When it was finally 9, I called Olivia. I had received from each of my friends instructions of when to call them. This was still the pre-social media era, which was getting much closer. My parents were on Facebook, and I know some kids my age were, but it wasn't yet, in my area at least, common for everyone to be.
Now, many kids have cellphones. Marge had one. I had one. We could text each other, but Olivia didn't. So I had to call her landline.
She answered quickly.
"Hello."
"Hey Olivia, I was thinking of coming over to hang out."
She replies with a lot of volume. "Do you know the public library near my house?"
I think. When I bike to her house, I often drive in front of it. When I don't get lost...
"Yeah."
"Let's meet there. I'll leave now."
"Sure," I say, but she hangs up.
I hesitated as to what to wear. I liked that I didn't put on any panties or a bra for a little while, so I just put on a leotard, and on top of it, some jeans and one of my nicest blouses, and I topped it off with a jacket, which I knew could stop any cold wind.
My bike helmet was in the garage, but I grabbed and filled my water bottle in the kitchen, telling my parents I was going to Olivia's place but would see them after lunch at Marge's house.
My dad found a twenty, and I slid it in my pocket; I guess Mom told him when he woke up.
"I'll have my cellphone if there is a problem," I told them.
I was hugged and soon hit the open road of my town.
It wasn't 70 yet, but I wasn't cold. Just good. The wind was soft, but sometimes, a stronger breeze would chill me down. Nothing I couldn't handle, but still.
I saw Olivia standing in front of the public library, wearing her light pink jacket she bought with her own money.
I stop next to her.
"Hey, are you you?" I asked her.
"Could be better. Huge fight between my parents; I had to get out of there."
"Oh no, are you okay?"
"Yeah. My dad just," she sighs. "My mom had to pay the rent again. I think his drinking is getting worse."
"Good thing she has a job now."
"But that's the thing. Anyway, I had to get out of there."
"Ok, shall we go in? I can lock my bike on the rack."
"It only opens in 20 minutes. How about we take a walk?" She says.
I agreed, locked my bike correctly, and we began walking in her neighborhood.
I listened to the fight between her parents, but what I really took from the conversation was a few things. First, that Olivia didn't care. Second, that this kind of fight didn't escalate in her home, unlike with Edith's bio parents. And third, that despite their fighting, her parents seek to preserve the status quo.
If her father wastes less money on alcohol and tries to get closer to his family, her mom pushes him away. If he wastes more money, like today, she pulls him back on. It's like a never-ending spiral of toxicity.
I couldn't judge; I wouldn't really comment. It felt so dysfunctional, and yet, Olivia remained standing.
That morning, I learned a few facets of resilience.
I always thought that resilience was being able to recover from problems efficiently. But Olivia was different. She doesn't recover from problems; she finds a way to avoid them. Not in a lazy, neglectful way.
Her parents were fighting, so she got out of the house to avoid the drama. Her parents were poor, so she tutored, worked part-time, and saved money.
Her parents didn't leave her enough food, so she bought some that they hated so she would have something to eat.
Her resilience was all about avoiding the negative effects of her problems.
I guess that in the fight-or-flight response, her default mode is flight.
Now here is the thing. I realized a while ago that my rules of cool were more or less fake. That the coolest person I knew, Lucy, was cool due to her anxiety and not due to an innate quality of coolness.
But walking with Olivia made me realize that it didn't diminish Lucy in any way. What mattered was the perception of others when it came to being cool.
And Olivia was cool. She was able to embody plenty of rules of cool I had listed.
She self-validated and didn't think about what others thought of her. She lived fully in the present. I don't think she ever expressed real anxiety or depression. Sure, she is sad her parents are like they are, but she soldiers on.
She is very confident, without any real reason to be, but doesn't brag or exaggerate her abilities. She helps others and even goes out of her way for it.
I saw her deflect attacks and refuse to gossip.
All the rules of cool I enumerated, it's like I discovered them so I would recognize them in Olivia.
Because Lucy is cool in a traditional way. Bombshell blonde with a perfect body and super popular at school. But Olivia, while looking nice, isn't a model, and she isn't particularly popular at school. She fades into the background.
But she didn't seem any less cool. Could she even be cooler than Lucy? Because she doesn't care whether she is popular or not?
And like a cool person, she asked me how I was.
