January 6th, 2018

     It was Friday. Julian was going to be staying the night at my house. I was going to drive us there, so we didn't have to go on the smelly bus with a shit ton of gross pubescent teenagers. Besides, I had drove to and from school every day since I earned my license, excluding break, of course. It wouldn't be a problem.

     I went through my school day as normal. My mouth went a little dry every time I saw Julian, but that was just because he had never been to my house before. At the end of the day, he met me by my locker along with Kila, and we headed to the parking lot. Kila went to her parents' car, while Julian and I went to mine. And the forty minute ride home started.

     "Do you mind if I play some music?" I asked Julian.

     "No, not at all," he smiled, "I have faith that you don't like trash music."

     "I'm honored."

     I plugged in the aux cord and put my itunes music on shuffle. The first thing that started playing was Mozart's Leck Mich im Arsch. As the chorus played, I felt my face flush.

     "Are they saying 'lick me in the ass'?" Julian asked, looking at me with an expression of hilarity.

     "That is the rough translation, yes."

     "And what is the proper translation?"

     "Kiss my ass."

     Julian snorted. "I think we'll be good friends, you and I."

     I flushed at the statement. "I hope so," I said, keeping my eyes glued to the road ahead of me."

     I felt Julian's eyes boring into my head. I glanced back at him. He was smiling with his mouth wide open. It almost looked like he was in awe. That confused me more than anything ever had.

     When we got to my house, I gave Julian a tour and introduced him to my family as we saw them. We started with the kitchen, where my little sister, Tonya, was making a peanut butter sandwich.

     "Hi, Sam," she said, monotonously as we walked in. Then she looked up. "Who the frick is this?" She asked, surprised.

     "Hi, Tonya. This is Julian. Julian, this is my second youngest sister, Tonya."

     "You have another friend? Besides Kila?" Tonya gaped at me in awe.

     Julian laughed.

     "Classy, Tonya," I said, flushed, "really classy."

     "I know I am." She smiled. "Nice meeting you, Julian."

     "Brat," I muttered, underneath my breath.

     "What was that?" Tonya called after me.

     "Brat," I said, louder this time.

     "Fuck yourself," Tonya shouted behind her as she left.

     "Language, Tonya! Oh, hi, Sam. I'm assuming this is Julian?"

     "Yep. Julian, this is my dad."

     "Nice to meet you, sir," Julian said.

     I could taste the awkwardness.

     "Please, don't be like that. You can call me Randy. Or dad. Honestly, I have so many children that one more would hardly be of notice."

     "Okay, dad," Julian said, smiling in amusement.

     Next, we went to the living room, where my oldest sister and brother were lounging. They were both freshmen in the same college.

     "Hi, Sam," they said at the same time. "Hi, Kila."

     "This isn't Kyla. It's Julian."

     "Oh, you're gay?" My brother Adrian asked.

     "Why didn't you tell us?" My sister Ava added in.

     "What!" I exclaimed. "No! No. Julian is just a friend. Nothing more! Jeez."

     My sister shrugged. "If you say so."

     "I do say so. "

     Julian was in hysterics as we walked into the hallway. "Really?" He asked, in between laughs. "Your family . . . is the chillest family . . . I have ever met. They just assumed you were gay. And your younger sister! 'You have another friend?' Oh, that was great."

     I flushed as butterflies drifted around in my stomach. "Yeah, whatever. Okay, so, there's the bathroom. That's my youngest brother's room. You haven't met him, yet. His name is Daniel, and he's ten. Across from his room is my youngest sister, Makayla's room. She's eight. Then there's Tonya's room, my room, the twins' old room, and my parents' room. Oh, and that," I indicated towards a large ball of orange fluff, "is Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Wammo for short. He's an asshole, but we love him."

     "Okay . . . Wow. Why'd you name him after Mozart?"

     "Because the first day we adopted him, we thought he had a STD."

     "That's nice."

     "I thought so."

     At that point, for whatever reason, we both smiled. It was strange. I'm a logical thinker. I was at that point, and I always have been. So when we both smiled for no apparent reason, it confused me. Actually, everything about Julian confused me. It also intrigued me. I needed to know more. Which is why, when we had settled ourselves in my room, I suggested a game of twenty questions.

     "Okay," Julian replied, dangling his feet off the top bunk of my bunk bed. "I'll start. What's your greatest fear?"

     "That's deep." I lied down on my bottom bunk, staring at the metal rails that suspended the other mattress above me. "Um, I don't know." I thought hard. "This is going to sound stupid, but my 'greatest fear,'" I said, mocking him, "is being untrue to what I believe in. You?"

     Julian popped his head down to look at me. "Mine is not being good enough. Or dying. Dying is pretty high up on the list. Your turn."

     "Who do you look up to most in life?"

     "Pablo Picasso."

     "Why?"

     "Because he just didn't give a fuck. He was mentally ill and he cut his own ear off."

     "That's not a very good reason."

     "You're not a very good reason."

     "Besides, arguably, Picasso gave too many fucks. That's why he was so fucked up.."

     "Whatever. What about you? Who do you look up to most?"

"Kila. She's been through a lot, but she keeps trekking forward."

     "Fair enough. Now it's my turn. What's your worst memory?"

     I thought. I thought for a while. Finally, I spoke. "Seventh grade. I came back from winter break and some kids were being asshole. They shoved me in a janitor's closet and locked me in. I was stuck in there for the whole school day."

     "Wow . . . That . . . That sucks."

     "What's yours?"

     Julian remained silent. For five whole minutes, he didn't say a word or make a noise. When he finally spoke, his voice broke. "When my mother . . . When she-" Julian exhaled slowly.

     I got up off the lower bunk and climbed up to the top bunk. Julian's eyes were glossy.

     I sat next to him and let him rest his head on my shoulder, even though I was a little uncomfortable. "Julian," I said, trying to keep my voice firm, "you don't have to tell me. Okay? You don't have to open up about every single detail of your life to me. It's a simple game of twenty questions. If you don't want to answer something, just tell me."

    Julian sniffled like a puppy and my heart almost fucking melted. I had never felt as emotionally attached to someone as I had felt to Julian in just a few days. I was in some deep shit.

     "I'm sorry. We were supposed to hang out, and here I am, sniffling into your shoulder like a little girl. Mio padre si vergognerebbe."

     "What?"

     "Nothing."

     "Italian, right?"

     "How'd you know?"

     "I've taken three years of Spanish and two years of French. I can tell a romance language when I hear one. Also, Kila has an unhealthy obsession with The Godfather."

     "The what?"

     I smiled, maliciously. "Now I know what we're going to binge watch."