Adam Read Free Page A

know because Casey was the perfect child. Their roles in the family were immutable: Casey was perfect and Adam was troubled. Adam knew Casey loved him, but he also knew she loved being better than him. It wasn’t that their parents were
homophobic
—it was just that
other
people were gay, and people in their family happened not to be. “Also, I wouldn’t want Mom to tell Dad. The idea of him thinking about me having ‘lesbian sex’ makes me want to vomit.” Casey saying this had, of course, put the image of Casey having “lesbian sex” in Adam’s mind, though he also wasn’t entirely sure what that was. And as wrong as it felt, he was curious.
    It was last summer the night it happened. Adam’s parents were out at “dinner and a movie” for one of their biannual pathetic attempts at romance. Casey and Sam were watching TV in the living room, and Adam had invited Brad over. When he went downstairs to let Brad in, Casey was sitting in Sam’s lap, and Sam’s hands were around Casey’s waist, under her shirt.
    â€œGet out of here!” said Casey.
    â€œI’m just getting Brad,” said Adam.
    â€œWell, hurry up!”
    When Sam was over, Casey acted as if she ruled the house.
    â€œâ€™Sup,” said Brad, walking in and leering at Casey and Sam. Casey ignored him. She didn’t like Brad. “Guys like Brad make me thank god I’m gay,” she would say.
    Adam and Brad went to his room, where they hung around doing nothing, being bored. It was around the time that stuff had first started feeling weird with Brad. They had always been best friends—since fourth grade—but for some reason it had begun to feel like whenever they hung out alone, Brad didn’t really want to be there. Like hanging out with Adam was an obligation or something.
    â€œYou think they’re fucking down there?” Brad asked.
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œHer girlfriend’s kinda mannish, but whatever.”
    They heard Casey and Sam come up the stairs and go into Casey’s bedroom next door. Brad smirked and raised his eyebrows. Then a song started blasting from Casey’s room.
    â€œShit. How the fuck are we supposed to hear anything now?” said Brad.
    â€œGross,” said Adam.
    Brad picked up a Sharpie off the floor and scribbled on his shoe. Adam tried to think of something else to say, to suggest something for them to do, but everything he thought of seemed dumb. The song from Casey’s room played on, highlighting Adam and Brad’s silence. It never used to be this way with them. It was uncomfortable, awkward.
    â€œI actually know how we could maybe watch,”
Adam imagined telling Brad.
No. He would never.
    â€œI actually know how we could maybe watch,” said Adam.
    â€œNo shit, Freedman.”
    Adam said nothing.
    â€œWell?” said Brad.
    â€œNever mind.”
    â€œCome on, you just said you know how we could watch.”
    Fuck it. He was in it now.
    â€œTake off your shoes,” said Adam. He looked around, even though there was no one else in the room.
    â€œYeah, OK,” said Brad. He quickly started to unlace.
    Adam took off his own shoes and stood up. “Now, whatever you do, do not make
any
fucking noise.” As much as he hated himself, Adam was enjoying being the one to boss Brad. It was always the other way around.
    The two of them crept out of Adam’s room and softly padded down the hall past Casey’s bedroom. Brad lingered by her door for a moment, but Adam waved him on, pointing down the stairs. Brad gave a quizzical look but followed. They walked through the living room and into the kitchen to the door that led to the backyard.
    Outside it was dark and cold, and Adam realized how fast his heart was racing. Their house was built on a hill, so the backyard was a slope that led up to Casey’s bedroom window. As they walked up the hill, Adam could feel his