Free The Petty Details of So-And-So's Life by Camilla Gibb Page B

about me?”
    â€œKinda,” Blue winced a little guiltily.
    â€œBut what the hell is a hermaphrodite?”
    â€œFuck if I know. Some kind of lezzy fag or something.”
    â€œSeriously?” she moaned, her eyes welling up with tears.
    â€œOh, don’t let it upset you,” Blue said. “You know they’re just idiots.”
    â€œI know, but still …”
    â€œDon’t worry, I don’t believe them.”
    â€œBut do you stick up for me?”
    â€œIf I was bigger, I’d punch their fuckin’ heads in. But seeing as I’m not, I’ve just gotta ignore them.”
Wimp
, he could hear his father saying.
Sissy. Mama’s boy. Afraid to get a little blood on your shirt?
    My tough little man, Emma thought, and burst into tears.
    Blue pressed his forehead against hers. When they’d been at the same school he’d held her hand and followed her around so she wouldn’t feel like she was alone. They used to tease her, tell her she had hairy legsand was a loser. He wanted her to feel like she had a best friend. Later they called her a lezzy and she thought boys didn’t like her because she was fat. But he liked her and he was a boy. They kissed under the front porch so that she’d know boys did want to kiss her even though she knew kissing your brother didn’t count. Now she was looking skinny and strange and hanging out with a lezzy faggot. He didn’t know what else he could do. He didn’t know how else to protect her.
    For the last dance of their grade nine year, Max dyed her hair black and wore a white polo shirt reeking of Stetson. She and Emma got modestly drunk beforehand on the tequila they drank out of a Mason jar marked “Black Currant 1975,” while crammed into a phone booth at the intersection down the road from the school.
    â€œLook, the lezzies are here in drag,” mocked a pack of puke-skinned boys as they walked up the stairs to the gym.
    Mrs. Salerno, the gym teacher, stood there like a soldier, saying, “Spot check for alcohol, drugs, and weapons.”
    Emma was alarmed. “When did this become a prison?” she asked Max.
    â€œWhen Mrs. Salerno decided she didn’t like me,” Max groaned, standing with her legs apart and putting her arms in the air so Mrs. Salerno could do her customs-official number.
    â€œForget it, Helen,” Emma heard Max mutter to Mrs. Salerno under her breath.
    â€œI think we’ve got one here,” Mrs. Salerno said, gesturing to her colleagues. “Feels like she’s packing a pistol.”
    Emma watched in horror as Mrs. Salerno started unzipping Max’s pants. “Hey! You can’t do that!” Emma shouted, but then her jaw dropped as something blue and rubbery fell to the floor.
    â€œOh my God,” Mr. Mackenzie, the chemistry teacher, said, stepping back from the object on the floor.
    Emma inched forward and stared at it, thinking, What the hell is that? “Don’t worry, it’s not loaded,” Max said, rolling her eyes.
    â€œI don’t know what that is exactly,” said Mr. Mackenzie, remembering he was supposed to be an authority, “but I’m sure it’s against regulations.”
    â€œI don’t know if you actually have school rules about this,” said Max.
    â€œThat’s enough, young lady—person—whatever you are,” he shouted. “I think you and the Russian girl should just leave.”
    â€œOh, don’t worry. I’m outta here,” Max said, jumping down the stairs three at a time. “Like forever!” she shouted. She only turned around when she’d reached the bottom of the stairs to ask Emma if she was coming. Emma hesitated, and then bolted down the stairs after her, although she knew the era of Oksana and Max was all downhill from there. There were just too many things she didn’t understand. Being a Russian princess wasn’t all rubles and