I told her I was better and better. I told her about my dance recital idea, and she utterly loved it.
While I didn't provide details, I told her that I would go see Marge and that we were patching things together.
She was happy for me. That's something I never understood from her.
I felt jealousy when Edith arrived, and later, when Marge arrived, and the main reason it calmed down is that I became friends with both of them.
Olivia was cool enough to be happy I had other friends. Like she cared about my socialization.
But then again, I often got the impression that Olivia didn't feel like she lived in this town. That she always has an escape plan. That her presence here was temporary.
Somehow, we made it back to the public library. I guess I didn't pay attention to the road, and I let her lead the way.
My bike was still there, but it was now joined by two others.
We went inside, which is ironic. When we began our walk, it was a little cold, and I would have preferred being inside. By the time it opened, the weather was nicer outside than inside.
Life, when it wants you uncomfortable...
We went into a reading corner. It's a place with beanbags to read a book. We each got a random comic book and just sat next to each other. The book wasn't for reading, I realized. It was a prop. Something to justify our occupation of the place.
We talked. About stupid things, about school, about my dancing, about her job.
When my brain started buzzing, I asked her. "Hey, may I ask you something weird?"
Olivia looked up. "Sure."
"So, uh... a friend told me she's bi." I say, nervously. "She also said she might be... grayromantic? And my mom was talking last night about labels and how sometimes teens use them to explain stuff and sometimes they just... don't need them yet. Not ‘bad,' just... you know. Timing."
Olivia didn't say anything. She flipped her comic book around. "Is your friend okay?"
"She is. She's just figuring herself out." I kept my eyes on my comic book so I wouldn't accidentally say Marge. "I guess I wondered what you think. About labels. Or, like... not labels."
Olivia's mouth did that tiny line it does when she's thinking. She glanced toward the stacks, then back at me. "Um. I haven't told many people this." Her voice got even softer. "I like girls."
I blinked. "Oh."
"Not like, maybe. Like... I do." She put the book down like it was dangerous. "It's not new. I just... don't really talk about it. My house is... not great for talking."
I nodded. "Thank you for telling me." And I meant it. My chest felt tight but warm. "You don't have to use any words if you don't want to. You can just... be Olivia."
She breathed out like she'd been holding it since we sat down. "Well, right now I just know boys have never... clicked. Girls do. I suppose I am gay. That's my label."
"Okay," I said. "Okay," I repeated. I realized I was whispering too loudly because the librarian did the gentle librarian "shh," even though we were already whispering. We both grinned like we'd gotten away with something.
"Does it... change anything?" She asked, eyes on the floor.
"No," I said, too fast, then slower. "No. Except I know you better now. Which is good." I paused for a second. "Do you have, um... someone you like?"
She made the tiniest face. "Maybe. It's complicated."
"Got it. If you ever want to discuss the complicated, I'm not terrible at listening."
"You're actually pretty good," she said.
I nodded.
"I had a girlfriend last year," she said.
"Wait, you did?" I said, again a little too loud, but the librarian wasn't around to scold me.
"Greta," she said, nervous, at a low volume.
My mind almost exploded. Not only was Marge dating her friend Jennifer when I thought they were just friends, but Greta was our friend who grew apart. Remember when I said that I hung out with Olivia's friends last year and that one of them had a crush on Mr. Cook? Well, the other, the one that drifted apart and later moved away, was Greta.
And she was dating Olivia? Was I blind, or were they good at hiding?
"Are you okay with that, Julie? You turned all silent for a second."
"Yeah. You know how my sexuality isn't awake yet because of my delayed puberty. Well, my friend dated a girl I thought was just her friend, and now I learn that Greta wasn't your friend but your girlfriend."
"Well, it's more complicated than that. We were friends first. Then we began dating and, later, broke up but couldn't just remain friends. It was a mess, but you were on Ritalin, and I think you noticed anything."
"I guess so, sorry. I wish I had been there for you."
"What are you talking about? You were."
"I was?"
"Yeah. I told you I was feeling blue but didn't want to talk about it. We had that sleepover at your place. Don't you remember?"
"Wait, that's what happened? You should have told me; I would have understood."
"And how was I supposed to know that? Don't you think I am not aware that if I come out to my parents, the best-case scenario is that I am kicked out on the street, and the worst case is that I never get the chance to ever leave the house again."
"You think they would keep you locked up?"
