I’d never actually donated blood before. Turns out there was a bit of paperwork involved. I wasn’t worried about my information ending up somewhere. We all had legal names for just such an occasion, and Espy would delete any files that ended up online.

There were quite a few college-aged kids in the waiting room. Supposedly the place also bought plasma. Why plasma was worth money and blood wasn’t was something I wasn’t exactly clear on.

I filled out the new patient documents and returned them to the desk. Even though I hadn’t been there long they called my name fairly quickly.

A pretty black girl with a nice smile came out to meet me, her kinky hair pulled into a tight bun. She looked about my age.

“Seth Jacobson?”

“That’s me.” I stood up.

“I’m Cami.” She gestured. “Right this way, please.”

“You seem a little young for a phlebotomist,” I said as she led me to a room with a chair and a table, and not much else. This place didn’t seem very...medical.

“I’m actually not yet,” she said. “You have to practice so many times before you’re certified.”

“Uh, practice?”

She grinned. “Don’t worry, I’m great at it. I’ve actually been in the program at RU…” (she pronounced it “rue”) “...for a whole semester already. I graduated high school early.”

“Wow.” That actually did soothe some of my unease. “You must be really dedicated.”

“I’m not sure dedicated is the word,” she demurred. “I’ve always known I wanted to help people. I started in CNA, but there’s so many different med programs. I haven’t decided if I want to stay in nursing or not. But enough about me.” She held up her clipboard. “Let’s talk about you. O-negative is the most in-demand blood type, did you know that?”

“I did, actually,” I replied. “The universal donor, right?”

Cami nodded. “Your blood type is needed in emergent situations when there’s no time to find out the patient’s own type. O-neg has the lowest risk of complications.”

“That’s why I’m here,” I said. “Trying to do my part, and all.”

“We appreciate it,” she said, serious. “You could help save a life today.”

“I’m all about saving people,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

“Alright, then.” She clicked her pen. “I have this questionnaire I have to ask you per the federal government, and it’s important to answer with complete honesty. Okay?”

I nodded.

The first few questions Cami asked me were fairly boring general health stuff, if I was on any medications, things like that. Then if I had donated blood or anything else recently. All of that was fine, and then we got to the next round of questions.

“Okay, for this section,” she began. “I need to know if you can answer ‘yes’ at any point for the last twelve months.”

“Got it.”

“Blood transfusion?”

I shook my head.

“Organ, skin, or bone marrow transplant?”

“Definitely not,” I said.

“Bone or skin graft?”

“Nope.”

“Contact with another person’s blood?”

Another person? “No.”

“Accidental needle-stick?”

My lips twitched. “Uh, no.”

“Had sexual contact with anyone with HIV or AIDS or has tested positive for either of those?”

“...No.”

“Sexual contact with a prostitute, or anyone that takes money or drugs for sex?”

That was an oddly specific question, but I said, “No.”

“Sexual contact with anyone who uses needles not prescribed by a doctor?”

“No.”

It seemed like she hesitated before asking the next one. “Sexual contact with another male?”

I blinked. “Does that matter?”

“It shouldn’t,” she said. “But unfortunately it does.”

“What if I said yes?” I asked. “What would you do?”

“Well, legally we’d have to defer your donation,” she said.

“Defer,” I repeated. “You mean I couldn’t donate?”

She nodded. “Not until there had been twelve months since your last contact.”

Something hot and constrictive swam through my chest.

“Let’s make sure I have this right,” I said. “Even though I have a rare, high-demand blood type, if I was sexually active with other males you would refuse to take it?”

Silently, she nodded again.

“Don’t you have to test all the donations for diseases and things anyway?”

Cami sighed. “Yes, we do.”

“Then why does it matter?”

“Because old white guys make the rules,” she said bluntly. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair. I don’t know if I’m supposed to say this, but I don’t agree with it either. Giving blood is one of the most selfless things you can do, and any healthy person that’s willing should be able.”

“But the world isn’t the way it ought to be,” I said, in more ways than she knew.

“No, it isn’t,” she agreed gently. “So is it a yes or no?”

“It’s a no,” I said.

I half expected her not to believe me, but Cami just marked the box and asked me the next question. Maybe she didn’t care if I was lying since she didn’t agree with the law. I was telling the truth, but how many guys in my position would be? Most eighteen-year-olds weren’t literal saints, and I was under the impression most hyletics didn’t make it to eighteen as virgins.

The mission was all that mattered, I knew that. I would have lied if I’d needed to, but it seemed so wrong that I might have to. I wanted to march myself and all my gay blood right out of there.

But I sat and watched the bag fill up with red.

“So most peeps our age are repeats around here.” Cami broke the silence. “But I haven’t seen you before. Ya new here?”

“I’m actually in town for the campus tour,” I said. “Thinking of going here this fall.”

A strange look flashed over her face for a second. Then it was gone. Another hyletic like her wouldn’t have seen it, but I did.

“What are your other choices?” She tried to keep her voice light, just making conversation, but she wasn’t quite good enough at it to fool a saint.

“What, sick of me already?” My voice, however, held exactly the right touch of humor.

“It’s not that,” she said. “It’s just, Rossberg has its problems, ya know?”

Something prompted me to ask, “Like the sheriff?”

“Christ, that asshole.” Her grimace was completely genuine. “I’d say he gives cops a bad name, but sadly Ross is pretty standard.”

“Ross?” I felt the prickle of excitement. “As in--”

“His great-whatever put the Ross in Rossberg.” She rolled her eyes. “And the whole fam never let’s you forget it. It’s all about having the right last name around here. Small town politics.”

“I’m familiar,” I said.

“It’s kind of gross, to be honest,” she went on. “There’s this whole founding fathers fellatio festival every summer. Everyone shows up to this town square BBQ and dance off thing. If you can call a bunch of rednecks moving their feet in a square dancing. It’s tomorrow night, actually.”

“You don’t say,” I murmured.

“It’s such a drag.” She leaned in and muttered, “I’d skip it if I could, but they talk shit about you for weeks if you don’t go.”

Despite myself, I cracked a grin.

“Anyways, looks like we’re done.” She fixed me up, pulling out a small juice and a muffin. “You can take a few minutes if you need. Some people get woozy afterward. Do I need to call a ride?”

“No, my..” (I couldn’t say brother, cover be damned.) “...friend is driving.”

“Perfect.” She stood up, picking up the bag of my blood. “Well, I better get this chilled. Thanks for coming in today. Really.”

“I’m glad I did,” I said. It wasn’t even a lie.

I finished my muffin before heading back to the lobby.