Page 46 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

Sadie’s three cadets—Carter, Jun, and Olivia—have the same map and compass, but I sent them in the opposite direction to us. When Olivia realized she wouldn’t be within interrogation distance of me, she fumed and scowled. I retaliated with a full-teeth smile. The goal is to meet up with them at the midpoint—a lookout ridge where you can practically see all the way to Windfall. Until then, I have Max to myself.

“Let’s take a break,” I tell my troops.

The girls stop and drop, immediately pulling out their phones. Scroll and gossip central. At least I got them to unplug when on their feet. Max searches the grass, clears away some sticks, and settles down with his backpack.

This is my cue, why I split up the group. Alone time with my son.

I read Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda in one sitting. And cried. Then I watched the movie on my laptop—because who knew it was a movie too—and I cried. No, I won’t ramble on about spoilers. Suffice it to say, navigating love and sexuality as a teen is some daunting shit. Also, I’m pretty sure the book isn’t geared toward ten-year-olds. The amount of swearing and general musings on sex would have most adults slamming on the parental controls. I’m not enough of a parent to control anything, and Sadie said she made it a point of not snooping through Max’s stuff. So here we are. Me reading and crying, while also laughing. Seriously, that Simon kid is hilarious. But I don’t know if my son is gay. I just need him to understand that it doesn’t matter who he loves or doesn’t love. All that matters is he’s okay and happy.

The gray sky stretches above us, a heavy awning casting a somber mood I will ignore. Stretching out my neck, I walk over and sit across from Max. He removes his carrot and celery sticks from his pack and offers me some. I grab a couple of carrots because I know he doesn’t like those. We munch. We drink water. I pretend I’m not freaking out that I’ll mess this up by saying the wrong thing and hurting him somehow.

A deep breath later, I say, “I read Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda.”

He freezes midreach for his water. “Why?”

Excellent question. Didn’t plan for this, but I certainly should have. I rub my jaw and shrug. “Saw it in your bag and thought it looked interesting.”

“Okay,” he says guardedly.

Yeah, it was an unconvincing answer. A pathetically subpar effort on my part. I need to veer closer to honesty here. Honesty with some facts omitted.

“Truth is,” I say, talking through the nervous vibrations of my heart, “I used to have this mini book club—just me and my mom. We’d pick apart novels, debating what we liked and didn’t like. But we don’t live in the same city anymore, and I miss those talks. When I saw your book last time, I thought it would be fun to read something different. Maybe talk about it with you, if you’ve finished it.”

He picks at the grass, shreds a blade into thin strips. He grabs a broken branch next and picks at that. Eventually, he looks at me. “Did you like the book?”

“Like? Nope.” Max’s face falls, and I grin. “I loved the book.”

“Really?” He’s gawking so hard he’s liable to catch flies with his mouth.

“What’s not to love? I mean, that Martin guy deserves a shot to the neck, and I hate how social media like Tumblr tears people down, but the writing was brilliant. Simon was impulsive and funny and kind of broke my heart a few times.” Hence the crying. “It was a fantastic book.”

Brightness shines from his dark eyes, or maybe that’s the sun finally peeking through the clouds. “You really read it.” A statement still tinged with surprise.

“Hell yeah. What about you? Did you like it?”

He blushes. “I actually read it twice.”

“Because you have killer taste.” I wince at how over the top I sound. Like I’m an outcast desperately trying to be liked. I grab a matching stick to his, peel it like he’s doing, going for nonchalant when I’m having an internal earthquake. “What do you say we ask each other questions about the book? Book-club-level questions only.”

His stick stripping gets intense. “What are book-club-level questions?”

“Deeper questions, digging into how the characters felt. I can go first.” He nods and lowers his shoulders a fraction. I forge on. “So, Maximillian.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s just Max.”

“So, Just Max. OREOs—why do you think Simon liked OREOs over all the other cookie options out there?”

He smiles, and my internal earthquake decreases from a five on the Richter scale to a four. “I think,” he says, “it’s having the hard and soft together. The squishy inside and crunchy cookie part. Simon is kind of deep, always analyzing stuff. He probably liked thinking about it, and how they separate is fun.”

“Totally agree. Your turn.”

He tosses his naked branch and grabs another. “Why do you think Simon liked listening to Elliott Smith so much?”

“Have you listened to Smith?”

He nods. I guess we both tried to get into Simon’s head.

“Did you like it?”