I can’t say I didn’t think about it, because I did. When I did, though, this time it was Loki’s disapproving face I saw.

He wouldn’t want me to be a cop. But I couldn’t keep getting into trouble like this. I resolved to try and avoid it until Christmas. At least Christmas. Hopefully my friends would too, because I knew how I was going to end up in trouble.

Because they were. But I decided to focus on something else. I managed to find Peter Bronson, who ran the gay-straight alliance, at lunch time the next day. Sat at the table next to him. “Uh…”

“If the question is can you talk, sure.” He was a slender boy of mixed race, with just a hint of the effeminate about him. I wouldn’t have called him girly or sissy, though.

“Yeah. I kinda need to talk. I’ve got a massive crush on another woman.”

“Which doesn’t always mean anything.”

I liked guys. Although Peter didn’t seem attractive at all. Maybe my subconscious knew he’d be more likely to go for Barry Clark. “Do people sometimes, uh, like both guys and girls?”

“People sometimes get confused,” he said, quietly. “As to what they like. Especially at our age. Not me. I knew I was gay when I was eight.”

I tried to imagine that level of surety about it. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to work things out, then.”

I’d wanted help, but he was just supporting my feelings and my confusion. Not in the good way.

“Whichever way you go, it’s fine. Just remember that. Don’t let society pressure you into pretending to be straight if you aren’t.”

My lips twitched. “I don’t let society pressure me.”

Or did I? I was doing a very feminine thing…but not entirely. There had been quite a few boys at the shoot too. Fashion needed boys and men almost as much as girls and women. But the emphasis on female clothing was definitely there.

“Good girl.”

I turned back to my lunch. I got the feeling he was hoping I’d turn out to be a lesbian, but that didn’t feel honest. I watched some of the other kids wander past, looking at both boys and girls.

Whichever way you go? I was supposed to make a choice, maybe, except that I’d seen Peter whup on somebody…literally…for saying it was a choice.

Except he seemed…oh, this was ridiculous. I wolfed down the rest of my food and fled the canteen faster than I probably should have right after eating.

It was all completely ridiculous. And I refused to make a choice.