Everything seemed different after that walk. It was as if I had taken in my first breath of fresh air after a lifetime of living in smog. My addled nerves had settled down. Things just felt better.

Lana seemed different too. She didn't ask me another question for the rest of the day. And once eighth period ended, she told me she was going to take the evening off.

"Where are you staying?" I asked as I walked with her towards the bus.

"Not too far," she said. "At the Marriott at the edge of town. I made a deal with someone high up in the company in the '50s, so I get free lodging whenever I'm on Earth. And complimentary champagne." She smiled, waving at me as I climbed onto the bus. "See you tomorrow!" And just like that, we parted ways.

I was free.

It felt surreal, and yet I wasn't going to take this time for granted. As the bus jostled down the street, I planned out my afternoon. First, a shower, I thought. A really nice, really long shower. And then, some popcorn and Disney Plus. We had a test on Hamlet the next day, so I was pretty sure I could get away with watching The Lion King instead of actually studying—the story is essentially the same.

But as the bus turned onto my street, my phone buzzed. I glanced down and saw a text from Taylor.

Hey, her text read. Can you come over after school? I really need to talk to you.

I know you're not supposed to read tone through text messages—it's how arguments start—but I was immediately worried. Something sounded off.

Yeah of course, I'll be there in a bit, I said. Then, remembering she was sick, I added, Do you want me to bring you anything? Gatorade? Soup?

I saw three dots as Taylor took her time typing something back. I waited a good three minutes, expecting a long response. When it finally came through, though, it just said, No.

I had always found Taylor's house somewhat amusing. Not because it was garishly hideous or full of clowns, but because it was so normal. It had always made me wonder how someone as creative and as different as Taylor had come out of it.

Her mother was somewhat neurotic. She was the kind of mom that kept a detailed list of all the phone numbers of anyone who had ever come in contact with her daughter, and she called Taylor at least once every time she left the house. She kept the house smelling of artificial lemon—It's all the Lysol, Taylor had explained the first time I had ever come over—and she decorated the walls with abstract watercolor paintings from the 80s and those framed inspirational quotes you can buy at Target.

That said, some of Taylor's artwork had bled out of her bedroom and made their way onto the upstairs hallway walls. Her mom had selected the more "appropriate" pieces for this privilege: the landscapes and still lifes that were usually class assignments.

         Taylor had left the front door unlocked for me, which is how I found myself in that upstairs hallway, staring at a painting of a dried bouquet of flowers. I remember this one in particular because the day she had brought it home, her mother had picked her up from school to bring her to a doctor's appointment. As I had waved goodbye to her, I remember hearing her mom remark, "It's beautiful, Taylor! That'll lighten up that hallway!"—which had been somewhat funny to me, because I had found the painting to be incredibly sad. It was the absolute last thing I'd want hanging up on a wall in my house, despite its beauty.

Staring at it now, I still felt that sense of sadness, and I had to take a deep breath before knocking on Taylor's bedroom door.

"Come in," she said.

I opened the door and saw Taylor sitting in her bed, a blanket wrapped around her body as if she had withdrawn into a cocoon.

"How are you..." I started, before trailing off.

Her face, which I had thought was red and swollen from illness, was actually streaked with tears.

"Taylor, what's wrong?" I asked, rushing to her bed. I dropped the Gatorade I'd brought onto the comforter.

Her hazel eyes trailed to the drink. "You didn't have to bring that."

"I had one in the fridge already. Plus you're sick."

She couldn't seem to make eye contact with me. "I'm not sick. That was a lie."

Her admission caught me off guard. "So... what's going on?"
         
She seemed hesitant to start talking; her lip was quivering as she stared downwards. "Last night, I was on my computer—on that art forum I told you about—and I was messaging with someone. I'd been messaging them for a while actually, because I kind of like them, and we've been flirting for a bit."

Her fingers flitted down to the blanket, and she started fiddling with the tassels. "And then I went to take a shower and like an idiot I left my computer open. And my mom came in to drop off laundry and she saw all the messages."

My heart sunk because I knew what was coming. "And she freaked out because you were talking to a guy?"

Taylor looked so defeated in that moment, so small. "No," she whispered, her eyes locked on a tassel. "She freaked out because I was talking to a girl."

Her words stunned me, and for a moment, I couldn't say anything. Then Taylor added, in a voice so quiet that I almost didn't hear her, "I'm gay."

