. "What did I say that was so bad?"

I swallow the lump in my throat. "Well, what did I say when we first started arguing?"

She sighs. "I'm sorry you got offended—"

"What kind of fucking apology is this?" Deming asks. "If you come up to apologize someone, after years of not being on speaking terms, you don't start your apology with 'I'm sorry you got offended,' you say, 'I'm sorry I offended you.' You don't apologize for what the other felt, you apologize for saying the thing they found offensive, and you try to be better, or you try to make up for it, or you at the very fucking least, listen to the other people—and if you don't, you're obviously not sorry enough."

"Come on, isn't this a bit childish?" Her friend asks.

"Shut up, Harry Potter!" Deming snaps. "You aren't a part of this."

Minni shakes her head. "I came over just to apologize—I honestly didn't mean to make you that upset—can't we just agree to disagree on this?" She looks at me, and I know immediately that she doesn't know my name. I remember brainstorming ideas for names when I first came out to her—and she doesn't know the name I go by now. And it kind of hurts—it leaves this sting, this ache, somewhere in my chest. It smarts, it burns—and I realize, just as much as I feel hurt, I feel angry.

I don't think I'm actually used to being angry. But I don't know what she wants—to tie up this loose end? Get something off her chest? Attract a few partygoer's attention and make me feel embarrassed just so she can feel better about herself—does she not understand that Deming and I are trying to move on because obviously, that's better for both of us?

Deming somehow seems to notice all of my emotions and jumps to defend me, because he knows that I can't do it myself. "You stupid bitch," he says flatly. "This isn't a matter you 'agree to disagree' on, you can't just—"

People are watching. Whatever Minni wants from us right now—peace, to put the past to rest, I don't know, but I decide I can't care. "Deming," I say gently, and I grab his arm. He looks at me. "Drop it. This...isn't worth it."

"Rozhan," he says gently.

I'd be a liar if I said I didn't want to tear into her. I want to give her the drag of the century. I want to chew her up and spit her back out, and not just her, but basically everyone that messes with me, and I don't know why. Sometimes, I just get like this, I guess? Angry at the world, for judging me, for something like this. "Leave us alone, Minni. We don't want to talk right now, okay?" People are staring. Not everyone, of course, but a few people are looking our way, like they're expecting a fight to break out. I notice Tiffany from earlier, I notice Dawn, looking confused, Lada looking worried, slightly dizzy and unsure of what to do, and across the room, Zane is watching the entire scene play out and I can't read his expression. ...Well, it might not be Zane, because I can't see that far, but I see the outline of his pirate hat, and he's a brown blur, assuming it's him.

I grab Deming's forearm and tug him with me, walking away quickly. I can feel Minni's brown eyes following me, but I refuse to look back. My face feels warm. I just wait until the mass of people separates us from Minni and I know she's not following and I let go, but I keep walking until we reach the kitchen which is empty now. "It's not worth it," I say. "It's not worth it."

Deming shakes his head, seems to get angry all over again—but he's always done that when it comes to me. Back when we were eight, Deming got into his first fight because a boy said I was stupid and his mom said there was something wrong with me. Deming kind of lost the fight, but he went down swinging. He's been like that for all of his friends—he'd fight someone to the death for Kohl or me, if we allowed him too.

But he doesn't go looking for fights, even if he's angry. He shakes his head again, noticeably forces himself to relax and then takes a deep breath. "Rozhan," he says, softly. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I am," I respond.

"Rozhan, we both know you took it hard when we were fighting."

"Deming." I grab his shoulder—mostly to stabilize myself because my legs won't stop shaking. "She's an asshole. She's not worth it. I have you, I don't need her."

He grabs my hand that's on his shoulder. "Are you sure? I know you don't deal well with confrontations. I know this is a first for you when it comes to parties. I know some people were looking at us."

But it's fine. "We'll be fine." My legs are still shaking. "I don't know what the hell she wanted, but... whatever it was, we didn't want it, and...it's over."

