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Indeed, when he got back from Samaki's on Sunday, Sal came into his room without knocking. "Hey," he said, leaning against the doorframe.

Kory looked up and waited. Sal looked away. "My mom says, uh, you should probably move out next weekend."

"Okay," Kory said evenly.

They looked at each other, and then Sal turned and left.

If that had been the end of it, that would have been bad enough, plunging Kory back into the turbulent issue of where he might possibly live. With his mother? Absolutely not. With his aunt Tilly? Even if she didn't live further from school than Samaki did, she was if anything more religious than his mother. With another relative in another city? The only one he might look up was his father, somewhere on the West Coast, the father he hadn't spoken to in almost eight years. He didn't have any other friends close enough to impose upon. That left Samaki's house, or the Rainbow Center. He settled on the Rainbow Center, at least temporarily, because he knew that the aquatic room was still vacant.

Tuesday morning homeroom brought more turmoil to his life. As he and Sal spent the second morning in uncomfortable adjacent silence, Geoff Hill cooed nastily behind them, "Oooh, trouble in paradise? Lovers' quarrel?"

"Fuck off," Sal said.

"Come on now, ladies," the raccoon said, chortling. "Kiss and make up."

"I said, fuck off," Sal said, turning to face Geoff.

Clearly delighted to have provoked a reaction, the raccoon flipped his wrist limply forward. "How butch! Way to defend your boyfriend."

Sal got half out of his seat. Their teacher snapped his name sharply.

Kory turned as he sat back down. He gave Kory a sideways look and said, "He's not my boyfriend."

Kory could have punched him, and if he hadn't known that the homeroom teacher was looking right at them, he might have. His only hope, that Geoff hadn't heard him, was dashed a moment later.

"Oh, it's like Romeo and Juliet, but with faggots!" he whispered just before the homeroom bell rang.

At least he could ignore Geoff, Kory thought. But on Wednesday, he noticed some other kids staring at him. After English class, Perry scooted quickly from the class, where he usually hung back to chat with Kory. The otter didn't want to think it was related, but sitting in the silent car with Sal on the way home, he couldn't come to any other conclusion. His relationship with Samaki was spreading, rippling out further, out into the light.

"You told someone about me, didn't you?" he said to Sal.

His friend didn't immediately answer. When he did say, "Why would you assume it was me?" the pause was so long that Kory knew he'd had to think of what to say. "Maybe it was your friend the feeb," Sal added.

"It wasn't Perry," Kory said. "He didn't know anything. You did. Nobody else at school did."

Sal paused again. "I don't see why it matters," he said. "You're an English major, and everyone kinda half-thought you were gay anyway."

"What does that mean?"

Sal went on as though Kory hadn't spoken. "But my friends...I got a reputation to protect."

"So you sold me out."

"I didn't get any money for it, if that's what you're thinking. I just had to set the record straight. Well," he added, smirking, "at least set my record straight."

"You're such an asshole," Kory said.

"Fuck you too."

He didn't talk to Sal again that night.

Nick noticed right away that something was wrong, of course, even before Kory'd gotten out the money to pay for the pizza. "What's going on?" he said as they sat down to wait.

The thought of denying it flickered only briefly across his mind. "School," he said. "You haven't heard?"

Nick inclined his head. "Nah."

Kory summed up the rumors and the way he was being looked at, and, he suspected, talked about. Nick listened, leaning forward on the table. "I dunno," he said. "It's just not that big a deal in my class. Maybe they're just wondering why you didn't want to tell anyone."

"It doesn't feel like that."

"I told you about the gay kid in my class, right?" Kory nodded. "So why should it be a big deal for you?"

"It's just...why does everyone have to know? It's my business." He bit down hard on a breadstick.

Nick laughed. "Everyone's in everyone's business. My friends get on my case if I'm not on IM every night. They think I'm grounded or something."

Kory shrugged. "It's not like I have a lot of friends." He watched Nick devour another breadstick and took a small bite of his own. There were probably about twenty kids he could list who Nick considered 'friends.'

"What about, um, what's-their-names, Jamie, Jason?"

"Jason and Dev? I haven't played online with them in ages."

"Oh." Nick leaned back to let the weasel drop the pizza on their table. He had two slices on plates and was back behind the counter almost before they could say "thank you."

Kory took a bite, while Nick kept rubbing his muzzle. "Well, what about Griff and Heko?"

"They were Jenny's friends more than mine."

Nick flicked his ears and his grin angled up at one corner. "So who do you talk to at school? You've still got Sal, right?"