I reached my hand out and took hers in mine. I hadn't expected that this was the conversation I was about to walk into, but now that we were having it, and I could see how distraught she was, I knew I had to be there for my friend. "Tay," I said, "I had no idea... But you know that doesn't matter to me. I'm with you no matter what. You're my best friend and I love you."

She closed her eyes tightly—likely trying to stop the flow of tears—and then squeezed my hand.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," she said, wiping at the tears staining her cheeks. "I... wasn't really going to tell anyone. It just had to come out because of my mom, you know."

"It's okay," I said, although in reality, there was a small part of me that was surprised she hadn't said something to me sooner. Taylor and I were best friends. I would have thought this was something she would feel comfortable telling me. "Have you known for a while?"

She shrugged. "Kind of. I mean, I remember kissing Jay sophomore year when we went on that date and feeling nothing, which I thought wasn't a huge deal at the time because I wasn't even that into Jay. But then I realized that I wasn't really attracted to guys. And I've always thought girls were pretty and I started fantasizing a little about dating some of the girls in our class. But no one at Arlington is gay—or at least out—so it just never felt like something I needed to bring up." She took a deep breath. "And then I met Clarissa."

The way she said the name—all breathy, like a prayer—made me realize who she was referring to. "She's the girl from the art forum?"

Taylor nodded. "We started talking in July. At first she was just liking my posts. Then she started leaving comments, giving me feedback—but always being super nice and constructive. So I went to her profile and checked out some of the pieces she posted and Jessa, they were amazing." I watched Taylor's eyes glaze over as she reminisced. "She did a lot of realism, with these beautiful charcoal drawings of people that were so detailed and beautiful. That's when I first DM'd her and for a few weeks we'd just talk about art and applying to art schools and occasionally critique each other's work when we wanted feedback. Then I found a link to her Instagram and she is like, gorgeous. And on her page it said she went to Willis High, which was such a coincidence since it's literally twenty minutes away from us, and she also had all these posts about being bisexual, and at that point I was pretty sure I was gay and I told her that." She scrunched up her face. "We were making plans to go out on a date and that's what my mom saw and..." She trailed off as a sob escaped her throat.

I pulled Taylor into a hug. "It's going to be okay."

Taylor didn't say anything for a long time; she just cried into my arms, and I let her do that as long as she needed to. But eventually she pulled away. "I just feel so alone." She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. 

"I may not know exactly what you're going through, but you're not alone. You have me," I said, rubbing her back. "And it seems like you also have Clarissa. Even if your mom freaked out, she can't stop you from living your life." I hesitated, then asked, "Are you still going to meet up with her?"

"I want to. I just... I don't know what to do about my mom. When she found out last night, she was pretty upset. It was awful. She was asking me if I was just being 'rebellious' and wanted to 'experiment.' We got into this huge shouting match and I locked myself in my room... This morning, when I told her I was going to stay home from school, she told me that she loved me but it's hard to believe it after last night."

"To be honest, I feel like your mom would have freaked if you were going on a date with a boy."

That got a real laugh out of Taylor. She wiped away a tear and shook her head. "That's true. Oh Doreen..."

"She'll come around eventually," I said. "And if she doesn't, you can always stay with me. My parents love you. And I have an air mattress with your name on it!"

She groaned. "Not that thing. It deflated on me the last time I slept over."

"I think my dad patched it up after that, but I'm not sure if it's much better," I admitted. "But if you really need to stay, I'll switch with you. I'll take the crummy mattress, you take my bed. Or you can have Evan's room! He doesn't need it anymore."

"Jessa, you're amazing. Have I ever told you that?"

I shook my head. "I'm not that amazing. You're amazing. You're talented, and kind, and a total smoke show... and we're gonna get you spruced up so you can meet this Clarissa girl and show her how amazing you are."

"Thank you."

"No problem." I gave her another hug and then asked, "Are you going to school tomorrow?"

Taylor nodded. "I can't play sick forever. And we have that test on Hamlet in English."

"Wanna study with me? Aka, watch the Lion King and split this Gatorade?"

She laughed. "Yes, let's do that."

As she rearranged her pillows to make the perfect cozy movie hangout, I logged into Disney Plus and pulled the movie up on her computer. And then, after dimming the lights, we watched as the sun rose over the savannah.