After school that day, the band has a final, short practice out in the parking lot, and following that, we split up, eat, and then grab our uniforms. The first game is an away game at Pflugerville High School (quite a name, I know), so instead of just walking down to our stadium we all have to get onto a set of school busses.

Predictably, everyone in “the squad” made sure to sign up for the same bus, so I see Zoe is in a seat near the front right in front of Anja and Nova. The latter two are playing more video games. Not Pokémon this time, though past that I couldn’t tell you what it is. Whatever it is, it involves a lot of flying and shooting.

“Those two and their games,” I say to Zoe and I slide into the front seat next to her. “I haven’t played video games in a while, I’ve been too focused on school and band.”

“Same here,” Zoe says. “I used to play on the Wii a lot with my brothers. We loved to play Super Smash Bros.”

“I had that one for the GameCube,” I say. “Who was your favorite character?” (I ask this because I have a theory that which characters people choose in video games says a lot about their personality.)

“Kirby,” Zoe says. “What about you?”

“I found out that the best fighter is Samus,” I tell her. “Did you know Samus is actually a girl under that armor?”

“Oh yes!” Zoe says. “I can’t not know that, given how she has a tendency to strip down to a skin-tight suit…”

“She does that? Awwh, I should’ve played the Wii version,” I say.

Zoe giggles nervously again. I wonder if that joke was too dirty for her.

To tell the truth, I’ve never really been that interested in sports, so if I weren’t in band I probably wouldn’t bother showing up to the football games. Thankfully, being in the band gives me plenty to do during them.

After marching onto the fields in full uniform (a bit dramatic if you ask me,) we take our places in the stands to play some shorter pieces of music, most of which are based off of mainstream rock/pop songs, during the game. We don’t play the entire time, though, just whenever Mr. Castro says we can. There’s some sort of invisible calculus that band directors have to use to determine when the appropriate time is to play during the game.

Then, of course, there’s the halftime show, which is honestly the only part of this ordeal I was looking forward to. We play the beginning of the show we’ve been preparing for the past month now for contests. I’m glad that we have these games to act as a sort of trial run, because being out there on the football field for the first time is quite nerve wracking: in front of God and everyone, without the aid of the handy blue dots that are marked in the parking lot to help us find our spots. Given that our very first contest is tomorrow, it’s good to preliminarily get a feel for it. I think I pulled it off okay for the first time.

Then, the director has the mercy to give us most of the third quarter off, so that we can partially take off our uniforms and rest our faces. Since we aren’t playing for a bit, some people are crossing over into other sections to talk to their friends. I take this opportunity, first and foremost, to use the bathroom.

The bathroom at the stadium is terrible, which I suppose is to be expected. It’s filthy as all hell, and one of the two bathroom stalls is out of order. Nobody else is in there when I go except for Yonca, who waves at me but otherwise does not acknowledge me in any way. Which is just fine with me.

I’m a bit surprised to find Zoe standing outside when I exit the bathroom. She doesn’t make any move to go in after me, and instead just looks upon me, looking nervous about something.

“Hey Zoe,” I say to her. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” she says, before abruptly grabbing me and bringing me into a deep hug.

I’m taken by surprise, but I hug her back all of the same. I figure that the experience of playing the halftime show must have softened her up emotionally.

“Ashley,” she says, “You’ve been such a good friend to me…”

“Well, I do try,” I tell her. “I won’t deny that I have a soft spot for you.” (I dare not say more, of course.)

I was hoping that this bit of information would act as a pick-me-up, but to my surprise she begins sobbing on me.

“Hey,” I say to her gently as I remember something, “You seem to have been under a lot of stress recently. How about we step somewhere out of the way for a bit and talk?”

She nods at me, still sniffling, but if anything seems even more nervous than before. I figure that whatever’s going on, it must be weighing upon her very heavily.

We find a quiet spot behind the concession stands, in between that and the wire fence that separates us from the currently deserted main high school building.

When we get there, Zoe doesn’t seem to be in a big hurry. For a while, she just looks at the ground and sort of twitches nervously.

I am pretty well acquainted with her nervous habits, as she tends to act this way before major events which she’s worried about, like major tests or auditions. And as much as I am concerned for her in these situations, I cannot deny that there is something endearing about it all.

“Ashley,” she begins, “I really do… um… appreciate your friendship,” she tells me slowly. “It would really be…”

But she doesn’t seem to want to finish that thought, and she sort of curls up into a ball by grabbing her legs. Suddenly, I think I have a hunch as to why she’s acting like this.

