Chapter 17

“Looks like fun,” Meagan observed when the line slowed. “Anyway, is it true, what they say?”

“Is what true?” I asked.

“That you’re…you know.”

She made a slightly disgusted but apologetic face.

“That I’m what?” I pressed.

“You know,” she said breezily.

“Is that important to you?” I asked.

“Aren’t you afraid you’re going to get AIDS?”

Wow.

“It’s just that I’ve never met anyone who was actually…you know,” she added.

“You can say it,” I pointed out.

“Well,” she said softly. “Gay.” She drew a long face when she said the word to emphasize how new it was on her lips.

“How charming,” I said, hoping to make light of it. “Hang around for any length of time and you might meet a black person too, and maybe even an Asian. Shit, maybe even a Catholic or a Muslim or an illegal immigrant or someone from Tennessee. You might even meet a man who wears a frikkin’ dress.”

“God, I hope not!” she exclaimed, horrified.