"That's not what I was hinting at, Julie."
"Oh." Got it loud and clear. She fears for her life. Shit, is that why she is saving up money? Wow. I can understand so much now. Maybe she loves math because it's not discriminating at all.
"Well, I fully accept you. And what my mom told me this morning is that my family would fully accept me if I were gay, or bi, or whatever. So that means that they would also accept you."
"I am happy for you, Julie. When you do start to like boys, you'll know that you are safe. Don't think that it's just because I am gay that I fear my parents. Even if I had a boyfriend, I am not sure that they would accept it."
"Yeah, you got a raw deal."
"You can say that."
We went back to our books, actually reading them to cut the tension. Except now the silence felt different, lighter.
After a while, she closed her book. "Thanks," she said. "For... being normal about it."
"I don't know if anyone has ever called me normal," I said, "but you're welcome."
She had to go eat, and I had to get to Marge. At the door, she hesitated. "Hey. If your friend ever wants to talk to another person figuring stuff out, you can tell her I'm around. You can perhaps out me if they are quiet about it. They might feel isolated. I know I do."
"I will," I said.
Outside, the air was even warmer. We split at the bike rack. "See you tomorrow at school," she said.
"Yeah," I said. "See you."
That was heavy. But I think it brought me closer to Olivia. Sometimes, I think that shared activities bring friends together. But shared secrets and confidences bring them closer.
Of course I didn't mind that she was gay. What did it change in my life? If the boy I liked was gay, it was a problem; I couldn't date him. But Olivia was my friend and a girl.
I would offer Marge someone to talk to. Hey, Olivia knows Marge, and maybe she isn't clueless and knows that Marge is bisexual. Could Olivia have a crush on her? Is that the complicated thing? I know guys find Marge hot; perhaps Olivia does too?
Would I mind if they dated? Maybe not. Olivia needs good parents, and maybe, just maybe, Ellie and a newly refreshed Richard could offer sanctuary to Olivia in the same way we offered one to Edith.
But whom am I kidding? They barely know each other. They aren't in the same grade. It's not like Edith, Mindy, and Marge, who have group projects together from which I am excluded. Even when Marge ate with Olivia and me at school while I was on Ritalin, it was mostly in silence: I wasn't there to talk to them, and they didn't know each other.
The odds are it's a girl I know from our classes. Probably one I dismiss as being a "background character" in my story.
I make it to Marge far too early, so I turn before her street and turn around in another section. I can't risk arriving while they are eating lunch, forcing me to eat.
I am hungry, but I now have enough experience to ignore that hunger.
When it's finally 1:20, I park my bike behind Marge's house and text her that I am at her place. There are cars everywhere, including my father's.
I don't have time to get in. She runs outside, wearing only a bathrobe.
"Julie, I am so happy you came."
"Of course. Hey, before we get inside. I wanted to get back to what you told me yesterday about being bi."
"I am not sure if I am."
"No, I know, but I saw Olivia this morning. I didn't tell her about you, but she told me she was gay and that if you wanted to talk to her, you could. That I could out her to my friend."
"Julie?"
"Yes, Marge?"
"I knew she was gay. I had sex with Greta."
"Wait, you had sex with Olivia's ex?"
"Yeah, I was her rebound after she broke up with Olivia. It's why I don't like her. She hurt Greta."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"You were on Ritalin, we were barely speaking, and it's not my place to out anyone."
"Is there anything else I missed while on Ritalin?"
"A ton, Julie. A ton. That's my point. You weren't there," she says, raising her tone.
"Well, I am now. Let's get inside so we can both be nude and reconnect."
Mindy smiled. I still have it. I can still calm her from a tantrum.
When we get inside, the house is packed! While I looked around, Marge put her bathrobe on a hook by the door.
Not only are Ellie, Richard, my parents, Gabriella, her husband Mateo, Carmen, and her husband there, but Jaclyn is too. But not Piper, and Carmen's kids are not there either. And then, at the back, I notice that James is there, Billie's father, and an older man I saw in the pool. The one he was playing badminton with.
The adults are split between the living room and the kitchen, with lists of names. Everyone is nude.
My mom spots me first and comes to see me.
"Are you okay, kiddo?" She says.
"I am. I'll tell you tonight about it, but everything is fine," I say.
She smiles.
When I am trying to go to Marge's room to undress, Gabriella talks to me.