“Zoe,” I begin, “You can tell me what’s going on. No matter what it is, I promise I won’t be mad.” I pause, and then add, “As long as, you know, you haven’t committed any felonies.”

She manages to weakly chuckle at this. This assurance does seem to make her feel a bit better, as she is now sniffling less frequently. And yet, I can still see terror in her eyes, like if there was a chance that an unseen sniper might take her out at any moment.

“Ashley… I…” and then she hangs on it, for a while. It’s getting to the point where it’s starting to get infuriating.

“You what?” I can’t help but to interject eagerly.

I guess this was the wrong thing to do, because she bursts into tears again.

I pull back towards me into a hug, and she returns it seemingly automatically and begins sobbing on the front of my shirt.

“It’s okay, Zoe,” I tell her soothingly. I’m not sure what compels me to do it, but I start running my fingers through her hair.

Then, unexpectedly, I hear her quickly say “Iloveyouashley.”

It takes me a few seconds before I process what she said. But then, I start to feel elated. Surely she can’t mean…

She’s looking up at me now, her eyes wide, seemingly trying to gauge my reaction to this proclamation. And all the while, I’m pressed up against her with my fingers in her hair. I have to admit, the whole scene does seem rather… romantic. The truth starts to truly sink in.

I put my hand on her cheek tenderly.

“Zoe…” I say to her, trying to think of some way to put my feelings into words.

“And I m-mean as more than friends!” she says to me fervently. She follows this up with a loud sniffle. “I just really think… you…”

This time, she doesn’t finish her sentence because I cut her off midway by leaning forward and kissing her on the lips.

Whenever we pull away, I see that Zoe looks pleased and is blushing furiously.

“Was... um… that your first kiss too?” she asks me.

“Wow, that obvious, huh?” I tease. She giggles, perhaps a little more loudly than necessary.

Suddenly, I think to turn around. Thankfully, I don’t see anyone watching us.

Zoe seems to be thinking along these same lines, because she suddenly pulls away from me, looking sheepish.

“Well, Zoe, I feel the same way,” I tell her. My phone vibrates, but I ignore it. “I have for quite some time, honestly.”

“Really?” she says, her eyes opening wide with amazement.

“Yes, and I’m very glad that you… Okay, what the hell is that?” I exclaim suddenly, as the sappy lecture I had been preparing is interrupted by my phone vibrating again.

“Oh, is your phone going off too?” she asks.

I take out my phone and see that the notifications are from Skype. I’ve apparently been added to a group chat with Zoe, Anja and Nova.

“Oh, that girl,” I say as my phone is loading the app.

The notifications were from Anja, who sent two messages to us: “Hey y’all,” and “Did you two kiss yet? -kissing emoji-”

I look up at Zoe, alarmed. “Has she been spying on us?” I ask. “How does she know?”

I’m surprised to see that Zoe is looking back at me with a smile. “Umm… no, she’s not spying. I… told her that I liked you,” she tells me.

“I didn’t think you two were close,” I tell her, surprised.

“We… weren’t,” she admits.

I have to admit, it’s a pretty great feeling, to know that, after all this time, Zoe actually feels the same way that I do. Especially with my last crush ending in such a total fiasco.

Of course, even now in my inner euphoria, I can sense problems and threats on the horizons. Zoe and I agreed to date in secret for the time being, because if what happened between us today became common knowledge… well, things could get ugly.

First of all, our classmates. I am well aware that the culture of our school is pretty fucked up. Bullies will take the slightest deviation from the norm and use it as an excuse to ostracize someone, or even downright turn them into a social pariah. Of course, I am not worried about this for myself. The aftermath of Aiko’s betrayal back in Concord forced me to get quite used to this behavior, so I am confident that I can withstand anything. But given that Zoe is caught up in this with me, it is certainly in my interest to keep our love a secret for her sake. She’s always been one of the lucky ones to escape the notice of the social hierarchy, so she’ll have never dealt with anything like that before.

Secondly, our parents. I, obviously, did not tell my parents about what happened between Aiko and I back in the day, and so I won’t be telling them about this. I suppose I don’t technically know how they would react, given that they have never indicated to me their feelings on this sort of thing. But, as a best-case scenario, I imagine that they would be under considerable pressure from their own peers to try and discipline me in some way or stop me from seeing Zoe. And as nice as they have always been towards me, I imagine Zoe’s parents to be in a similar boat.

