Page 36 of Elemasters

“Because I don’t really know if he truly sees me as a girl. No matter how hard I try, it feels like no one does. Not really,” a few stray tears fell, soaking into the carpet and disappearing in an instant, “it feels like I’m constantly performing, you know? Not the ‘being a girl’ part, but the constant need to prove I’m one. Some days I’d love to come to class in sweats and old combat boots, but instead I have to wake up extra early to put on a whole face of makeup and regularly touch up my neon dye job. It’s fucking exhausting. Maybe that’s why my stupid powers haven’t manifested yet. I can’t “ground the team” if my walls are always up,”

“Bailey,” Chloe cut her off, pulling her into a hug before more tears could fall, “it doesn’t matter how you dress, how much makeup you wear, or anything else. You’re a girl regardless, you know that. And Chris knows that too,”

“I know, I know” Bailey sniffled, “usually I couldn’t give less of a fuck about what people think, but with Chris it’s just… different. I guess I’m just afraid of what might happen if he reacts in a way that’s even kinda negative, you know? That might be the straw that finally breaks me,”

“He won’t Bailey, he’s crazy about you. Maybe you making the first move is just the last push he needs to fully realize that,” Chloe replied, digging a travel pack of tissues out of her clutch and passing them to Bailey, “besides, even if he doesn’t wanna date you, never let a boy be the straw that breaks you,”

The girls laughed in unison as Bailey blotted her eyes carefully to avoid smearing her mascara. As the tension finally let up, Chloe felt a warmth settle in her chest that she hadn’t known since childhood; real friendship. Unfettered from social dynamics or high school politics. Just two girls hanging out.

“I’m pretty sure this dress is the one, so we’ve got plenty of time to kill. Why don’t we find you something hot to wear, so when you ask Chris out he can’t possibly resist,”

Bailey’s eyes widened.

“You want me to buy something from Albatross and Finch? How much do you think I make working part time at Dollar General?”

“Who said you were paying?” Chloe hopped to her feet, helping Bailey stand, “let’s go,”

PART II: JAMES ZHANG

James loved his parents. He really, genuinely did. But sometimes they had a way of being… far too much.

They weren’t assholes in the way you’d likely expect from a multi-millionaire couple; not cold, distant, or hyper-controlling the way his grandparents wanted them to be. They’d made it very clear that they wanted their parenting style to be laid back; they had always given James the space he needed to explore his interests and identity… but unfortunately sometimes they were a bit too invested.

And that was why he was currently sitting at the head of their obnoxiously long dining room table, picking over a bowl of salad (he couldn’t find a way to tell his parents that he couldn’t eat it anymore… not since he could literally feel the anguish of the lettuce thanks to his ring) while they tried to inconspicuously grill him about his dating life.

Apparently Chloe’s lip gloss had been eaten by the couch cushions during one of their training sessions, and ever since his mom found it, she hadn’t stopped asking questions.

“I told you guys, she’s just my friend!” James insisted, aimlessly twirling his fork around, “while you guys were camping with your nature buddies, I invited some friends over to study. It was no big deal,”

“Studying huh?” his father smirked, dabbing at the corners of his heavily mustached mouth with a napkin, “well… I hope you’re using protection son,”

“Jesus Christ,” James groaned, “FRIENDS,”

“We understand,” his mother quickly added, sipping her wine, “I didn’t think you’d be into casual group sex, but we’re not here to judge,”

“Am I talking to the wall right now?” James mumbled to himself, stabbing a tomato like it had personally offended him, and then recoiling when he felt its pain shooting up his arm.

He knew he should just tell them about Dustin, he wanted to, it was just that… they had a history of scaring off anyone he’d ever brought home. They brought a certain, “we overshare everything and have zero boundaries” vibe to the function that very few teenagers appreciated. James knew Dustin; he was still learning to push his way out of the shell he’d constructed for himself, so the last thing he’d respond well to was James’s parents asking if he topped or bottomed for their son.

He'd wait. Maybe he’d introduce Dustin to them at Thanksgiving, that was only a couple of weeks away. Or maybe Christmas break? Two whole weeks off school seemed like a good time to ease Dustin into the idea. Or maybe at his parents’ New Year’s party? That way they’d be too distracted with the other guests to ask embarrassing questions.

Actually, he’d probably just wait until Prom night. That sounded like a much better plan.

“Oh no Carter, he’s overthinking again,” his mother’s overly-saccharine voice got James out of his own head, “maybe I should get my notepad, and we can move to the foyer for an impromptu session?”

James grimaced at the thought, but thankfully his dad spoke up for him.

“I don’t think you need to put your psych degree to use here Malaya,” he chuckled, “maybe he just needs some space,”

“Yes! Exactly, thanks dad,” James said, bolting up from his seat like an inmate that had been miraculously freed from death row, “he could absolutely use some space right now,”

James didn’t even wait to hear if they protested; he abandoned his salad and headed up to his room as quickly as he could, finally exhaling once the door closed and he was alone with his plants.

Having a therapist for a mother was great sometimes… until she was constantly trying to diagnose him and turning simple conversations into fucking appointments. It was like she viewed him more like a client than a son half the time; like a puzzle to be solved instead of a person to be loved.

It’d always been bad, but it had gotten considerably worse after that car accident.

He empathized with her, of course; she’d almost lost her son that night, and the noticeable shift in his behavior after his recovery was clearly some kind of trauma response. Sure, he told himself that he was just taking life by the short hairs, refusing to waste his second chance… but how true was that really? Was it really a zest for life, or was he just trying to distract himself so he didn’t focus on the near-death experience and go insane?