"What a bitch," he sniffs. "Can't believe we wasted so much time on a TERF."

I nod. "Yeah."

Someone else walks in—Kohl. "Deming, babe." He steps closer, wraps an arm around his shoulder and kisses his cheek. "What happened over there?"

"Nothing," he sighs. "It literally doesn't matter that much." But he grabs his hand and squeezes it tightly, shutting his eyes.

There's a moment of silence before Kohl speaks up again. "Hey, Deming, mind if I talk to you in private real quick?"

Deming pauses and looks at me. "You'll be okay if I leave for however long 'real quick' is?" He asks.

I nod. "Of course. Go talk with your boyfriend, I'm fine."

Deming smiles and walks off with Kohl—I don't know what it's about, but I suppose it's none of my business so it doesn't matter. I slouch and prop my arms up on the table by my elbows—and bury my head in my hands, trying to breathe, but all I can feel is a dozen eyes piercing me.

I hear footsteps, but before I can do anything, I hear a voice speak up. "So, was that like, a bunch of ex-girlfriend trouble or...?" I look over at the entryway—and it's Gina. She's dressed in a black crop top that says 'BOO!' On it over her chest in orange lettering. There's a black streak in her hair, and an orange bracelet on her wrist, wearing jeans shredded at the knees with a silver, ghost dangling from a chain around her neck. I'm not even going to mention the pumpkin earrings she has on. "Seemed like some trashy ex-girlfriend drama."

I sniff. "No, just an ex-friend. It's dumb." I fix my hair and my headband.

She smiles a bit. "Seemed like some bullshit," she agrees. "You, uh...okay?"

"Yeah, totally." ...But I cross my arms over my chest. I just can't feel comfortable after that. Just thinking about Minni makes me lose comfort in my own skin. "Just, um...don't think I really belong at this party."

"What?" Gina says. "Of course you do—I literally heard five different people ask about the hot chick with curly hair dressed as Red Riding Hood."

I shrug.

"...People suck," Gina says. "...Especially me. I like Lada, but I crammed my pockets full of dark chocolate and candied almonds." She pulls out a piece of chocolate in a black wrapper and offers it to me. "...Wanna suck like me?"

I smile and accept it. "So, like, how noticeable was all that shit?" I ask, unwrapping it.

"Only noticeable if you were nearby," she says. "I just uh...tend to have a sixth sense for these types of things. I always know when there's gonna be trouble, you know?" I pop the candy in my mouth. "Don't worry—half the people who saw were pretty drunk, they'll probably forget about it by morning."

I nod. "Thanks for the chocolate."

She smiles. "If there's one thing I can appreciate in life, it's the ability sweets have to improve moods."

She cross her legs at her ankles and leans against the counter. "So, kind of related question, but not really—have you seen that one comic on Tumblr or whatever of Little Red Riding Hood, but she wears a hijab and when she visit her grandmother, she brings flowers for the lumberjack nearby who's a butch lesbian?"

"No, but that sounds like a dope ass fairytale," I admit. ...dope ass... I don't know why the hell I said that. I'm a dumbass.

"It is," she agrees. "I like gay fairytales."

"I've never read any gay fairy tales," I admit. "I mean, at this point, good gay representation feels a bit more like a fairytale."

Gina regards me for a moment. "I feel you but I got a good list. Like, um...that book from Jeff Garvin... Symptoms of Being Human? My favorite—has a genderfluid main character, who hooks up with a chick with a lip ring and lip rings are hot."

"Never heard of that one," I say. "Is it good?"

Gina nods vigorously. "The best, in my opinion. I really like it. Would recommend. Twenty out of ten—ten out of five!"

I nod. "Sounds like a good book, I'll check it out when I get a chance."

Gina smiles—and I really, really, really wish I remembered where I knew her from, and didn't just think of her as "cute gym girl with abs" but at least now, it's "cute gym girl with abs who was nice to me at a party."