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“Yeah, the whole family knows. It’s no big deal. One night at dinner I said, ‘Mom, you know the forbidden love that Spock has for Kirk? Well, then you should understand me liking guys. I’m gay.’ ” He
I ate the mythology & dreamt. —YUSEF KOMUNYAKAA, “BLACKBERRIES”
She didn’t feel changed, but she did feel better. She was grinning like a fool, anxiety put to rest by silliness.
Corny poured himself a glass of Mountain Dew. “Can you drink soda?” “I think so,” Kaye said. “I could before.” He poured some in a mug and handed it over to her. She didn’t sip it—it was the same color as her skin.
The costumes were varied and completely unlike medieval clothes. They were more like some demented, organic couture. Collars rose like great fins. Outfits were composed entirely of petals or leaves. Ragged edges finished off lovely dresses. Ugly, strange, or lovely as the moon, none were plain.
“The wine?” “Not for me. So I drank it. I want everything that’s not for me.”
“I’m here because you are kind and lovely and terribly, terribly brave,” he said, voice pitched low. “And because I want to be.”
