7. angie nguyen is annoying as hell

thegayagenda: look gays we need to come up with something

screwTERFs: no shit

screwTERFs: coming out is nothing to take lightly

tuesday: asdjfghsk i don't even know where to start

thepinkunicorn: we're going to make it work!! 

thepinkunicorn: and if your parents do stupid shit then you're moving in with me 

tuesday: anyways i love all of u >:((

thepinkunicorn: love u more asshole <3

tuesday: as u should ❤

peterthehyun: y'all better  fucking stop spamming me :D

Propping myself onto my mattress, I let out a soft, breathy laugh at the group chat that Lucas had taken the liberty of adding me to about a week ago.

Before I can type some smart ass comment in response to all of them, a voice cuts through my thoughts.

"Who are you texting?"

I roll my eyes, lowering my phone as my (two minutes younger) sister stands in front of my bed, casually decked out in an oversized t-shirt and denim shorts. We're nearly identical, the same dark hair, marbly eyes, jutted chins.

"Wouldn't you like to know, weatherboy?" I reply easily, Angie rolling her eyes.

"You're smiling," She says, eyebrows raised. "You never smile."

With that, she makes her way over to where I'm sprawled out and leans over my shoulder like the nosy shit she is, eyes roving over the messages. Once it seems like she's done, she blows a gust of dark hair over her head, pursing her lips.

"Looks gay." She says decidedly, nodding at my phone.

"No shit. It's the GSA groupchat." My eyes find my phone. Despite my initial effort to leave, the groupchat has turned out to be somewhat amusing. Somehow, I can't bring myself to permanently leave, despite the fact that half of the messages are keyshmashes or crying emojis.

"GSA," Angie hums, thoughtfully. "So, you're—?" She starts, eyes casually finding mine.

"Queer." I reply, letting out a yawn. "But you knew that."

She tilts her head to the side. "Probably." She juts a manicured finger at her forehead. "Twintuition."

She waves her hand, vaguely gesturing towards my entire body. "Plus, you give off 2000s emo gay vibes, so there's that."

My eyes drop to my vintage t-shirt. I don't think I've worn a bright color in my life. Shit burns the eyes.

"Well," I say, mindlessly scrolling through my phone. "I was forced to join the GSA due to a minor altercation with a substitute teacher."

"Do I even want to know?" Angie asks, lips quirking upwards in amusement.

"You do not," I state simply, Angie giving me a not-so-gentle shove in the head, a snicker escaping her lips.

Angela Nguyen is probably my best friend. In a way. While no one can beat Amir or even Dani's constant presence in my life—Angie and I shared the womb together, and I highly doubt that you can get any closer than that. She's most likely the one thing that's stayed constant throughout the turbulent shitfest that's been my life.

I run a hand through my hair, letting out a yawn as Angie goes on about some stupid AP class that she's taking. She has a solid ninety-six percent in it, of course, but it's still a pain in the ass, apparently.

Angie and I don't go to the same school. And shit kind of sucks, given that I'm nearly one hundred percent sure that Angie would fit right into T. Boulevard. But— courtesy of one Ms. Willis— Angie's enrolled in some pretentious private school thirty minutes away from home.

Reasons for that? Well, Ms. Willis states—and I quote— that, "I need to put my resources where I can reap benefits." 

Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. 

But in simple terms, she's essentially stating: "Jason isn't smart enough to go to private school. So, I'm not wasting my money on him."

"Hey," Angie waves a hand in front of my face, breaking though my thoughts.

"Yeah?" I yawn, the thoughts flitting away. "What?"

"You better finish up with the laundry." Annoying grin. "I'm already done mine, so."

"You're not going to help me? After I spilled all my deepest secrets out to you?" I ask, raising a hand to my chest.

"Yep," Angie grins again, enunciating the one-worded syllable. 

"Motherfucker," I say solemnly, to which Angie returns with that shit-eating grin. "I know you are, but what am I?"

"You're kidding," I deadpan.

"Oh, and by the way, I'm taking the car." My sister replies, one eye shutting into a wink.

Before I can cuss her out, she's skipping out the door and—thankfully—shutting it behind her.

With that, a pinging sound from my phone causes my eyes to drop down to it in an instant. I've already missed about fifty six messages. Damn, the gays talk a lot. But the latest message is one from Lucas.

thegayagenda: so i need to know the availability for monday's coming out

thegayagenda: today

With that, a flurry of messages respond in the affirmative, Monday gushing out thank yous to every reply. Running a hand through my hair, I mentally flip Angie off before typing.

me: can't make it

me: sister dearest made off with the car

And I know for a fact Ms. Willis would sooner jump off of a moving train than let me use her car. So, I'm essentially stuck.