Kory chewed his pizza and didn't answer. "Hoo boy," Nick said. "You and Sal had a fight?"

"I think he was the one who told people about me," Kory said.

Nick took a bite, considering that. "Why would he do that?"

"We had a fight. Friday night. I'm moving out this weekend."

Nick paused with the slice halfway to his mouth, his ears straight up. His eyes widened, and the fur around them creased with worry. "Where are you gonna go?"

"To the Rainbow Center," Kory said. "At least for now."

"Still not movin' in with Samaki, huh?"

Kory took a bite, chewed, and swallowed before answering. "Rainbow Center's more convenient to school, and they're set up to help people. Plus Margo has connections to help me get a job, which I'm gonna have to do."

"I don't like the idea of you living at a homeless shelter."

Kory grinned. "Come visit sometime. It's a pretty nice house."

"Oh, I will."

Watching his brother gulp down his third slice of pizza, Kory felt the urge to hug him. Even if everyone else in school despised him, even if Sal was afraid of being turned gay or whatever it was that was going through his head, at least Kory still had Nick. "Thanks," he said.

Nick looked up. "Mmf?" He swallowed. "For what?"

"Just...for being there."

The young otter grinned, his ears flipping back bashfully. "Ah, well, someone's gotta look out for ya, right?"

"I'm glad someone is." Kory grabbed another slice, feeling better and hungrier.

"Not just me," Nick said.

"I know. Samaki is too."

Nick pointed up. "And Him."

"Yeah." Kory let the taste of tomatoes and anchovy roll around in his mouth. "I hope so."

*

The next day, after the next to last meeting of the college prep class, Kory followed Perry out and caught up to him, despite the wolf's quick pace. When it became impossible for Perry to ignore Kory without being overt about it, he sighed, ears back and tail down. "Hi."

Kory was in no mood for pleasantries. "What's up?"

"Nothing." The wolf's eyes darted back and forth.

"You've been acting weird around me the last couple days."

Perry refused to look directly at Kory. "I'm just busy, ya know."

"Right," Kory said. "Busy listening to rumors about me?"

Now Perry stopped, looked furtively around, and lowered his voice. "Is it true?"

Kory wanted to shake him. "Is what true? Who told you?"

Perry looked at his paws, twisting his fingers around and around. "I heard Dilly Carlisle say that you and Sal are gay but you broke up recently. But then Flora McGuister said that Sal wasn't gay, that it was just you and you were trying to turn him gay and he kicked you out."

"So, what? You afraid of gay people?" Kory took a step forward.

Perry cringed. "No, no," he said. "They're fine! Only I can't...I mean, they already call me loser, bitch, p-pawfu..." His ears were flat back now. "Other stuff. I can't hang out with you. It'll just make it all worse. They'll call us butt-buddies, or c-cocksuckers." He whispered the last word.

Kory's stomach lurched. He waved a paw at the cowering thing. "Fine," he said. "Go. Don't be seen with me."

"I'm sorry," Perry said. "I'm just not strong like you." He scuttled to the door, and out.

Strong? At the moment, the otter felt anything but. The prospect of going from that conversation to facing the silent car ride home with Sal depressed him. Kory leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

Clicks of claws on the tile floor echoed through the hallways, receding. It wasn't that Perry had been a particularly good friend. It was just that the school year wasn't even half over, and already he'd lost most of the people he'd spent time with at school. There were casual friends, more like acquaintances, and none of them had acted any differently toward him this week, but they weren't the kind of friends he could talk to about college, or relationships, or life. When he'd broken up with Jenny, he'd stopped going to parties and movies, stopped hanging out with them Friday nights at the Big Boy, stopped talking about TV shows. Odd, indeed, that it was the conversation with his newest "friend," Perry, that had brought home how far he'd drifted from his older ones.

He opened his eyes and looked back down the long, empty hallway. Outside the glass doors, across the parking lot, Sal sat in his car, waiting. Walking across the bus lanes, the feeling in Kory's stomach was the same feeling he'd gotten going back to his room to get his winter clothes. He was in a place that had once been a part of his life, where he no longer belonged, an archaeological curiosity, a legacy of a past civilization that had crumbled and died.

Dreading the conversation that would ensue, he hadn't told Samaki about leaving Sal's, but on their nightly call, he knew he couldn't put it off any longer.

"Why do you have to leave?" Samaki sounded angrier than Kory'd ever heard him.

"I guess I just overstayed my welcome here. I knew it couldn't be forever."

