Free Boys Don't Cry by Malorie Blackman

my family don’t exactly encourage me to be open about it either. Dad just ignores the fact that I’m gay, like it’s some strange beast in the room and if he pays no attention to it, it will just fade away to nothing. And Dante acts like this is some passing fashion I’m wearing this year but which I’ll discard the moment something new comes along.
    For heaven’s sake, I’ve known I was gay since I was thirteen.
    And what’s more, I like it. Scratch that, I love it.
    I just wish Dad and Dante would chill out about it.

15
Dante
    When Dad finally came home, it took him three trips to the car to bring in all the stuff he’d just bought. I swear he came home with three-quarters of the contents of the baby store he’d been to. After ten minutes of unpacking the car, the sitting room was an obstacle course. Leaning against the wall adjacent to the door, a ready-to-assemble cot packed in a box took pride of place; there were enough disposable nappies to soak up all the water in the English Channel, a baby carrier thing that let you carry a baby against your chest arms-free, a bottle of baby bath, baby moisturizer, baby cream for nappy rash and other baby pharmaceuticals, baby cutlery, baby bottles to replace the one Mel had left, a bottle sterilizer, baby bedding, a highchair, a few toys like a soft ball and a teddy bear, a couple of picture books, a dress and other baby clothes, baby booties, baby wipes – baby, baby, baby.
    Adam handed a now-waking Emma back to me and flitted around the room like it was Christmas and every new thing was for him. Blinking like a stunned owl, I looked from Emma to all the stuff such a tiny thingneeded and back again. And that’s when it hit me just how truly clueless I really was.
    ‘This lot must’ve cost a fortune,’ I said, still shocked by the amount Dad had bought.
    ‘I was only going to get a cot, some nappies and a change of clothes,’ said Dad ruefully.
    I stared at him.
    ‘They’re for my granddaughter, OK?’ said Dad. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he was embarrassed. ‘Everything else after this is down to you.’
    Down to me . . . ? I’d be broke inside a week. And all these things . . . Dad had bought this stuff like he thought Emma was staying for a while, a long while. She’d be here a day or two, maybe a week at the very longest – just until I got back the results of the DNA test.
    Emma wriggled in my arms, reaching out with both arms for the stuff on the carpet. From the strange, impatient noises she was making, she was just as excited as Adam.
    ‘She wants you to put her down,’ said Dad. ‘She wants to explore.’
    ‘Is it safe?’
    Dad smiled at me. ‘Yeah, just be ready to pick her up if it looks like she’s about to touch something she shouldn’t.’
    Frowning, I placed the baby on one of the few bare patches of carpet. Emma took off like a shot. I’ve never seen anyone move that fast on all fours! We all burst out laughing, then looked at each other in surprise. It wasn’t often these days that we shared a laugh. I was the first to stop. I was about as far from being in a laughing mood as it was possible to get.
    Emma crawled over to the sofa, then tried to pull herself up. She landed on her bottom twice but she didn’t cry or protest in any way, she just kept trying. Finally she managed to stand, wobbling a bit but staying upright.
    ‘She can walk?’ I asked, amazed.
    ‘Not yet. She can stand though, so walking isn’t too far away,’ said Dad.
    Emma pulled a packet of baby wipes towards her then sat down with a thump, taking the wipes with her. She examined the packaging like it was truly riveting. Moments passed as we all watched her. She was fascinated by something as trivial as baby wipes.
    ‘First things first,’ said Dad after a few moments. ‘We need to sort out the cot. Adam, you can help me make it whilst Dante looks after Emma.’
    Adam’s eyes widened. He pointed to himself. ‘Me? Dad, these are not the