Two more weeks. I exhale and stare at the sky while I wait for my bus. Two more weeks and then you can be out of here. Two more weeks and school’s out FOREVER. I glance up as I hear the bus brakes squeal to a stop in front of me and the four other students at my bus stop. The bus is, as per usual, a jungle gym. Stepping over feet and bags, avoiding the gum, food, and mysterious liquids, turning up my music volume to block out the loud students that sound like the monkey section of the zoo. I sit down in the back, as per usual, and pull out my notebook and pencil. I write furiously for the next fifteen minutes on the bumpy ride to school. My fantasy book won’t be like anyone else’s. This will be a true tragedy, the beautiful main character dying before their (forced) fiance has the chance to tell them he truly loves them. Three minutes before I get to school I shove my book into my pocket and tuck my pencil behind my ear, where i gets held in place by my long curly hair. Leaning back into the plasticey seat, I sigh and turn my music to full volume, Luminary by Joel Sunny blasting through my head, leading me into the fantasy world of my creation. Shouldering my backpack, I step out of the bus and into the doors of the hellhole the government calls ‘School.’ 

* * * * * 

I walk home from my bus stop, exhaustion creeping through each of my limbs. My little one-room flat is heaven compared to that massive building crowded with people. I have enough time for a thirty minute nap before I have to get ready for work. My alarm screams me awake and I jump, falling off of my cot and hitting my head on the desk I, so intelligently, placed next to it. I throw on my shirt and glasses, quickly wetting my hair and style it in a way that looks slightly appealing, a basic messy man-bun, and grab my headphones. 

I grab my messenger bag and run out the door, praying I get to the bus on time. I’d rather not have to get my Mo-ped out of the apartment and down the stairs. 

“Afternoon, boss.” I smile at the boy, Atticus. My age, homeschooled, who works at the bakery with his mother, father, and sister. “Afternoon, Felix.” He glances at me. His green eyes feel like they can see right through my soul. “I’m not late, am I?” I shoot a look at the clock, seeing it ten minutes before my shift starts. “Oh, thank the stars.” I mutter. I put my bag down on the table in the breakroom and grab my apron from the hooks that line the wall next to the door. “Good Afternoon, Mr. Bonfils.” I announce my presence to the squat little man that stands by the cash register. “Good afternoon, Felix. You’re helping Atty in the kitchen today.” He smiles at me and waves me through the door behind him. “Sounds perfect!” I reappear next to Atticus, who is dutifully stirring some kind of batter. A list of pastries we need to restock on hangs on the massive fridge. Top of the list, Almond Croissants, is already crossed off, so that’s what Atticus must be working on. I move down the list, finding Cornish Pasties next on the paper. Pulling out my ingredients, I set up my baking station next to the other boy’s and get to work. 

I wash the rest of the dough off of my hands. We left the rest of the dough to rise and hung up our aprons, then going to the courtyard behind the bakery with Mrs. Bonfils’ homemade mango popsicles. I suck on the popsicle happily, feeling the hot sun beating down on my dark hair. “You’re lucky, you know? I’d kill to have blonde hair like you. You don’t get hot as easily.” Atticus smirks at me. “Ah, I see. You want to be a basic blondie with blue eyes. No, you’d fit the ‘dumb blonde’ stereotype too easily.” His banter dies down and his smirk slips into a smile. “Besides, your black hair is pretty. It makes your eyes stand out, along with your freckles.” I smile at him, too. “Well, thank you, but in summer it’s murderous to have hair like this. Long, thick, black hair makes me overheat even when I’m wearing a tanktop.” He laughs, then turns to face me. “How about we go down to the beach tonight? My friends are throwing a bonfire at sunset, you should come hang out with us!” “Oh man, I’d love to, but you know I’m not good with crowds.” I explain while gazing at the grass in embarrassment. He laughs again. “No worries, Lix! There’ll only be four other people there.” He teases, “No need to worry about your big crowds.”  “Oh, good. Okay, I’ll go then.” I reply with a little grin. I trail him back inside so we can finish up our work. 

