Idlewild

by James Frankie Thomas

Once again, the simplest explanation—that Fay was, like me, shy and awkward and struggling with the whole friendship thing—didn’t occur to me. In class, onstage, online, she was so unfailingly cool and in control. I thought her face-to-face standoffishness had to be deliberate, a riddle she was waiting for me to crack. And suddenly I had an idea for how to crack it. “You might actually like The Scarlet Letter,” I said. “It’s kind of gay.” Her head snapped toward me. “Really?” “Totally,” I said. “This guy Chillingworth is obsessed with the Reverend Dimmesdale.” I didn’t really stand by this theory, but it didn’t matter. Fay was looking me right in the eye. “I thought he was obsessed with what’s-her-name,” she said. “That’s what Ms. Caputo wants you to think,” I said.