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the church community.   She knows who the girl is. I don’t think I
want to know. But Andi goes on.
    “She's visiting
from the west coast. Her name is Carmen.”
    “And?”
    Andi sighs heavily. “Here's the emergency part: her body
mother's on the national Perp League board.”
      “The Perp League?
Great. This all just gets better and better.” The Perp League. The group tasked with finding ways to get rid of people like—people who
are deviants. Not me. I can’t think me.   “ Andi , I’m not…you
know.”
    She gazes back
at me. “No, of course not. Anybody could have feelings in the moment, right?
That doesn't make you Perpendicular. It doesn't mean you like girls now, does
it?”
    “Right. Anybody
could have feelings in the moment. You’ve done that, right? With a guy, I mean?”
    She just stares
at me. “No.”
    “Oh.” I swallow
hard, stare at the scarred picnic bench. “So, everybody doesn’t feel that way,
I guess. I mean, it’s not normal.” I look up at her. Her face mirrors my own feelings
of disgust mixed with confusion and fear. “ Andi , I
just can’t be…that.”
    “No, of course
not.” She rubs my arm, and then a look of horror crosses her face. “Oh, my God,
Chris, you're not attracted to me, are you?”
    “No,” I answer
with a shudder. “Yuck.”
    She smiles,
relieved, then frowns and says, “Why not?”
    “Well, you're
like my sister, Andi ! Even if I wasn’t...normal, it
wouldn’t mean I’d like every girl I see!” God, if this weren’t so awful, it
would almost be comical.
    “Well, the Perp League thing is a big deal. You can’t see her. Don’t
even try looking for her. If this girl's body mother is on a mission to save
you godforsaken Perps —”
    “I don't even
know if I am a Perp , Andi !”
    “Oh, my God,
Chris, of course you are!”
    Silence. A
barrier slams between us, suddenly; a truth that we both unconsciously
acknowledge but consciously ignore has roared into our reality like a
hurricane.
    “I don't know
for sure that I am,” I whisper.   “Maybe
that girl had manly arms or something.”
    A small,
embarrassed giggle escapes Andi's lips, then becomes
a full-on laugh. And I join in, relieved to be doing something besides
questioning my questionable mental health. “Manly arms?” Andrea gasps. “Seriously?”
    “Okay, okay.
Maybe you're right. Maybe I am...maybe I am Perpendicular.” I swallow hard;
it’s the first time I’ve said the word, seriously, in connection with myself,
and it feels like the ringing of a large, annoying buzzer signaling the end of
an admittedly boring, but normal, life. “Oh, Jesus, Andi .
I can’t be. I just can’t.” Sobs well up from my gut, fueled by years of pushing
down what I knew to be true, days and weeks and moments of killing desires and
ignoring hunches, slapping down the small stirrings of any kind of physical
feelings. Flashes of memory flood my mind, tiny things that, when added up,
give me the answer as sure as any mathematical equation.
    Andrea puts an
arm around me and leans her head against mine and my body shakes. “I've thought
you might be that way from when we were little. You just never quite...fit in.”
She sighs, takes my face in her hands, and smiles compassionately at me, wiping
away the damp from my cheek. “Nobody has to know, Chris. It can be our secret.
I won't tell.”
    “But...if it is
true, then what am I supposed to do about it?”
    “Nothing.” Andi sits on the table, staring at me. “You do nothing.”
    “What about
this Jim McFarland stuff?” I wipe my face on my coat sleeve.
    “Huh?”
    “I was trying
to tell you.” I slump against the weight of what my father wants me to do,
which seems even more awful now. “Dad took me out in the Spyder yesterday to talk about this guy, Jim McFarland, who wants to marry me and get
me into college.”
    Andrea stares
at me in disbelief. “He’s arranging a match for you?”
    “Some political
thing. This guy McFarland is the