To our left, a posse of Joy Scouts takes guitar lessons from a retired monk. (We used to have a troop of Boy Scouts, but when the Boy Scouts decided gays had no place in their ranks, our Scouts decided the organization had no place in our town; they changed their name and continued on.)

My mother instinctively looks at Noah's teeth as she says, "It's a pleasure to meet you." I can't really blame her: she's a dentist, and she can't help doing it.

Kyle is the only straight boy I've ever kissed. (He didn't realize he was straight at the time.)

This was in second grade.
We were under my bed at the time. We were under my bed because Joni had come over to play, and under my bed was easily the coolest place in the whole house. We had brought flashlights and were telling ghost stories...

Joni trailed off. At first, I figured I had her stumped. Then she leaned over, her eyelids closing. She smelled like bubblegum and bicycle grease. Before I knew it, her lips were coming near mine. I was so freaked out, I stood up. Since we were still under my bed, I crashed into the bottom of my mattress.
Her eyes opened quickly after that.
"What'd you do that for?" we both yelled at the same time.
"Don't you like me?" Joni asked, clearly hurt.
"Yeah," I said. "But, you know, I'm gay."
"Oh. Cool. Sorry."
"No problem."
There was a pause, and then Joni continued.
"But the vulture pulls your left arm out of your hand and begins to hit you with it. . . ."
At that moment I knew Joni and I were going to be friends for a good long time.