Many thanks for all your kind messages. My apologies — I just can't get a whole chapter out at the moment. In the meantime, here is a single scene. Thanks especially to Guest reviewers — I can't thank you in person, but I have appreciated all your generous reviews. I hope you are all well and safe.

That's Not How it Works Anymore

Carl sat as still as they could, eyes closed, taking shallow breaths of powder-scented air. It was very difficult, especially since Caela had Hozier playing in the background. She had already chided Carl for moving their lips when they could have sworn they were still as a stone. Carl flexed their fingers in their lap, willing their eyelids immobile as Caela applied primer, liner, and shadow, narrating as she went.

"This tangerine is going to do amazing things for your eyes. It's got a little bit of shimmer to it."

"Don't you think . . ." Carl began, but Caela shushed them.

They tried again, moving their lips as little as possible. "Isn't it a bit . . . I don't know . . . cutesy?"

Caela was unbothered. "There's nothing wrong with cutesy. Who cares, as long as you like it?"

"I do like it," Carl assured her. "It's just . . . a kitten?"

Caela snapped her palette shut. "Look, you're the one who wanted to go as an animal. Lisa Frank's leopards are iconic '80s cuteness! Besides, there's no way I was going to let you go as a rat."

"Rats are cute!"

"Human-size rats are not cute."

"You just said it doesn't matter what other people think!"

"I said it's alright to be cutesy if you want to be. You can be a rat if you like, but you're on your own, makeup-wise."

"Can I open my eyes now?"

"Yes."

Carl's eyes fluttered open to find Caela's nose mere inches from theirs. She had already done her own makeup, featuring a bright rainbow splashed across half her face and several glittery stars. She had even popped in emerald contacts that made her normally dark eyes seem to glow. With clip-in extensions in every imaginable color and a headband sporting a single horn, she was very definitely a unicorn. A cute one.

"Hmmmm," Caela frowned, reaching for an eyelash curler. "Hold still again."

When Caela finally allowed Carl to stand in front of the mirror, they stared. There was no denying the cuteness. Another afternoon of thrifting had yielded many treasures, including the purple leopard-print leggings that were a bit too snug for Caela, but fitted Carl like . . . well, like nothing they'd ever worn in public before. On top, Carl wore an electric blue t-shirt cropped short and off the shoulder, with brightly striped terrycloth wristbands and a pair of fuzzy turquoise cat ears.

The outfit was fabulous, but it was their face that made Carl gasp. Caela had painted leopard spots over a background of chaotic color, and outlined their lips in sparkling purple. But their eyes . . .

"How . . . how did you . . . my eyes?"

Caela beamed. "Neat trick, huh? I just blotted out the lower lashes and lined nice and dark below your natural lash line. That's how anime cosplayers make their eyes look huge."

"It's amazing," Carl said. "How did you . . . they're so blue . . ."

They reached up to touch their face, but Caela swatted their hand away before they could smudge her efforts. "That's all you, sweetie. I just dressed them up."

Thank you seemed inadequate and kisses too likely to muss, so Carl put an arm around Caela's pink-leotard waist and squeezed. "It's perfect. Really, thank you."

"Not quite. Sit again — you need a bit more shimmer."

Carl obeyed, sitting still as Caela dusted and adjusted. The desk in front of them was crowded with Caela's hoard of cosmetics, which made Carl's clandestine stash look like pennies in comparison. The second bed was cluttered with sample boxes, hair-related-appliances, and the headphones Caela used when editing her YouTube tutorials. Both desk and bed would have belonged to Caela's roommate, if said roommate had not stormed down to the Housing Office on the first morning of term and demanded to be reassigned. Not wanting a fuss, the administration had declined to provide any replacement. Caela had observed over-cheerfully on several occasions that this made her the only freshman girl on campus with both a single room and a vanity, with the added bonus that she didn't have to live with a bigot.

The brush tickled over Carl's throat and they swallowed hard. "Caela? Can I ask you something?"

"Only if you want to hear the answer."

Carl was not entirely sure they did. They'd watched every video, read every thread, even delved into the caverns of tumblr. Everyone else seemed so confident. Like Caela. She knew who she was and so did anyone who came within shouting distance. Well, at least they could trust her to tell the truth, even if it hurt.

"Ummm . . ." Carl gripped the seat of the chair to steady themself. "I don't mean to pry, and you don't have to answer, but . . . uh . . . when did you know? That you were a girl?"

Caela shrugged easily, sweeping the brush over Carl's collarbone. "Always. I mean, I had to learn how to talk before I could tell my mum about it, but I never thought I was a boy. I wore a dress to my third birthday party."

"Oh. And that was it?"

"As far as I was concerned, yes. My mum was a brick. My dad . . . well, he tried to convince me that I was mistaken, but Mum showed him the door."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Caela fussed with Carl's hair, adjusting their cat ears. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious."

They lapsed into silence, unable to formulate a follow-up. Caela went on prodding until Carl's hair had been arranged and rearranged to flagrant excess, given that it would just get mussed at the party anyway.

