"Sorry, Nudibranc, I shouldn't have gotten onto you like that."

I nod.

"Parro told me what you guys talked about this morning."

"Okay."

"I didn't realize...any of that. So, sorry."

"How does they work?" the question bursts itself out. "How do you be a they? Isn't they for a big group of people? But Hamme isn't..." and already my question has burst itself to bits.

Ange shakes the pot on the stove, something with fish and rice and spices, itching my throat from across the room. "They is like..." Ange pauses. "Okay first of all, speaking words and signing words follow different grammar. Like--"

"I know. I read books. People speak in books."

"Right. So in speaking..." he stares at the pot on the stove. "Maybe that's not relevant."

I hold a hand over my mouth, to block out the spices itching through the water.

"So," Ange signs, "I should write down the speaking stuff, so it makes sense."

I nod.

"But basically, Hamme goes by they because Hamme doesn't relate to either gender. Hamme doesn't feel like a girl or a guy."

My restless fingers wiggle in the beginning of a question I can't name, but I hide that hand behind my back.

"It's the idea that there's more to a person than just their gender. Being put in the guy box makes Hamme uncomfortable, but so does being put in the girl box. They don't feel okay in any box. So, they go by they. Outside the box.

"And yes, in signing, 'they' refers to a group of people. Most of the time it's the same in speaking. But sometimes..." Ange stares at the green ceiling. "I should write this part down so you can see it better."

"We only have paper in the store."

"I know."

"Should I go get some?"

"Let's do it tomorrow. So I can think about how to explain it better," Ange shows his teeth and turns back to the stove. My throat's all itchy and it's spread to the back of my eyes to make them itch so I paddle down the hall to my room and shut the thick door. My eyes quit itching, my throat quits itching, the wiggling in my fingers subsides. I spread my limbs and float up above my bed, I shut my eyes. My brain buzzes, boxes, a bunch of boxes, why are people in a bunch of boxes?

I imagine Ange and Parro, like they're kelp dolls. I put them into a wooden box, like I'm helping wrap somebody's birthday present. I don't know whose; maybe mine, except that doesn't make sense.

I put Anemon into the box beside them, and Da, and the blue-finned guy from the store, and some neighbors up and down the street who I never talk to.

I picture another box beside it, I put Sta and Mackere and Mum and Wrass in there. I put myself in there.

I pull me back out.

I put me back in, littler than all the others.

I don't like boxes.

I grab the Hamme doll, blue-gray, I set them on the floor beside the boxes. The doll looks lonely there.

I put the Hamme doll in the girl box, I suppose they look uncomfortable there, slightly mismatched, though the black-pebble eyes don't look distressed or annoyed.

I try out Hamme in the boy box, they blend in there I think, but I guess that makes the Hamme doll upset since they start floating like their swim bladder's all loose and out of control--like me, when I get all anxious.

I move the Hamme doll back to the floor, they sit there without floating. I check on the me-doll again, I've begun floating but I am littler and being close to people gets me anxious, so that must be it, I'm anxious. Just for fun I put me in the boy box but I float out of there real fast so I put me back in the girl box since I'm not like Hamme either I really don't think. So I'm fine with the girl box, I think.