"Hey, Julie, nice to see you. I love that jacket on you."
"Thanks, I was about to undress too. I came to see Marge."
"Good. Friends are important."
"I have a theme for my dance for the recital."
"Oh, I have to hear that. Maybe I can stay after the meeting if you want to talk and Marge doesn't mind?"
"Sure. I'll be here. I came on my bike."
"Hey, my husband has a minivan. If you want a ride back with your bike in the minivan, I can do that."
I looked at her. She looked so positive. I can feel the love she has for me; it's great to have such a great mentor.
I thanked her and went to Marge's room.
I undressed while Marge put some music on a Bluetooth speaker from her phone.
"They are being so noisy."
"Is Edith here?"
"She was with Charlie, but they went to your house. Maybe we should have gone too."
"Bah, as long as I am with you. It's all that matters."
She thanked me as I sat nude on her bed. She sits next to me.
"I've missed you. The real you."
"I missed being the real me," I say, but I don't know exactly what she means. Is it that I am nude or that I am emotionally available?
"So, who else is gay that I don't know about but should?" I ask.
"Gay? Full-on? There is Jay."
I laugh. "I know about Jay. Come on, that's a low-hanging fruit."
"Well, there are a lot more bisexual or bicurious girls than you suspect, but all in the closet."
"Ex-partner of yours?"
"Or of my partners, or to whom I said no. I don't sleep with just anyone."
"Right. I didn't assume that. So, is there anything big I missed?"
She thinks. "Mr. Cook came once to the non-landed club... with his wife."
"Shut up, he is married?"
"Full on. She wears a wedding ring; he doesn't. He lost it while jogging. It just fell from his finger."
"But your mom dated him?"
"I know! And I have no idea how that could possibly have occurred."
I was thinking. I remember a story my father read to me. It was sci-fi, but what struck me was one of the characters.
"Oh maybe he likes being seduced, skirting the border between flirting and infidelity."
Marge nodded. "Maybe. She did tell me that they just went to a few restaurant dates. Nothing serious."
"It's still cheating, isn't it?"
"How should I know!"
"Going to a restaurant with a hot man while you are married, and he is married, is cheating, isn't it?" I clarify.
"I guess it is. And I don't have him as a teacher, so I don't get the fuss. He is too old for us."
"Right, you told me that. Does his wife know about your mom?"
"I have no idea. I didn't speak to her, but my mom did."
"Awkward. " I say.
"The whole situation is awkward," says Marge.
I think. "There is another option."
"Huh?"
"Maybe he dated your mom a few years ago, met that girl afterward, and married her quickly?"
"I like that," says Marge.
There is a pause.
"I want to say something awkward. But I don't want to sound like my brother once did."
"Huh?" I say.
"I'll just say it. I like your breasts."
"Oh. Thanks?" I say, confused.
"I realize that you stopped being a naturist before you got them. And you only returned to it yesterday, I think."
"Yeah, only yesterday."
"So no one had really seen them, and I thought I should say something. Because when someone says I have gorgeous breasts, I like it. And I think you have nice ones and that maybe you would like hearing it. That maybe nobody ever said anything, and I find that sad."
"Thank you, Marge. I appreciate it."
She sighs. "I have to say something else. I do find you hot, but you are my best friend. So I am not attracted to you, but that doesn't feel nice."
I laugh. "Marge?"
"Don't laugh at me."
"I am not. You are funny. Thank you for saying that. I still need to lose a little weight, but I am getting there."
"You are almost there."
"But not quite. I don't know whether I am demisexual, asexual, or graysexual. Wait, what's fully sexual?"
"Allosexual," says Marge.
"Weird. Ok, so I don't know. But seeing how I was a little attracted to Mr. Cook, I think I will be straight. It's boys I want to discover. It's always been boys."
"I know."
We couldn't use the TV in her living room to play video games, so she grabbed one of her favorite board games to play with her brother, Race for the Galaxy.
It's not the first time she's brought it out. She tried while I was on Ritalin, and I couldn't follow.
The reality isn't that it's a complicated game. It's that it's a COMPLICATED game.
Fine, I'll talk about it. The goal is to have the most points when the first player builds their 12th card. So it's a race to 12 cards, because the more cards you have, the more points you can have.
There are two types of cards: planets and development cards. There are two main types of planets, military and non-military.
