One of the Boys

“Mom, I want all my friends at my party!” Mayim knew she was raising her voice, which wouldn’t help her case, but moms were so frustrating. “Not just my friends who are girls.” She didn’t add that she only had one friend who was a girl, or that she didn’t really get along with the girls in her class.

“I know, sweetheart,” Mayim’s mom answered, sighing. “But most girls have slumber parties for their thirteenth birthdays, and we are certainly not having a co-ed sleepover!”

Mayim shook her head. “I don’t want a slumber party. I want a party at the splash park, with outdoor games. Then it can be co-ed, right?”

Mom sighed again. “I don’t know. Most girls—”

“MOM,” Mayim interrupted. “Do I LOOK like most girls?”

Mom looked her up and down: knee-length khaki shorts, white t-shirt, lingering on her hair. They’d argued for weeks before she’d gotten to do what she wanted. Now, her light brown hair was short at the back, a bit longer on top; for summer, she’d bleached the front part and dyed it teal. “No, I guess not,” Mom said finally. “A party at the splash park?”

“YES,” Mayim begged. “Please?”

* * *

The weather was June-perfect. 87 degrees: hot enough to play in the water, but not unbearable out of the water. Sunny, but with little fluffy clouds, so not too bright. “Perfect,” Mayim repeated as she and Mom set out the food for the party.

Jeb, Bruce, and David were already there, setting up games. Mayim glanced over, envying their swim trunks; boys didn’t have to wear clothes over their suits. Savannah was helping with the food. That was everybody Mayim actually cared about. The girls from her class, and one or two other boys, were supposed to come, but Mayim almost hoped they would forget.

Mom had let her pick the food she wanted, so there were barbecue chicken sandwiches, watermelon, massive piles of individual-sized potato chip bags, and slices of chocolate cake, rich and chocolatey and with way too much frosting; Mayim really loved frosting.

“Mayim,” Jeb yelled. “Isn’t everything set yet? Come play in the water until it’s time!”

Mayim slipped off shorts and t-shirt, knowing if she got her suit wet it would show when she dressed again. At least her new tank suit with racerback crisscrosses covered her stomach, which was nice; she’d searched forever for a modest one that looked cute. “Savannah, are you coming?” she asked, and they raced to the splash pad.

The party was almost perfect. They played in the water for half an hour before anyone else showed up, splashing and shouting and running and doing all the loud, fun things Mayim loved, then toweled off and threw shorts back on over their swimsuits (Mayim pointedly ignored her mom’s look as the water soaked through her shorts, praying nobody commented). The boys started games of Ultimate Frisbee and balloon darts and a life-sized Kerplunk game Bruce had made (he was the Pinterest type). Mostly the other girls didn’t join the games, instead talking and sometimes cheering the boys on, which was good because Mayim didn’t have to pretend they weren’t terrible at Frisbee.

It wasn’t until they stopped to eat that Mayim had to chat with anyone. She sat on her beach towel on the grass, sandwich and watermelon on a plate, three bags of sour-cream-and-onion chips beside her, ignoring her mom’s look again. She, Bruce, Jeb, and Savannah laughed as David told them about the summer camp pranks he and his friends pulled, and the number of floors they had to scrub when the counselors caught them.

“Mayim,” Mom said, appearing above them, “are you making sure to include all your guests?”

Mayim looked around, surprised. She had honestly forgotten about the girls. “Is anyone not having fun?” she asked, knowing that wasn’t really what Mom meant.

“Sweetheart,” said Mom, and Mayim flinched. It was such a girly nickname. “As a good hostess…”

“Okay, Mom,” she interrupted before her mom could mention hospitality. “I’ll be back, guys,” she said. Taking a chip bag with her, she drifted over to the circle of girls who were not her friends. “How is everyone enjoying the food?” she asked awkwardly.

“We were wishing there was a salad option,” answered Devyn, definitely the popularity queen. “Watermelon is nice, though,” she added. Mayim smiled.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Watermelon is my favorite.” She made herself stay for four more sentences, but when she ran out of chips and didn’t have anything to do with her hands, she started back, passing the moms standing and watching the party.

“Devyn is so picky,” a mom was saying, so it was easy to guess whose mom.

“I wish Mayim were more picky,” said Mayim’s mom, and Mayim blushed, dropping her empty bag into a trash container. She reached for another. “She eats simply everything.”

“Devyn would like more things if she would try them. Games and sports, too. I envy Mayim’s courage. She’s never afraid to be one of the boys.”

Mayim felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. Taking her chips, she hurried back to her towel, not wanting to hear Mom’s reply.

“Mayim,” Bruce called. “Jeb is about to tell us how he totally bombed at basketball last week. Hurry up!”

Smiling, pretending everything was still fine, Mayim sat back down on her towel. She ate and listened to her friends’ stories and told a few of her own, and when Bruce said, “It’s pretty hot. Want to splash again?” she ditched her shorts and raced them to the splash pad, winning as always because she was the fastest.