A few seconds pass before another message from Lucas appears onscreen.

thegayagenda: i can pick you up :')

me: i'd appreciate that

thegayagenda: where do you live??

me: creep.

me: at least buy me dinner first

thegayagenda:...

me: thought that was some top notch humor myself ahahaha

me: anyways. i'm sending you the address

Which I do. Fingers flying across the keyboard, I send Lucas my address. Once I receive a tan thumbs up emoji in return, I make my way downstairs, taking a seat on the beige armchair centered in the foyer, fingers mindlessly playing some farming game.

After a few seconds, I hear the doorbell ring. My eyes practically pop open, because I can't remember ever hearing someone using the doorbell. A laugh escapes my lips. Has to be Lucas. I take a glance through the camera, where Lucas is standing at the front door, hands fiddling with each other as he glances around.

The whole thing is weirdly amusing to me. Especially given the fact that Lucas Garcia made his way all the way over to the front door, whereas Amir, Dani, and Riya are fine with just loudly honking from their cars, driving away if I don't make it down on time.

So, I open the door.

"Hey," He says, lips tilting into a half grin.

"Hey," I reply, mirroring the expression. I shut the door behind me, making my way down the front steps, right behind Lucas.

Once we're out on the driveway, Lucas' eyes catch onto something, eyebrows raising. "There's a nice-looking car in your driveway." He says, voice lilting into a confused tone.

"Oh," I let out a breath, eyes catching onto the silver car. "It's Ms. Willis'." My voice comes out a bit short. "She's my... guardian. And she wouldn't be too happy to see me using her car."

"Why not?" He asks, slowing down so I'm forced to fall into step with him.

"Don't worry about it." I brush the whole thing off, because this is one of the lucky days in which Ms. Willis is out partying or some shit. She's the last person I want to be talking about right now.

Lucas glances over at me, lips pursed. He unlocks his car, and I take it in. It's cherry red, somewhat small,  but somehow so weirdly Lucas, my lips slightly quirk upwards. 

As much as they can, anyway. The whole Ms. Willis thing has somehow clouded over my mind. 

Once we slide into Lucas' car, Lucas slowly inches out of the driveway, nervously glancing around and glancing behind as he backs out.

By the time we're home free, cruising down the road—cruising is probably a generous term, though. Because Lucas Garcia is moving at more of a turtle-like pace. Although, I've pissed off more than my fair share of policemen by speeding, so my opinion probably doesn't mean much.

Cuban music fills the air as we drive off, and I glance out of the window, lips pursed as the cars fly by.

I'm certain that I've fallen way deep into one of my moods for no good reason whatsoever, and I can't seem to snap out of it. I'm distracted.

Lucas glances over at me ever so often, head doing the subtlest tilt in my direction, eyes soft.

"Pick your own music," He says finally, nodding to the dashboard where his phone is lying face-up.

So, with one quick glance in his direction, I do. My fingers find something by Linkin Park, and music blasts through the air, Lucas' lips quirking upwards as I let my head move back and forth. Lucas shakes his head slightly, turning the volume upwards as he returns his gaze to the road.

We finally pull up to a plain blue house, the driveway nearly clear save for Monday who's standing at the center, fingers intertwined as they anxiously wait for us to pull into their house.

"Oh, God, you're here." They say, wringing out their hands, slight nerves appearing in their eyes. We step out in front of them, Lucas giving them a gentle smile.

"Of course we are." 

"Alright," Monday lets out a shaky breath, clapping their hands together. "Alright. I'm really doing this." They fan themselves. "Oh, crap, I feel faint."

"Hey, you're alright." Lucas says, swinging an arm around their shoulder.

"I know. I'm pretty fucking great." They say, lips twitching as they exhale. "Come on inside, guys. My parents are already here."

With that, Monday makes their way to the front door, long blue sweater billowing behind them. They open the door, and we make our way into the living room, where the rest of the GSA is already hanging around.

Ellie, Avery, and Hyun are already in casual conversation, Monday's parents ushering about the kitchen.

Once Monday arrives, they hold onto a sheet of paper, clenched tightly between two hands. They clear their throat. "I, uh, I have something to say."

Their parents glance in their direction. Monday's dad raises both eyebrows. "Sure, honey." The two of them make their way to the front counter, standing across from Monday, concern riddled in their eyes.

