“I made you a cake,” Wyatt said.
Izzy grinned and stepped back to allow him inside the trailer.
Wyatt thrust the container into his hands, and Izzy didn’t even look down at it.
“What?” Wyatt asked, suddenly self-conscious.
And then he remembered that he’d woken up today feeling decidedly not a boy, and his hair was out, and he was wearing a shirt that was definitely one of Harper’s hand-me-downs. It was a tunic, with flowers embroidered around the yoke. He’d worn it before and Patty had told him he looked like a flower child—she would know—but now, looking at Izzy, Wyatt knew he wasn’t seeing a boy pushing back against gender norms. Izzy wasn’t seeing a boy at all. He was seeing Wyatt.
“Do you like it?” Wyatt asked, feeling that same rush of courage he had on Saturday night