The Inside of Out Read Free Page B

break. Today, wearing a lilac button-down and suit pants, hair ironed flat and tied into a pristine bun, she looked like she was interviewing for a job at a law firm.
    On the right was a girl I’d seen in the halls but never talked to. She was probably a sophomore, but somehow all the guys in the school, no matter their year, acted as if they knew her—intimately. Today, she was wearing what seemed to be her usual wardrobe—beige peasant shirt, thick honeyed side-braid, slouchy skirt, a pendant necklace bearing a huge symbol from a culture I didn’t recognize. If Raina Moore was a lawyer, her tablemate was a pagan milkmaid. Maybe even the goddess of milk. The girl was pretty.
    I shot Hannah a look, but she had her glassy-eyed I’m-meeting-new-people face on. I made a mental note to grill her on her type so I could be a more effective wing woman.
    â€œWelcome!” the milkmaid said, just as Raina asked, “Canwe help you?” Raina’s eyes were narrowed, like we’d walked over with baseball bats and brass knuckles.
    â€œWe’d like to sign up for the Gay-Straight Alliance,” I said.
    â€œWe’re not a GSA.” Raina’s eyebrows rose. “We’re a
gay
alliance.”
    â€œGreat! We’d like to join that. Do you have a list, or—?”
    â€œWe don’t believe in lists,” Raina said, clasping her hands in front of her. “A physical list could be used as a tool by those who seek to categorize, ghettoize, and oppress.”
    I stared at Raina. She stared back. Meanwhile, the milkmaid was staring meditatively at the far wall.
    â€œSo do you keep a
mental
list? I’m Daisy . . . Beaumont . . . Smith. And this—”
    â€œI’m Hannah.” Hannah raised her hand in a tiny wave, and I had to stifle the impulse to cheer. This was a big moment in Hannah’s outness, right? It seemed like it should be a big moment.
    â€œ
Fine
.” Raina sighed, spoiling it. “We meet Tuesdays and Thursdays, Room A2. If you want to come, technically we can’t stop you.”
    â€œThanks so much—we’ll be there!” I beamed at Raina to piss her off, while Hannah waved to the milkmaid, clutched my arm, and steered me away.
    â€œThat was awkward,” she muttered.
    â€œThey were kind of off, weren’t they?” I agreed, then winced. “Not because they’re gay. They didn’t even
seem
gay. I mean, not that you
can
seem gay—”
    â€œDaisy. Stop.” Hannah shoved me, laughing. “Yeah. They were weird. Not gay-weird, weird-weird.”
    â€œCould be good, though,” I said, hip-checking her as we passed through the rest of the booths. “Having people to talk to who understand what you’re going through? And I’ll be there too, as a buffer.”
    â€œYou don’t have to buffer me,” Hannah said, lingering in front of the Chess Club booth. “It’s sweet—”
    â€œIt’s not just for you,” I lied. “It’ll look amazing on my college applications.”
    She squinted dubiously as she scribbled her name onto the Chess Club’s nice, normal, physical sign-up sheet. But just after she set down the pen, she glanced vaguely back at the Alliance table and said, “You’re probably right.”
    As we were walking to bio, I brainstormed ways to ask her which club she was going to choose without making her feel like I was pressuring her. But then Hannah smiled in this intense way that shut me up.
    â€œMoonlight after school?”
    â€œObviously,” I answered. We hadn’t been to the Moonlight Coffee Shop all summer. It was time to reclaim our clubhouse.
    Hannah looked nervous. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
    â€œSure.” I faked a smile. Had Hannah forgotten that she’d already come out to me yesterday? Or . . .
    My throat went dry.
    â€œI’ll,