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* * * * *

“Mama, Pappa, We’re gonna go down to the beach!” Atticus calls up the stairs to his parents. “Alright, hun.” Mrs. Bonfils answered. “Be back before three, and if you get drunk call us to come pick you up.” “Yes, Ma’am!” He responds, a charming smile on his face as he turns to me. “You ready to go?” I nod, my hands flicking back and forth nervously. He puts a hand on my shoulder to help me calm down. “Hey, chill out felix. They’ll love you.” We start walking through the twisted streets of Rome. “This’ll be your first time at the beach since you got top surgery, right?” “Yep. I’m fully healed now, so I don’t need to worry about getting salt water into the incisions though.” I reply with a smile. “Oh, good I was worried about that. Say, do you want me to tell the others that you’re non-binary?” He questions. “Oh, um, Sure? I guess it’ll be better if they know my pronouns.” “sweet.” He pulls out his phone and sends a text, which I can assume is telling his friends  about my pronouns. “Hey, um.” He turns to me with a quizzing look. “Thanks for being so calm about, you know, my gender, and sexuality, and stuff.” “Of course. It’s not my place to judge you, man.” He smiles at me gently. “Plus, I’m queer anyways. Most of my friends are, too.” “Oh! Oh, um, cool. I didn’t know that.” He peeks at me for a moment. “Yeah, not many people do.” “And your parents, they’re okay with it?” “Yeah, as long as I’m safe and happy, they say.” “Oh.” I feel jealousy burning under my skin. “That must be nice.” Atticus smiles at me and speeds up, gaining speed until he reaches a full sprint by the time he reaches the  sand. I run after him, but his stamina is amazing, and I’m out of breath by the time I reach the edge of the beach. Atticus is waving his arm and charging towards another small group of teenagers further down the beach clustered around a small fire. A girl smiles at him and waves. One guy stands up and starts running towards Atticus until they get close enough to tackle each other and wrestle each other into the sand. Another guy and an extremely androgynous person start walking towards me, as i’ve now recovered my breath and have started walking towards the fire as well. “Hey,” the guy calls to me. “You must be Felix, Atticus’ friend. I’m Cyrus, This is julius, the girl is Lucia, and The meathead with Atticus is Matteo.” I smile awkwardly at them, “Nice to meet you guys.” Cyrus smiles at me brightly. “Come put your stuff down by the fire. We have some Processo, Limoncello, and even some Negroni if you want any. We also have some cigarettes from America, Carbello or something.” I smile again, less nervous now. “I won’t say no to a quick smoke.” I walk with them to the fire and put my messenger bag into an empty chair. Lucia passes me a cup of Limoncello. “Welcome, you gotta be Felix.” She smiles and looks me up and down. “Damn, I can see why Atticus likes you, you’re a cute one.” My face goes hot and I stare at the glass in my hands. “Th-thank you?” “Bah,” she chuckles, “don’t be shy, the love of my life is already mine.” She cups the hip of Julius and kisses their cheek gently. They turn tomato red and look away. “Babe!” Cyrus shouts towards the wrestling boys, “You’re going to fall into the ocean!” Matteo’s head pops out of the squirming bodies and smiles cheekily at Cyrus, then kicks Atticus into the sea and runs back to the fire, a sopping wet Atticus chasing after him. He grabs Cyrus’ waist and ducks behind him, squealing and laughing as Atticus skids to a stop in front of them. Atticus walks over to him, pouting, and hugs him around his waist. “Lixyyyyy.” He whines, “They’re being mean to meee.” I feel my face flush again and I pat his back. “There, there, you’ll emotionally recover some day.” Lucia raises her eyebrow and gives me a quizzing look. Cyrus speaks exactly what she’s thinking. “Are you two.. Dating?”