"No, but they could give you more warning than a week. Did something happen?"

He drew his legs tighter against his chest, sitting on the bed. "No," he said, and then the wave of guilt over the first lie he'd told Samaki forced him to take it back. "I mean, yeah, kind of, but it's a lot of things."

"Like what?"

Kory sighed. "Can I tell you Saturday? I don't want to go into it now."

A short pause greeted that remark. "Okay." Samaki sounded gentler. "I'm just worried for you. So did you want to move over here?"

That was the question Kory was dreading. "I want to," he said, stumbling, "but I talked to Margo and she said they have room. I thought it would be less trouble."

"It's no trouble."

"I know, but..." Kory sighed. "It's just easier. They don't have a lot of people there. I don't want to be a burden."

When Samaki spoke again, his voice sounded tight and pained. "All right. I'll see you there Saturday and we can talk about it."

Kory sat on the bed after they hung up, just staring at his cell phone. It had never occurred to him that he might lose the one person he'd lost everything else in his life for, but he'd never heard that tone in Samaki's voice. His refusal to move in there was obviously hurting the fox. Why couldn't he understand what Kory was going through and respect that? He couldn't believe that would be enough to drive them apart, but hadn't he and Jenny also changed and broken up? Hadn't there been a time when he'd believed they'd be happy forever? No, he thought. Not like with Samaki. Never like that.

But if Samaki needed him to move into the Rodens' house to save their relationship, then what?

*

Packing didn't take long, so even though he'd left most of it until Friday night, he was done within an hour after dinner. When he went across the hall to see if Sal would give him a ride, he found his friend's door open and his room dark.

"I think he went out, dear," Sal's mother said, coming upstairs as Kory was staring into the empty room.

"I guess so." Kory turned around and looked at the five boxes in his room, plus the computer. All his life fit in such a small space.

Sal's mother glided down the hall. Her paw rested on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry you have to move on. We've enjoyed having you here. Even if Sal hasn't quite picked up your dedication to education."

"I really appreciate you having me here for so long," he said, aware that he could mess up Sal's scheme by confessing that he didn't really want to leave. If he did, though, Sal might refuse to drive him to school, and anyway, he was anxious to leave at this point, as bad as this last week had been.

She had applied perfume today. "It was no trouble," she said, the pine scent wafting over him in waves as she spoke. "Do you have a ride to where you're going?"

"No," he said. "I was thinking of just calling a taxi."

"Oh, don't be silly," she said. "We'll drive you over. Joey!"

Sal's father called from downstairs. "What?"

"Come help Kory load his things into the car."

"You don't have to..." Kory began, worrying about them seeing the Rainbow Center, but it was too late. Sal's father was already on the stairs.

"It's no trouble," Sal's mother said. "And until things are better with your mother, you call on us if you need anything."

He was too startled to answer that, too startled to do anything but watch as Sal's father hefted a box of books and carried it down the stairs. He hadn't realized that they knew that much. Either Sal had told them or they had called and asked of their own accord. Really, how naïve would he have to be to believe that they wouldn't realize something was wrong when their son's best friend moved into their spare room for over a month?

"Did you talk to her?" he asked, picking up his computer while Sal's mother took a light box of clothes.

She shook her head. "Sal told us you were having a fight over some family business. It's for you to work out. We don't want to intrude."

In his experience, she didn't intrude much in matters that concerned her own family, either. Whether Sal's father felt the same, he didn't know, even after the twenty-minute ride to Badger Square. He tried to get them to leave him there, but they insisted on driving him to the door of the house, and because he couldn't figure out how to carry five boxes and his computer down a block and a half, he finally directed them to Rainbow House.

Margo flung the door open and embraced Kory. "Welcome," she said. "Stay as long as you need to. I'm Margo Cinturis. I..."

"Margo lives here." Kory jumped in. "I met her over the summer and she, um, has a little kind of hotel here, I called her this week and she said she can keep me here for a while."

"Joe DiAngelo, and my wife Alia." Sal's father extended a paw, which Margo shook, turning her attention away from Kory.

"Thank you for bringing Kory over," she said. "I'll take care of him here."

"I like your plaque," Sal's mother said, brushing a finger over it.

Her husband glanced at the burnished bronze, then back at Margo. "Do you have a phone number here?"

"You can call my cell phone," Kory said quickly, but Margo had already disappeared back into the house. She emerged a moment later with a scrap of paper., which she handed to Sal's father. It wasn't a business card, Kory saw.