"This is something I've wanted to tell you two for a while." They start, voice faltering. "And..." They start, stop, let out a shaky breath.

Lucas rubs their back, comfortingly, Avery mouthing a you can do this in their direction, Ellie giving them an encouraging nod, Peter sending a soft smile their way.

Monday tries again, eyes burning into the paper. "A lot of people perceive me as a different gender, but I'm not."

Their parents exchange glances, but say nothing and allow their child to continue.

Monday's grip on their paper tightens. "I've been trying out the word non-binary to describe my gender. It fits."

Monday glances down at their paper for a few moments, before shoving it into their pocket.

"This means that I'm not male or female. I'm just... Monday." A gentle pause, Monday's hands untangling from each other. "I use they and them pronouns."

They glance around, and a half grin rises to my lips. Monday mirrors the smile, giving soft glances to everyone in the GSA, all sprinkled around the living room. "I've felt really accepted by all my friends at the GSA, and it's been rough having people come to terms with and respect my identity."

"I really hope that you're able to accept me. Because," Their voice breaks, breaths coming in shutters. "This is who I am. I'm your kid."

"Oh," Their mom starts, tucking a black wave behind her ear. Her eyes soften as she reaches torwards Monday, a hand tucking their curls behind their ear. A soft smile. "Monday is such a beautiful name."

It's a simple six words, but Monday finally breaks down, nodding through a steady flow of tears, shaky breaths. 

Their parents don't waste any time to surround their child, arms finding either side of them, Monday sniffling into their shoulders.

I feel like I'm intruding on a private moment, and my heart almost pangs. Because as happy as I am for Monday and this major milestone they've just reached— I've never felt that.

That feeling of your parents engulfing you into a hug, that no matter what promise. A promise that they'd be there, that they'd have your back, that they'd always fucking protect you. Because you're their kid, and they'd fight worlds for you.

I've never had that.

And I'm almost touch-starved, really. Still, a shaky smile rises to my lips at the sight because Monday Carter just fucking came out, and it seems to be going exceedingly well. And they deserve that, to have parents that will wrap them into a warm hug with no qualms.

Maybe I don't. I let out a breath, hands sliding into my pockets

After a few seconds of watching the embrace, it occurs to everyone that Monday needs some time alone with their parents, and we've done our part as the support system in case everything went to shit.

And it didn't.

So, Lucas Garcia slides an arm around Ellie Evans' shoulders, Peter Hyun slinging his arms around the two of them. I trail behind, Avery skipping beside me, and soon, we're out of the door, making our way into the driveway.

"So, do all your coming out scenes always go this smoothly?" I ask, hands shoved into my pockets as I lean against Lucas' car, the GSA members turning towards me.

"Oh, absolutely," Ellie says, flinging a flamboyant hand. "My dad was so thrilled when I told him I was trans that he packed up his shit and left." She says it with a plastered-on smile, and I can't tell whether or not to push further to see if it's true, or to leave it be.

"Oh," I say instead, like a dumbass.

Ellie blinks, offering me an attempt at a half smile. "Don't worry about it," her shoulders fall, "he was already an asshole before then, mainly why he left." An exhale.

"Avery's parents are bohemian hippies and vegans," Hyun says, jutting a finger in Avery's side, slightly lightening the mood. "So, she's good. Way easier on her than the rest of us."

"But," Lucas says, clasping his hands together. "This is a good day. In fact, this is a great day. Monday came out. Things seem to be going good, am I right?" He grins, people visibly perking up because Lucas Garcia tends to have that effect.

He commands attention with a smile and a lighter topic, and everyone's hooked in seconds. But it's not like he completely ignores the problem, either. And I can tell because he gives Ellie Evans an almost imperceptible squeeze in the shoulder, assuring her that yes, he's here. And yes, he hears her.

I can see why he's president.

"We are going to get ice cream," Lucas says, grinning at all four of us, hands outstretched on either side of himself. "And we're going to get a whole tub for Monday. French Vanilla." He winks. "Because it's their favorite."

"Sound good?" Lucas finally asks, glancing at all of us, adjusting the collar of his dress shirt, white converse tapping the floor.

There are some sounds of agreement, people nodding at Lucas' request. Lucas' eyes find mine. "What about you? You up for it, Jason?" A half smile teases at his lips.

"Yeah," I say, mine quirking into a matching half smile. "Sounds good."

***

monday came out and u got to meet angie :')

by the way. i'm pretty proud of the contact names if i do say so myself



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