You need to spend cards to place development cards and non-military ones and use military power from other cards to conquer the military ones.
Most normal planets, military or not, can produce goods that you can later sell for victory points, cards, or both.
Windfall planets, however, start with their goods, so it's an immediate bonus.
You play over 5 phases. Draw more cards, build developments, settle planets, consume goods on your planets, and finally, produce goods on your empty planets that can produce goods.
That's just about the base of the game.
The problem starts with the phase selection. We don't play all 5 phases. We each need to select 2 of the 6 phase cards (Explore, which lets you draw, has two variants). We only perform the phases that one of us selected. If no one selected Explore, no one is drawing. If only one of us selects Explore, they get the special power on the card, while the other only picks one card between two that have been drawn.
That means that if you don't explore, you run out of cards fast, but if you do explore, you can't do much more. It's a migraine-inducing, mind-melting game that sits perfectly in the multidimensional thinking that Marge is good at.
Add that each card does something different and that some look good but are bad in the long term, and you have a game that needs a lot of brainpower. Something that Ritalin couldn't help me with.
For example, Expanding Colony appears to be a great card. It costs 1 to settle, produces blue resources (the least valued), and can bring 1 victory token for any resource. Not bad at first look. But you only get 12 cards, and that one only gives one victory point and doesn't do much.
Well, Marge knows exactly which cards she wants, and I don't. She will often use the Explore +5 card to cycle through the deck and get that perfect card. Meanwhile, I prefer the Explore +1,+1 card, which gives me two cards, but with little choice.
Just that adds a lot of complication.
We play a few rounds, and while I struggle at the start, I get in the groove. Not enough to win, but enough to not be destroyed by Marge.
We played another game, and I was pretty darn close. I was starting to get it. I was finally happy that I could go deep without the Ritalin. That I could juggle all of that together.
Now, it never became a favorite of mine. I knew no one else who liked it. Even Edith couldn't be convinced by Charlie to try it.
But I think the little I did play brought Marge and me closer to one another.
When we were done, we went to grab glasses of water, and I noticed that most people had left. Only my parents, Marge's parents, and both Gabriella and Mateo were left.
My father asked me if everything was ok, and I told him I was just thirsty.
Ellie ended up getting us the glasses, while Marge filled them from their water dispenser.
"Marge, would you mind if I borrowed your friend for a few minutes to talk about her ideas for the dance recital?" Asks Gabriella.
"I can give you 5 minutes. I need to drink and stop at the restroom," says Marge. This made Gabriella laugh, but it's a gentle laugh.
My dad was in a long talk about testosterone gel with Richard, who was holding a little packet, with Mateo following the conversation. Ellie and Mom were talking about a chicken recipe. Two boring adult conversations.
Gabriella went with me in the living room, where I told her my idea.
"That is even better than I expected, Julie. Where do you get these ideas? You should write later, as an adult. You are full of creativity," she said, almost making me blush.
"It just came to me."
"You wouldn't have to mime."
"What do you mean?"
"We have laser pointers at school. I know they are rarely used, but the school got them to highlight the chalkboards while explaining, and most teachers prefer the long rulers. It's more, I don't know, tactile. And it makes a satisfying sound on the board."
One that most students hate but that does bring us to attention.
"But," she continues, "we have the lasers. We could place them so you could do your choreography between them and put a fog machine or two; they really pop out the laser. It would be epic, Julie."
I smile. Teenagers want adults to understand their needs. This wasn't just understanding; this was going well above and beyond.
I was almost crying with joy, so I did something I shouldn't have. I leaned forward and hugged her. Even if we were both nude.
"Oh," she says, shocked, but she hugged me back.
"Thank you so much," I told her, breaking the hug.
"Warn me next time... I...."
"Sorry, I got emotionally overwhelmed."
"No, it's ok, Julie. You did nothing wrong. I can't hug you, but I don't want to stifle you emotionally, not after a pill did that to you."
Marge came back, and I thanked Gabriella by name for the support, and we went back to Marge's room.
Honestly, I didn't want to play a third game of Race for the Galaxy. I had more than enough for a day, so instead, we took her Zombie Dice and a food tray she keeps under her bed.
"I use it when I study. I place it upside down, and it's a good lap desk."
