Chapter 3

"Hurry up, Rusty!" Robyn yelled. I grabbed my jacket and pulled it on as I ran down the stairs. I passed Kendall, who was holding a pair of keys as she was yelling at her cronies to hurry up. Were those car keys? Hers? Who cares? Not me.

I caught up with Robyn and Aurora in front of the school. I was wearing a borrowed pair of jeans from Robyn, since Aurora had a thinner waist than me. My jacket was still the school's, and so was my blouse, but I was wearing jeans! Oh, and flat Converse!

"Okay, we'll be out for the whole day," Robyn told me after we got past the gate. "So in addition to seeing the sea lions and the rest of Pier 39, we're catching a bus and meeting Nigel."

"Who?" I said. "Is he your boyfriend?"

Robyn laughed. "Hell no. He's the other friend I told you about. You'll see when you meet him why it's funny his last name is Irons."

We went down to the pier and walked around, saw the sea lions, ate Polish hotdogs, and went into the small shops, including Robyn's favorite, Lefty's, a shop dedicated to left-handed people. Robyn's cell phone rang as we were eating ice cream, and she answered it. After she had a quick conversation, mostly in Spanish or some other language, she hung up and said, "Time to go see Nigel. He's at the SFBS."

"San Francisco Bull Sh…?" I said quietly. Nigel was probably really tough and hangs out at a rodeo place or something. No, it might be for motorcycles.

We went on a bus and rode up to the hills, where there were more houses and schools and less shops. "Here's the stop," Robyn said as she stepped off. We followed her into a building. On the door in cursive letters it read: San Francisco Ballet School.

"What're we doing here? Or is Nigel a nickname like Rusty?" I said. That was about the only conclusion I reached.

"No, no, this is the sorta-guy friend," Robyn said. "Nigel!"

I only saw teenage girls our age twirling around on their tip toes. There was no boy anywhere. "Nigel! NIGEL! Get you're a—" the lady at the desk at the entrance looked at us over her glasses. Robyn cleared her throat and muttered something in Spanish.

"I'm coming!" a guy's voice said. It was kind of high, but hey, not every guy is a football jock. But I still didn't see a guy, just a bunch of pink tutus. When one came near us, I realized how Nigel was a sorta-guy.

He was tall, gangly, thin, pale, had floppy-ish black hair, dark green eyes, and an impish grin on his face. On his head was a wreath of daisies and around his waist was a pink tutu. He even had a pink ribbon tied in his hair, making a small fountain on top of his head.

"Hello," he said, holding his hand out. "I'm Nigel."

I shook his hand and told him my name, and then grabbed Robyn and dragged her out of hearing distance. "Robyn! Why didn't you tell me?"

Robyn's face changed. "Why, you have something against him?" She was mad. But more than that, she was scary. She looked ready to punch my ass to a pulp if I said yes.

"No, it's not that, it's just….he's gay!" I said.

"Really? Hey Nigel, she just—" I stopped her and said, "No, I mean, what if Kendall or some Royalty found out? The school doesn't think the best about gays, right? Don't they think that homosexuality is a sin? Robyn, if they see us with him, we could get kicked out of school."

Robyn nodded thoughtfully. I prayed that she wouldn't kick me in the stomach. She took a deep breath, looked at me with a grim expression, (oh sh—), but then she smiled and shrugged. She made a sound like "tcha" and said, "Forget about the school. All their religious sins can go to Hell, 'cause I'm not leaving my buddy. Now, if you are worried about getting seen, then there's the door and the school is at the top of the next hill. Are you gonna stay or go?"

"Stay," I said.

And I did. And I learned that here in California, dear California, there were a lot of gay people. A lot lived in San Francisco in the Castro District, and Robyn told me that they were going on about Prop. 8 and getting their own rights.

"But you know how some people are," she said. "They act like it's a contagious disease to be gay. Or some other people, like that damn Taylor Swift, "If you come back here, I'll say that you're gay. And by the way; I hate that stupid old pick-up truck...whine..."Robyn said in a high whiny voice.

"I hate that song," Nigel said.

"Me too. She's trying to copy Carrie Underwood and making a horrible disgrace to country music. I mean—," Aurora said.

"Whoa, Aurora, cool down," I said. "Nigel, isn't that tutu a rental?"

He blushed and looked the lady at the desk. She was standing up, leaning over and holding her hand out. He grinned sheepishly and took it off, handing it to her.

"Hurry up, hurry up!" Aurora squealed, running at full speed. I slid on the sidewalk, stumbling in the wet. Robyn caught me before I landed flat on my face—ow—and we ran, her holding one of my hands, Aurora holding my other, all of us linked together so we wouldn't fall.

"Does it always start spontaneously raining?" I said as I running up the hill. Well, more like being dragged by Robyn while Aurora slipped.

"Uh...no, I don't think so. Usually it's just foggy and cold," Robyn said. She helped Aurora climb up and then she made a bee-line for the bus stop. I shivered and shook my wet hair. Robyn took off her jacket, revealing a black blouse.

"Can you wear that at school?" I said, pulling my hair out of its bun.

Robyn shook her head. "No. It's fitted and kind of tight, so even though Kendall and Olivia and Kayla get away with pulling their blouses tight in the back, you know, like that," Robyn said, grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulling it together in the back and twisting it to make it stay, "the dear teachers don't notice that. Oh no, they'll only see that Hispanic girl from the small town wearing her black blouse."

I started. "What? The school's not...not, uh, racist, is it?" God, they've got everything in California!

"No," Robyn said. Then she paused and said, "At least I don't think so. No, what I meant was they ignore the things that the rich girls do because they always pay the money for the school on time. My family...well, we're not rich."

"Oh." I said. I peeked at Robyn in the corner of my eye. She was standing tall, strong, her full 5 feet 2 inches with pride. Well, short to you, tall to me. There was an awkward silence as we waited for the bus.

It was broken by Aurora's phone. We all jumped and Aurora dug around in her purse for it. She pulled it out and looked at the number. She glanced at us, then at the phone. Then she shoved it back in her bag after pressing the off button.

After a moment, I asked, "Who was that?"

She looked out at the hill. "It was Kendall."

"What?" Robyn and I said at the same time. "Who gave her your number?" Robyn demanded.

"I did."

There was a REALLY intelligent "Huh?" from me.

"It was last year," Aurora confessed, "when she was still nice...-ish to me. She and I were doing a project together for homework and I never went on my email so we exchanged phone numbers. She never called me, but now I guess she wants something from me.

"Can I see your phone?" Robyn said, holding her hand out.

"Don't break it!" Aurora said, clutching it in her hand away from Robyn.

"I'm not going to break it," Robyn sighed. "I promise, no breaking or accidental smashing or squishing." Aurora cautiously handed it over to her. "Thank you." Robyn pressed a few buttons, and then handed it back.

"What'd you do?" I asked, feeling a little out of the loop.

"I deleted Kendall's number. If she calls you again, then it won't have caller ID, and you have the right to demand who the hell it is and to tell her to shove whatever she needs u—"

"The bus is here!" Aurora said. Robyn made a loud sigh and we got on.