They helped him move the boxes inside and then left, after asking him one more time whether he'd be okay. He and Margo moved the boxes down to the aquatic room, where the bed had been freshly made and the water lightly scented. Kory looked down at it. "Can't wait to get in there," he sighed.

"Malaya's very excited that you'll be living here," Margo told him, piling his clothes on the bed.

"Really? Hey, you don't have to do that."

She waved away his objection and continued emptying his boxes and bags, her tail flicking. "Well, as excited as Malaya gets. I don't know what to do with that girl sometimes, but I'm happier to have her back here than with her father. She absolutely won't go to her grandmother's and I don't know what else to do. She can't stay here for another year and a half."

Kory started putting the clothes away in the worn dresser. "Well, when I figure out what I'm doing, maybe she can come with me."

Margo chuckled, making Kory want to smile back at her, despite his mood. Her beaming smile radiated genuine warmth, making him think of Mrs. Roden. "I think she'd like that, I really do. Do you want me to tell her you're here?"

He thought about that. "I think I just want to go to sleep. I'll see her tomorrow."

But when he thought about tomorrow, he thought first about Samaki. He hoped the fox would understand his decision. More than that, he hoped he himself would understand it.

*

He'd been unable to sleep well for any length of time, so when Samaki arrived the next day, Kory was lying in the water, paws linked behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He heard the door open and close, and smelled fox.

"Hi," he said, not moving.

Blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and a beige jacket moved into his vision, surmounted by a white under-muzzle and violet eyes, looking down. Two large black ears cupped down. "Hi," Samaki said. "How you doing?" He placed a Starbucks cup on the floor near Kory and sipped from another one as he sat on the floor.

Kory flipped over and crawled out of the water, sitting upright on the floor. Samaki sat a foot away from him, keeping his clothes dry. "I'm okay," Kory said, smiling with a little relief at the fox's calm demeanor. Samaki would understand. He always did. "It's been a hard week. Thanks." He raised the Starbucks and took a drink.

Samaki nodded. "So what happened with you and Sal?"

Kory closed his eyes. The warm latte filled his muzzle with coffee smell and milk sweetness. "He wasn't as okay with our relationship as he thought he was."

"Asshole," Samaki growled.

"Well, it was more that he wasn't okay with thinking that he might be gay."

"And that's your fault? So he can't be a good friend just because you're gay?"

Kory shook his head. "It's...there was some stuff." He didn't want to tell anyone about the previous Friday night. He wanted to put it out of his mind. It was Sal's secret, and whether he thought he was gay or whether he just wanted to experiment was his business and nobody else's.

"What stuff?" When Kory didn't answer, Samaki leaned forward. "Did he come on to you?"

Kory looked back at the fox's eyes. Was it that obvious? "Uh, well..."

Samaki shook his head. "I've had three of my straight friends try to experiment with me in the last two years. It always ends badly. They think, I don't know, they think being gay means you'll do anyone. They think it won't change anything." He growled the words. "I'd think he would know better, though. Wasn't he your best friend?"

"Yeah." Kory shrugged. "He was drunk, he'd been dancing with this girl the whole evening, and she got him all worked up."

"Still." They sat and contemplated Sal and other "curious" straight friends, until Kory sensed that the currents of Samaki's thoughts were drifting in a new direction. The black fox's tail was curled up tightly around his legs, his tail twitching. "So," Samaki said. "Margo set up this room pretty nice."

Kory took another sip of the lukewarm latte and set it aside. "Yeah."

"How long you figure to stay here?"

He inhaled, exhaled. "I don't know."

"If it's the water, you know, we can get Mariatu's kiddie pool and put it in the basement."

Samaki was smiling, his ears perked. "It's not the water," Kory said.

"Then what?" The smile faded, slowly. "Mom said you can stay. I want you to stay. Don't you want to?"

"It's not that simple." He curled his tail up around his body and rested his head on his knees.

"Then tell me why it's complicated."

"I don't know!"

Samaki sat, watching him. Kory avoided looking at those violet eyes because he knew the hurt in them would make him want to cry, and he didn't want to cry. "Is it getting to school? We can work out something where I could--"

"It's not that." He kept his voice flat.

"Is it me?"

Kory couldn't stand the twisting in his heart. He stared at the water. "I don't want to take your family's money. You need it to go to college."

"Money?" Samaki sounded incredulous. "This is about money?" He reached out and grabbed Kory's shoulder. "I don't believe you."

Kory turned. "I've never lied to you."