I won the first game, Marge won the second, and I won the final one. It's not purely luck; there is a press-your-luck element, and I was just more conservative than Marge. She took more chances and lost more rounds but made more points when she won. I made fewer points but scored on most of my runs.
For the third game, however, Marge was ahead of me, and I just went full-on press your luck. I had to win that round, or Marge would win. It shocked her that I became so careless, but I won the game thanks to it.
My parents came to tell me goodbye, and neither of them commented on my hug.
Marge and I went to the living room, booted up her Wii U, and set to play some Mario Kart.
To my absolute surprise, a third player joined us: Mateo, who is Gabriella's husband.
Ellie and Gabriella each sat on a towel behind us, and Richard went somewhere. I didn't pay attention to it.
All I know is that when either Mateo or I did something nice, Gabriella would comment on it, while if Marge did, Ellie would comment.
I almost felt like the two women were in a competition, and Marge was Ellie's driver while Mateo and I were for Gabriella.
Was I wrong to think that for a moment, I felt like Gabriella was my surrogate mother on the occasion?
Either way, Marge was usually 3rd, with Mateo and me fighting for first place.
He actually high-fived me each time that I placed first, and the one time that he finished third behind Marge, he high-fived her too.
It's Gabriella who ended the races by reminding Mateo that they had a supper date with friends.
"Right. The reservation is at 5. Why is it that early?"
"I didn't make it."
They repeated their invitation to drop me at my house, and I agreed, dressing back in Marge's room, alone. I offered for her to follow me, but she admitted to being socially tired.
When I came out, both Mrs. Sanchez and Mateo were dressed, but I was shocked to find Mrs. Sanchez in a sundress. She looked rather hot.
I hugged Marge with her permission and wished her a good evening. She thanked me for coming. I thanked her for the time.
Mateo put the bike in his minivan, which is filled with equipment.
I sat behind him so that Mrs. Sanchez could make eye contact when talking to me.
"Sorry for the mess; Mateo is an architect, and these are his tools when he is supervising a build."
"I mostly work for small contractors, so to make more money, I am often their foreman."
"That is really cool," I said. "Any projects in town that I know?" I asked.
"Yes, the building where we live! I designed it, and the one on the other side of the city line"
I decided to joke, knowing it might not land well. "So it's your fault our city is becoming a suburb."
For a second, it's like there was a pause. I doubt that I used the proper tone. So I let out a little laugh.
Mrs. Sanchez laughed too, but only when I did. "Guilty as charged. He saw your quaint little town and thought, What can I do to ruin it? I know, put nice condos where an old, cute, decrepit industrial park was," she said, laughing.
I wanted to impress her with my wit, so I added.
"Hey, my grandfather built that industrial park with his bare hands. Razing that park erased his legacy."
Mateo immediately apologized, so I said. "I am kidding. My grandfather was a cook."
Mrs. Sanchez laughed more than I had ever heard her laugh. "Wow, Julie, that was hilarious"
"It was pretty funny," said Mateo, laughing.
I don't know if I was hilarious, but yeah. It was funny.
"Wait, don't you need to know where I live?"
"Oh, Steven gave me the address while at Ellie's house."
I decided to try an opening.
"So Mr. Cook went to the non-landed club with his wife?" I said.
"Yeah, I had been pestering him ever since I arrived. They make such a cute couple. It's with them we are eating supper."
"Really?" I say, surprised.
"Double date. It's fun. When you get a boyfriend, maybe you'll want to go on a date with Edith and Charlie."
"Maybe. I am not ready for that. Do you know how long they have been together?" I ask, which is my real agenda? To know if he was cheating on his wife.
Mrs. Sanchez laughs. " 7 years and 6 months."
"So seven and a half years?" I say. He did cheat on her.
"No, they have been together for only 6 months, after 2 years of separation. They had been together for 7 years before that, and they were engaged."
"Oh, and they broke up? Did he cheat on her?"
"What? No, he never would. She got a job on the West Coast, and he couldn't find one there. They decided to call it quits, and six months ago, she came back. She lost her job and wanted to get married now, regretting the time apart."
So he didn't cheat on her with Ellie.
"Wow, quite a story."
"Quite a man. Not my style, but charming," she said, putting her hand on Mateo's thigh.
He is...
I was dropped in front of my house soon enough. Mrs. Sanchez wished me a good evening and looked forward to our next practice. "With leotards this time."
I smiled, thanked them for the lift, and got home.