* * *

In her room that evening, showered and wearing dry clothes, Mayim flung herself across her bed, wondering what had bothered her so much. Didn’t she like playing with boys better than hanging out with girls? Didn’t she specifically insist on outdoor games, and wish for a boy swimsuit, and that her mom wouldn’t use a girly nickname?

But I don’t want to BE a boy, she thought. I’m still a girl. I LIKE being a girl. Why are my choices being a boy, or being girly? Can’t I be a girl and also like playing games?

Frustrated, she threw a stuffed bear across the room. It hit her window with a thump, denting her closed blinds, which sprang back. The sound was satisfying, so she flung a stuffed dog after it, and another bear. One of the boys. Is that what boys think, too? The girls in her class giggled about cute boys, wondering who would have the first boyfriend, who might get their first kiss. Mayim didn’t have a crush on anyone in particular; her three friends were all cute, but she enjoyed hanging out with them too much to ruin it with “like-liking.”

Neither she nor Savannah wanted a boyfriend, but they talked about who was cute. I MIGHT want a boyfriend sometime, she thought. What if boys never think of me that way?

Mayim felt like she might cry, which she hated, so she hurled a stuffed walrus at the window. The thump-spring of the blinds helped. She stood and picked up the small pile of creatures on the floor. A knock on her window startled her, and she dropped them again. She stood there dumbly for a moment, and the knock came again. Bruce, she thought, opening the blinds.

Bruce lived next door; her window was on the side that faced his house. They often sat on the flat part of the roof outside her window, above the garage. Sliding the window open, she stuck her head out. “What are you doing up here?”

“When I heard the fourth thump on your window, I thought you might want company,” Bruce said, looking past her at the stuffed animals. “I was going to say something clever about bear hunting, but it didn’t include walruses. I’m not prepared for a walrus joke.”

Mayim laughed. “I’d love company,” she said, climbing out the window.

They sat with their legs dangling over the garage and talked like normal for several minutes. Mayim almost forgot she was frustrated until Bruce asked her, “What’s with the attempted walrus murder?”

“A murder is a group of crows,” said Mayim, “and I don’t have any stuffed crows.”

“Well, I know what to get for your next birthday,” Bruce smirked. “But you didn’t answer. Friends are supposed to offer moral support when you’re upset, so I think I’m supposed to bug you until you tell me.”

“This is why we’re best friends,” Mayim smiled. “Also because you live next door.” She sighed, not sure how to explain. “Do you think of me as a girl?”

Bruce looked confused for a second, then briefly horrified, then closed his eyes so she couldn’t read his expression. “Mayim, I’m not really ready to think about girlfriends and all that yet,” he said, slowly.

It was Mayim’s turn to be horrified. “No, that’s not what I meant. I knew I’d explain it wrong.” She flopped backwards so she was laying on the roof, covering her face with her hands.

There was a pause. Bruce flopped over beside her. “Explain again,” he said. “That’s what friends are for.”

Mayim told him the whole story—asking her mom about having boys at the party, wishing for a boy swimsuit, being called “one of the boys.” When she stopped, they both sat up, criss-cross-applesauce.

“I’m not one of the boys,” she said. “I’m a girl. But I still want you as my best friend, and boy games, and I’m irritated that boy games is even a thing. Why can’t they just be called games? Do games have a gender?”

“You sound a little social-justice-warrior,” Bruce laughed. “It’s one of the things that’s great about you.” He poked Mayim’s knee, twice. “So what you meant was, do I think of you as one of the boys? I don’t think so. The guys are great and all, but you’re my best friend. That’s why I got worried when I thought—”

“No need to go into that,” Mayim interrupted. “I don’t want that either, plus talking about it too much makes me feel weird. I like being best friends.”

Bruce grinned. “Good. Your best friend brought a birthday present.”

Mayim blinked. “Didn’t you give a present at the party?”

Bruce shook his head. “There was one from me and Jeb and David, as a group, but this is just from me.” He took a little box out of his pocket. “Sorry about the wrapping job. We didn’t have any wrapping paper, so I used a brown paper bag.”

Mayim took the box, smiling. Brown paper packages tied up with string, her brain sang. There wasn’t a string, but she slid her thumbnail under the Scotch tape and opened the paper, then the box. Inside was a gold chain with a starfish charm, about half an inch tall. Bruce was looking at her nervously, so she grinned. “It’s amazing,” she said. “Also, a boy would never wear it, so it makes me feel much better.”

Bruce smiled back. “It made me think of that time at the beach, when we were looking for shells and you got a starfish stuck on your—”

“NEVER MIND WHERE THE STARFISH WAS STUCK,” Mayim interrupted at the top of her voice. They both laughed, too loudly for a minute until Mayim remembered that her mom would probably not be thrilled to find them sitting on the garage roof, even though they did it all the time. She wrapped the necklace twice around her wrist. “Hope you don’t mind if it’s a bracelet instead of a necklace.”

“You aren’t really the necklace type,” Bruce said, “but the starfish was the best charm, so I picked it anyway.”

Mayim stuck her pinky out, and Bruce wrapped his around it. “Best friends,” she said.

“Best friends,” Bruce agreed.