Violet eyes widened, ears folded back. "I'm not accusing you of lying. Is that really it? That's all there is?"

"I told you, I don't know! It's not simple! It just doesn't feel...it doesn't feel right!"

The paw dropped away from Kory's shoulder. Samaki's eyes narrowed. He studied Kory, searching the otter's face. Finally, he uncurled his tail and got to his feet. "It feels right to me," he said. "Maybe I'm just imagining things, then. Maybe you'd rather be with Hazel the squirrel?"

Kory jerked his head up. "Why would you even think that?"

"I don't know. What am I supposed to think? You don't want to be seen with me in public, you still haven't answered about the prom, you don't want to be close unless you can leave. Am I just an experiment?" Samaki's tail lashed against the bed. He wasn't looking at Kory. "I know you don't like it here, but you'd rather be here than with me? Tell me what that means."

"I like it fine here." After all they'd been through, Samaki would really think he was just an experiment? He wanted Kory to protest that, was manipulating him into a corner where Kory would have to confess his feelings and that he was the one being irrational. He splashed a paw in the water.

Samaki got up from the bed and paced back and forth. "I really do care for you, Kory. I know you've gone through a lot with being kicked out of your house, and I tried to be patient. I just can't understand why you keep me at arm's length. I've been waiting for you to let me get closer, but I don't want to wait around forever if it's never going to happen. Is it? If this isn't going anywhere, maybe we should just..."

"Closer? Do I have to move in with you to be your boyfriend now?"

Samaki's ears flicked. "Of course not. And you should know better than to think that."

"I should know a lot of things I don't. Like why I'm going through all this for you if you're not going to help me."

"For me?" The fox raised his voice. "I didn't ask you to curse at your mother."

"I wouldn't have been kicked out of home if not for you," he snapped.

The fox stared at him, moisture gathering in the corners of his violet eyes. "So you want to go back home." His tail was curled tightly underneath him, his ears flat. "Is that what you really want?"

His whole body felt hot. He stared down at his paws. "No," he said, but his voice was shaky. He curled his own tail around his legs and squeezed the tip.

"Maybe we shouldn't be seeing each other. Then you could go home, and I could find someone..." Kory didn't have to look up to see the tears in the black fur of Samaki's muzzle. This was going all wrong. But maybe Samaki had a point. If they couldn't be together, what was the point of fooling themselves any longer?

"Kory?"

He looked up reflexively at the sound of his name. Samaki was leaning against the doorframe, his head angled forward into the room. The large black ears had come up. "Am I wasting my time?"

Why did he have to make all the decisions? "I don't know! Give me a little space!" As soon as he said it, he knew it was the wrong thing to say, but he couldn't take the words back.

Samaki sagged against the frame. He wiped his muzzle, and then spoke in an oddly calm voice. "Maybe you're right. Maybe you do need some space. I'm sorry I thought differently."

He was gone before Kory could think of anything to say.

His first reaction was anger. After the week he'd had, getting kicked out of Sal's house--the second house in as many months--and after the issue with Sal himself and the kids at school, what he needed was a sympathetic boyfriend, someone who'd hold him and say everything was going to be all right because they were together. He didn't need to have his faults pointed out, or the decisions that even he didn't quite understand second-guessed.

He slipped back into the water and lay there looking at the ceiling, brooding and hurting. How much easier it would be if he weren't really gay after all. What if it had just been Samaki who'd entranced him? He still thought girls were pretty. Maybe he just hadn't met the right one. It occurred to him that perhaps his reluctance to move in with Samaki was due to his not being comfortable with the relationship, that that was a sign that he wasn't really gay. And if he wasn't really gay, then Samaki would be right, and he had no business being at Rainbow Center. That would just be perfect. His stuff was already packed to move. He could go home.

What happens to foxes who fall in the water? Looking up at the ceiling with the water flowing around him reminded him of the afternoon Malaya had left, when he and Samaki had done it here in the room, partly in the water. His body tingled with just the memory of the sensations, from his sheath down to the tip of his tail and up to the tips of his ears. His heart throbbed in sympathy. The smell of Samaki still lingered in the air, or was it just his memory? Kory remembered their caresses, how bad he'd felt about Malaya and how Samaki was able to take that all away and make it better. He wanted that, he did, but he didn't want anyone else to have to know about it.

So why did it feel so good when Malaya called Samaki his boyfriend? Was it the danger, the thrill? Was it that it was safe for her to acknowledge their relationship? And why couldn't he talk to Samaki about this?