"Some trans people . . ." Caela said slowly, "are like me. They know who they are as kids and have supportive parents — or I guess one supportive parent in my case — and that's that. Some other trans people know early, but they don't say anything right away because it isn't safe enough for them to come out yet."

"That makes sense." Carl had expected as much. Of course everybody knew from the time they were kids, whether they could act on it or not. Really, it was silly to have hoped for anything different.

"Alsooooo," Caela continued, drawing out the word, "there are some trans people who don't work things out till they're a bit older."

Carl was stiller than they ever could have been by choice. "Really?"

"Sure. My endo is a trans guy who didn't realize he was trans until he was in his 40s."

"Oh."

"He says it's never too late."

"Oh."

Caela went on tiptoe. "Carl? Did you ever think that maybe you're a girl?"

"No . . ." Carl breathed, "I mean . . . I never did until I came here. And even now, I'm pretty sure I'm not. But . . ."

Caela rested a soft hand on Carl's shoulder. "But what, sweetie?"

"But I'm pretty sure I'm not a boy either."

It had been true before they said it, tucked up safe inside. Now it peeked out and found only Caela's triumphant smile.

"So, does that mean you're non-binary?"

"Yes. I think so. I mean yes. I'm . . . non-binary."

There. They had said it aloud.

Caela squealed and threw her arms around Carl, endangering the work of hours. "I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!"

She held on tight, wriggling with glee until they were both laughing. Carl hadn't expected euphoria. They weren't quite sure what they had expected — having to justify themselves? pass some sort of test? — but now they had said it aloud and it felt like a spell that re-shaded the whole world in Lisa Frank colors.

"You know, I always knew you were an egg." Caela said with a wicked twinkle behind the emerald contacts. "Right from the first."

"You did not!"

"Did so!"

"How could you possibly know before I did?"

Caela grinned under her rainbow. "I'm exceptionally perceptive." With a mighty shove, she cleared a spot on her not-roommate's bed and flopped down on her leotard-clad stomach, her yellow tights and teal leg-warmers waggling with excitement. "Tell me everything."

It all came spilling out as if in time-lapse: how the new clothes felt like wearing the right skin; how Carl had never known how much they wanted a pink birthday cake until the candles were lit; how relieved they felt to unite a whole constellation of nebulous discomforts under a single name.

"I don't think I've thought of myself as he in months," they said. "Not since that first night at Pride House. And now, when other people call me he or him, it feels . . . not wrong, exactly, but just . . . not right. Like when someone calls me Thomas. It's just not me."

Caela nodded very seriously for her, which was somewhere on the giddy side of neutral. "So do you have new pronouns?"

"Well . . . I don't know . . . maybe . . ."

Caela hopped up from the bed and put her hands on Carl's shoulders, gently but firmly. "You don't have to hedge or apologize. Just tell me."

"Well . . . I think . . . I think I'd like to try they/them. Just as a trial! I'm not . . . I mean, I am not ready to tell the whole world or anything. But maybe . . . do you think you could try calling me they? Just when we're alone together?"

Caela burst out laughing. "No!"

Carl was brought up short. But . . . ? Caela wouldn't . . . ? What . . . ?

They must have looked dreadful because Caela schooled her features into kindness and slipped her hand into theirs. "Sweetie. That is not how pronouns work. Have I ever called you he or him when I'm talking to you? Ever? When it's just the two of us, I'm me and you're you and the other way around. The third person is only for when you're talking about a third person."

"Oh." Carl had not considered that. They definitely weren't ready for a third person.

Caela was still fizzing, her emerald eyes flashing as she asked, "What about . . . shopping?"

"Shopping?"

"Yeah! Shopping! If we go to a shop or a restaurant where nobody knows us, I could call you they when I'm talking to the server. Or . . . Ooo! Ooo! What if I call you they when I'm talking to my mum? She doesn't know anyone you know except me."

That sounded alright. It would be nice to know that someone out in the world was using their pronouns correctly, even if Carl never heard them.

"I think that would be good . . ." Carl said, though Caela was only paying partial attention. She already had her phone out.

Hi Mum, she texted, narrating aloud as she typed. I'm going to an '80s-themed Halloween party tonight with my friend Carl. I'm a Lisa Frank unicorn and they're a leopard.

She scooted over on the bed and gestured for Carl to join her for a selfie.

"Will you send that to me?" Carl asked as the message went flying off to New Brunswick.

"Done and done."

Carl's phone buzzed. It took only a few clicks to set the picture as their new lock screen.

"Too cutesy?" they asked, turning the phone toward Caela.

"Extremely. Do you like it?"

The smile unfurled across Carl's gleaming face until it matched Caela's. "Yeah. I really do."

"Good. You are perfect and glorious and extremely hot and there won't be a single blank on your dance card."

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it works anymore."

"True! No need to plan. Just seize the opportunity when it comes along!"

Seize the opportunity. Just like that! Carl checked the photo again and found the blue-eyed person looking back with an expression of delighted anticipation on their painted face. They were ready.