Free Born That Way by Susan Ketchen Page B

wouldn’t be so bad if I had a computer in my room like Taylor. I could stay awake all night playing Tetris and doing internet searches. Then again, why couldn’t I do this anyway?
    I crack open my door and sneak a look down the hallway. No lights, no noise. I tiptoe down to the family room where the computer is in sleep mode like everyone else except me. I turn it on and while I’m waiting for the start-up functions to finish I swivel in the chair and think through the things I need to look up. There’s that Hamlet stuff. Unicorns I’ve had enough of for now, I don’t want anything scary. Definitely no more wee-gee. That takes me back to barnacles, and I remember that when I’d looked up bisexual in the dictionary it hadn’t been much help. So I type it into Google which takes me to Wikipedia and thank goodness this time no photographs pop up. But it’s not all that interesting either. I find a reference to bisexuality in non-human animals and click on that, but there’s no mention of barnacles. I go back to the main Google page for other sites, and there are bisexual playgrounds and bisexual chat groups and bisexual support groups. I blearily click on each one, then hit the back button because there’s nothing that interesting. No bisexual ponies. As a matter of fact it all looks pretty boring. I am very tired. I can hardly keep my eyes open. Still it’s a good time to do research with no one peering over my shoulder for a change, so I feel some need to take advantage of the time. After all, I have my campaign to consider, which leads me to thinking I could use some new ideas about gorilla marketing so I type that into the query box and Google says, “Did you mean guerilla?” This is so embarrassing. All that time I’ve been saying “gorilla” and it’s supposed to be “guerilla”. Quietly I say each word aloud, wondering if people noticed me using the wrong term. They don’t sound much different. I may have gotten away with it. I try to remember how many people I spoke to saying “gorilla” but I’m so tired my brain folds in on itself. I try to play Tetris but my coordination is off, and then I play Solitaire but this is even more boring than Wikipedia so finally I give up, turn off the computer and sneak back to my room.
    As soon as I’m there I feel scared again, which wakes me up a little. Plus it’s cold, even with my sweater and socks on.
    I promise myself that I will stay awake if I only put my legs under the covers. I won’t lie down, I’ll prop myself on my pillows and sit up all night. There’s a bit of light coming from my clock radio, not enough to read by but enough to look at the pictures in my equestrian supply catalogue. I retrieve it from the stack of Archie comics, then sit in bed and turn the pages as quietly as I can.
    I guess I nod off for a second without knowing it, because I wake with a start and the catalogue is gone and I’m lying flat out under the covers and I feel with my foot that there is someone sitting on the end of my bed. A shadowy figure is outlined against the curtains. My heart is going a hundred miles an hour and I try to scream but I can’t. I can’t move a muscle, somehow I’ve become a paraplegic and I’m frozen in bed, exactly where an axe-murderer would want me.
    â€œHey.” It’s a woman’s voice, which is not what I would expect for an axe-murderer. In fact it’s a voice I recognize. It’s Kansas.
    I move my eyes around searching for an open window or door, but everything is sealed tight. I don’t know how she broke in here, but then again I’m so glad to see her I don’t care.
    â€œHaving a tough night?”
    I manage a nod. The paralysis seems to be receding.
    She smiles understandingly. I can see her face now, there is more light in the room. Maybe the moon has come up.
    â€œThere’s something you