All the things he'd gone through were no excuse. Why couldn't he just let Samaki make him feel better? Why did things have to spiral out of control like that? Maybe it wasn't that he wasn't gay; maybe it was that he wasn't suitable to be with anyone. Maybe he needed to find someone else like himself, someone content to keep their relationship in the shadows, out of the light.

Someone else who was as ashamed of him as he was of them. The throbbing in his heart moved up into his throat, closing it off and squeezing his eyes shut. He turned over out of habit so his tears would leak into the water, pressing his paws to his eyes and shaking with quiet sobs.

Maybe Malaya was right after all, and the world was not a nice place. It had taken a remarkably short time for Kory to lose everything: home, friends, boyfriend. He envisioned Margo's smiling face telling him it was going to be all right, and for a moment, he understood Malaya's running away perfectly.

Long after the sobs had drained from him, leaving him weak, he lay in the water. Eventually he pulled himself up and rested his elbows on the mat, laying his head on his forearm. He was hungry, too, but had no desire to leave the room. Upstairs, they were serving lunch, or would be soon, but even through his hunger, the thought of food made him nauseous. All he could see was Samaki cheerfully slicing a sandwich, making one for Kory just the way Kory liked it, laughing at him for choosing the American cheese over Swiss.

If he didn't go upstairs, he'd never have to face that memory. And Samaki might still be up there, and what would he say then? Better to wait until dinner. Or breakfast tomorrow. Or dinner tomorrow. Dully, he tried to make himself focus on the ache inside his stomach, but he suspected that it was an emptiness that couldn't be filled by food.

Steps clicked at his door, but the smell was cigarette smoke, not fox. "Welcome back," Malaya's husky voice said.

He lifted his head. She'd gotten some of her wardrobe back: the black leather vest and mini-skirt, and the piercings in her left ear. The right bore ragged scars along its edge, and no silver at all. On the cast on her arm, he recognized the signatures of the kids from the center, around which she'd drawn skulls and daggers in thick black marker. The other wing was stretched to its fullest across the span of the doorway, as though compensating for the broken one.

"Same to you," Kory said.

"What'd you say to Blackie?" she asked, staying in the doorway. "He sulked around upstairs not saying two words to anyone and then he took off."

Kory closed his eyes. "We had a fight, I guess."

"You guess?" She chuckled. "If you don't know, then it wasn't a fight." When he didn't answer, she walked in and stood over him. "So? Was it a fight?"

He lay back, glaring up. "I never had a fight in a relationship before."

"Then you were never in a real relationship. Didn't you date anyone before Samaki?"

He closed his eyes. "Go away."

She laughed and sat on the bed. "Dream on. Are you mad at him but mad at yourself, too? Wish you could take back some stuff and wish you'd said more?"

Now he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her. "Kind of."

"Okay. Congratulations, you've had your first fight. If you stay together, you get to have make-up sex, which is pretty awesome if you don't ruin it by having another fight in the middle of it."

"I dunno," Kory said. "Maybe this whole 'gay' thing was just a mistake."

She just stared at him. "Are you serious?"

"It would make things so much easier. Maybe this isn't what God wants for me. Maybe this was just a test."

Malaya opened her good wing. "What God wants? You wanna talk about what God wants? Look at this." The leathery skin rustled as she shook the wing. "I got wings. Can I fly? Can I glide more than twenty feet? This is some kind of joke. What does God want me to do with these wings? Fuck what God wants. What do you want?"

His depression withered under her vehemence. "I don't know. That's part of the problem."

"Okay, then, here." She pulled a rolled-up magazine from inside her vest and tossed it onto the nearby mat. "Take a look at that."

B.A.T.s, blared the cover in bright red letters like a theater marquee. On the front, a buxom female bat pinched the nipples on breasts the size of her head, her wings strategically hiding her sex, but not much else. Kory looked up from the cover at Malaya. "You just carry this around with you?"

"Bushytail confiscates 'em if I leave 'em in my room. Go ahead, look through it."

He pulled himself all the way onto the mat and flipped the pages, past photo after photo of different kinds of bats showing off their immense chests, plump rear ends, and full-lipped genitals. As he flipped through, he found himself more interested in the different species; most were large-eared, small-nosed bats, not like Malaya. The few fruit bats who were in the magazine had more attractive faces, he thought. He got to the last well-worn page and tossed the magazine back to Malaya. "And?"

"There you go," she said, picking up the magazine and tucking it back into her vest. "You're gay."

"Huh?"