Thirdly, on a related note, the church that Zoe and I attend. Unlike my parents, our church has made their feelings on same-sex relationships perfectly clear, and I do not see our relationship being received warmly, not while the majority of the membership seem to regard a nationwide legalization of same-sex marriage to be the equivalent of a second 9/11. (And that’s not an exaggeration, the pastor said something like that once. If that sounds like the most fucking batshit thing you’ve ever heard, join the club.) I don’t much fancy being pestered by random townsfolk every Sunday, so that’s yet another incentive to keep Zoe and I’s relationship under wraps. (I also don’t quite agree with the church’s attitude. Not just for self-interest reasons, but also on a theological and regular logical level. But now’s not the time to get into that, I’ve already been ranting for way too long.)

I try not to think about all that, at least beyond what it takes to not do something reckless in public. We go back into the stands together, and as we approach the middle where the saxes and mellos would normally sit (separated by the trumpets,) I see a tiny arm in the section behind mine that is waving frantically.

“We may as well oblige her,” I tell Zoe, “Since we’re still on break.”

Anja, the owner of the arm, is giving us a look so smug that I get a strange urge to backhand her across the face. Nova is, guess what. No really, guess. If your guess was “He’s playing his goddamn 3DS again,” you are correct!

“So,” Anja says, as we take a seat near her.

“So what?” I ask.

“How was it?” she asks, her eyes looking oddly hungry.

“How was what?” I ask, determined not to let her butt in on our business.

“Oh, come on, Ashley,” Anja replies, “I know what was going on down there.”

“Good for you,” I retort.

A few more moments pass in silence, as we just stare each other down. The silence (or relative silence, given how noisy everything is at the game), is interrupted by Nova, who suddenly looks up and asks, “What are you two doing up here?”

“Selling girl scout cookies,” I reply in what I hope is a scathingly sarcastic tone.

“You guys are in girl scouts?” Nova asks, looking genuinely interested.

“So,” Anja says dramatically, as if Nova had not interrupted the previous conversation. “Are you two officially...”

“Shut up!” I say, cutting her off. I look around to see if anyone is watching us. “We are, but don’t go around gossiping about us, it’s kind of a secret.”

“Oh really?” Anja asks. “I suppose I can’t blame you.”

“Yeah,” I reply, “But if one or both of us turns up dead on the side of the road, you have a good guess as to what happened.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’re going to turn up dead,” Anja says seriously. “Lesbians are far less likely to be victims of hate crimes than gay men. You see, the right’s fear of homosexuality is balanced out just enough by the straight man’s naughty, sexual joy of watching two women make out.”

“That’s our cue to leave,” I say, getting to my feet and taking a hold of Zoe’s arm, since otherwise I think I might actually hit her.

As I march us back to our rightful sections, I hear Zoe call to her, “Thanks for the help!”

Then, she turns back to me and asks, “You don’t think we’re going to be… you know…”

“Murdered? No, I was joking about that,” I assure her. “Of course, I’m not going to pretend that nothing bad would happen…”

On that ominous note, I am interrupted by orders to play “The Hey Song,” and so Zoe and I scuttle back to our respective spots.

The bus ride back home is a nice one. Due to the fact that by now it’s pitch black, we get away with holding hands. It’s nice.

However, at about the time we are cruising back into Enchantment City, Zoe turns to me and asks, “Ashley? Do you… think we’re doing something wrong in all of this?”

I turn to her and lock eyes. I had expected this to come up.

“No, not really,” I tell her. However, I can’t think of a way to explain myself without someone nearby overhearing what we’re talking about, so I tell her, “We’ll talk about it more later.”

She just looks back at me, still looking worried. I want so badly to embrace her, to feel her, to reassure her by any means necessary… but I don’t want to push our luck.

And it really is too bad. As we all tiredly saunter off the buses back at the school, I can’t help but to wish that I had left her on a more positive note.

Thankfully, I catch her just before she goes off to her mom’s car, so I hurriedly make a path through the percussionists, who are pushing all of the pit equipment back into the band hall.

“Want to come to my house after church on Sunday?” I ask.

She smiles at me. “That would be nice,” she says.

I can’t help myself any longer, so I pull her into one last hug before we go. She momentarily puts her sax down to hug me back.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” I whisper to her softly. “I promise.”

After we’re done, I watch her as she pulls open the door to her mom’s car, thinking that I wish I had a way of following up upon that promise.