"Well, first, you didn't stop to stare at any of the pictures. Second, those shorts you're wearin' don't look any tighter now than when you started. So I'm guessing none of those really did anything for you. Me, I can't get four pages into this without getting all wet. So, y'know, don't sweat that. You're better off anyway. Women are bitches."

"Thanks. I don't really know if I feel better."

"Hey, us faggots have to look out for each other." She leaned back on the bed, cradling her broken arm in her lap.

Kory rested his arms on the floor and his head on his arms. "So what now?"

"Hell, I don't know," Malaya said. "Maybe you get back together, maybe you don't. You're gonna break up eventually. Maybe this is it. Better to get it over with, eh?"

Kory lowered his head. "I wish it were that easy."

"Make it easy, then. What's the problem?"

"The problem is I don't know what the problem is!" he cried.

He listened to the ripples of water and the rustle of bat wings fill the space until she said, "You want me to tell you?"

Kory snorted. "Go for it."

"You and I got the same problem. We're trying to figure this whole fucked-up thing out on our own. Dating's hard enough without knowing what to do with gay dating. Can't talk to our parents, can't talk to our friends, and we can barely talk to each other."

"I dunno," Kory said. "I wasn't that good at dating girls, either."

"Course not. Your heart wasn't in it. Well, your dick wasn't in it." She flashed a quick grin.

He opened his mouth to argue, but he couldn't, really. "Well, I guess not."

She waved her good arm, the wing trailing over his sheets. "So you'll make up with Blackie or not. If you want to, just call him."

"I can't," Kory said. "He said we needed some space." He couldn't bear the thought of going to Samaki and trying to talk and being pushed away again. Besides that, he was still mad at Samaki for judging him so quickly, for not giving him more time to figure things out, and for walking out on him. And there was a little voice in his head saying that those things they'd said couldn't be taken back, and maybe the whole relationship was ruined now. "He's just so...so used to it. He doesn't care if everyone knows about us." Because the Starbucks cup was just sitting there, he picked it up and took a sip. The latte was cold, undrinkable.

He'd expected Malaya to be on his side, after her experience with her father. "And you do?"

"Well...yeah."

She smirked back. "Why you think I ended up in the hospital?"

He stared at the cast as she held it up. "Uh, because your homophobic asshole father caught you looking at Vogue?"

"Wrong." She pointed the magazine at him. "If he didn't know I'm gay, he could've caught me looking at this and he wouldn'ta cared."

"But he found out. You said he caught you and Jen..."

She laughed. "You think he'da caught us if I didn't want him to? I'm not that stupid. And he is."

He shook his head. "Why?"

"I thought you understood about life," she said, looking down at him. "No point sugarcoating it. Y'are what you are. If the world can't deal with it, fuck 'em. But don't hide it. That's just wishing, pretending it ain't true."

"So you'd rather get beat up than just keep your private life private?"

She held up the cast again. "This heals faster."

"Right." He snorted, and looked down at the mat.

Malaya shrugged. "Okay, well, I need a smoke. I'm gonna head upstairs."

"I thought you quit."

She grinned at him. "Old habits. You coming to lunch?"

"I guess," Kory said. She nodded and waved, gliding through the door.

He heard movement over his head, and looked up, and something clicked, something Nick had said. It wasn't much help now, but it gave him something to do, and in the meantime he could dig through his boxes for a notebook and try to write some poems. Maybe someday someone would understand the way he felt.

*

At first, his old church felt like nothing more than that: old and uncomfortable. He'd gotten up at six in the morning to catch the series of busses here, and he kept yawning, sitting way in the back. He hadn't seen his mother arrive, and was deliberately not looking at the place where she normally sat. She wasn't who he'd come here to see. He'd waited outside and come in late, sitting far in the back so she and Nick wouldn't notice him.

The feeling of the church changed when Father Joe stepped up to the altar. With his first words, Kory felt a small shiver and the comfort he hadn't felt in months, the feeling of belonging. He closed his eyes, listening to a well-known story about the Pharisees, and their love of laws, how they had tried to catch Jesus in contradictions by questioning him on the law, but that he rose above them.

Kory sang all the hymns, but didn't go up front for communion. When the congregation started to file out, he pulled the hood of the sweatshirt he'd borrowed from the Rainbow Center up over his head, and bowed as though in prayer. The pose started as disguise, but as he remained stationary, listening to the easy conversations of the people walking past him, it became genuine. In school, the scents of the students battled in the small classrooms, established pockets that met in chaotic fronts in the wide, low halls. Here in the church, the high roof allowed the scents of the congregation to mingle freely, and the old aromatic wood contained and supported them. Everyone had room. Instead of being pushed together and tense, they were able to keep their own distance and commingle pleasantly. He felt somehow that that was significant.

A hand fell lightly on his shoulder. He looked up into the soft brown eyes of Father Joe. "It's good to see you again, Kory," he said.

"I thought," Kory said, "you might need some help with the hymnals."

They sat together at the front of the church, the books piled between them. "I remember that sermon from years ago," Kory said. "I think I understand it a little better now."

"I didn't choose it for you," Father Joe said, "but I did feel that it would be right as I was preparing this week. When I saw you in the back of the church, I knew why."

Kory's ears came up. "You think it applies to me?"

"Well, it applies to everyone." Father Joe smiled. "But I think it has particular insight into your problem."

"You think so?"

"Jesus's first law was love. When he spoke to the Pharisees, he told them that the laws they loved so much were made for the weakness of people."

"But aren't we supposed to fight our weaknesses?"

Father Joe shook his head. "We had this conversation before. I don't think that love is a weakness."

Kory turned that word over in his head, until Father Joe broke the silence. "I read your essay."

"Any suggestions? I can still change it."

Father Joe's horns bobbed as he nodded. "Your essay is difficult because you're attempting to demonstrate proof of that which we take on faith. But it's not uncommon, and you go about it well. I notice that you reference C.S. Lewis, which is a nice touch, but your essay is still missing something." He looked at Kory, who remained quiet. "You ask, 'Does God love me?' You spend a good deal of space talking about the elements in your life that support or counter that proposition. But I can guess at what prompted this question. And that you don't talk about."

Now he waited for Kory to answer. Kory sighed. "No, I don't."

"I think that shows."

Kory stared down at the stone floor of the church and pressed his feet against it. It was chilly under his pads. "I just didn't want to tell everyone in the admissions group..."

He waited for Father Joe to say, "I know," or something like that, but when he turned, the priest's expression was patient, expectant. He lowered his ears. Phrases like "about my friend" and "about my situation" rolled through his head, but the solemnity of the church and the sheep's deep brown eyes drove them out. He thought about Malaya's words, about hiding, and took a breath. "That I'm gay."

The word hung between them, echoing up into the rafters. The saints continued to smile, the candles continued to burn, and the Lamb on the cross looked down at Kory with sympathy. He heard the echoes die, and looked up to the rafters, where the wood that held so many scents and secrets now held one more. The beams were strong; they held.

Father Joe nodded, the only change in his expression the faintest hint of a smile, turning up the corners of his mouth. "But it is a part of you. And what, in the past year, has been the best evidence that God loves you?"

Violet eyes and black fur. "Samaki," Kory whispered.

*

Malaya came to see him that evening as he floated in the pool. She took a seat on his bed with an ease that had become familiar already. "Still upset about your fight?"

Kory shook his head. "I called him on the way home and left a message. Told him I was sorry and that I didn't want space, I wanted to be with him so that we can work things out. I still don't know why I'm scared to go live with him, but I'll figure it out with him."

Her good wing rattled. "Jen asked me to move in with her."

"Just now?" Her housing problem might be solved after all.

She shook her head, slowly. "A week before Dad caught us."

"Why didn't you?"

"It was too much. I wasn't ready for full-on dykehood yet."

Kory's tail glided back and forth in the water, creating ripples that spread up his chest and lapped against his chin. "Are you now?"

"Maybe. If the right girl came along, which she won't."

"You don't think so?"

Malaya grinned at him. "She doesn't exist, see? So she can't really come along. I'm stuck liking girls without a girl to like."

"You'd be better off with Jen than with your father."

"Not really," Malaya said casually. "She used to hit me too. The only difference was she'd say she was sorry and kiss me afterwards."

"Ugh." Kory closed his eyes. "You need to find someone who'll treat you nicely."

Her wing rustled, and she let out a sigh. "I'm fine on my own."

The sharp trill of the cell phone pierced the silence. Kory splashed out of the water, scrambling to the little device. He registered Samaki's number before flipping it open. "Hello?"

The moment dragged on. He knew that it would be okay, but he had to hear it to quiet that last doubting piece that said that Samaki would have reconsidered, would have found someone else, would have decided that he wasn't worth the trouble. The fox's voice, gentle and affectionate, was music to his ears. "Hi, hon," Samaki said.

He gave Malaya a huge smile and a thumbs-up. She smiled back, got to her feet, and padded quietly from the room.