Nikki was just setting up to watch her next lecture—inside, because the Starbucks patio was too damn hot and sticky today—when she saw the tall girl again, waiting by the corner counter for her order. She wore a long, flowy skirt and a patterned open vest over a white blouse, plus a loosely-worn light scarf—a boho look that shouldn’t have worked with her slightly stocky build and cropped hair, but somehow she moved with the grace needed to pull it off. Her mask had gray cartoon kitties.

When the barista called out, “Stella,” the boho girl picked up the drink.

Nikki frowned. She could have sworn the name had been something else, two days ago. Belle? Becky? B-something, she was pretty sure.

To have an excuse for not bending over her laptop, Nikki redid her (legit messy) ponytail. As “Stella” walked past Nikki’s table on her way out, she noticed Nikki and did the little head-bob of embarrassment some girls do when being checked out. Her eyes crinkled, though, making Nikki wonder if she was smiling beneath her mask. Nikki found herself smiling back—not that Stella could see that under her own mask.

Watching Stella exit made Nikki notice that the shop was filling up—with more people unmasked (even after finishing their drink) than she was comfortable with. That the patio and home were even more uncomfortable, in different ways, didn’t make her feel better. She grimaced.

Then she put everything aside, her ear-buds in, and the lecture on.

Two days later, after a surprise morning thunderstorm drove Nikki inside, the boho girl took a drink for Marge. Nikki was sitting in the far corner, and the girl left without noticing her.

The next day, a Saturday, Nikki was on the patio, having arrived early enough it wasn’t wretched yet. She saw the boho girl only briefly, from behind, as she crossed the parking lot to her car—so couldn’t confirm what name she used today. The girl’s inch-heeled boots gave her a gait that swished her long skirt in interesting ways.

The day after was a typical busy Sunday—not a single patio table was free. This time, the girl’s name was Patricia. Even though Nikki was across the room from the exit, the girl of many names gave her a little wave as she left.

Nikki barely managed to wave back just before the girl walked out the door. She shook herself, trying to dismiss the little thrill that recognition gave her. She was too damn busy trying to finish high school, despite the worst efforts of a school district broken by the pandemic, for a girlfriend—or a boyfriend for that matter. And if she couldn’t debug her frickin’ spreadsheet before midnight, she wouldn’t get enough on this project to clinch a passing grade.

Nikki took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Another breath. Let it out. Then with one last thought of how good the mystery girl looked in earth tones, she bent over her laptop.

The next two days, Nikki didn’t see the boho girl.

The third day, on a morning left blessedly cool by last night’s banger of a thunderstorm, the girl sat down at the table next to Nikki’s. Which wasn’t all that close—the patio furniture was spaced 6 feet for social distancing. She took the chair opposite Nikki’s, so they faced each other on the diagonal.

The name on the venti drink was, of all things, Nicky—and the scone on her plate looked oddly inviting, even though Nikki knew from experience that it would taste like frosted cardboard. Her stomach grumbled anyway—and Nikki realized it was getting on lunchtime.

Nicky unhooked her puppy-patterned mask and looked at Nikki. Her face was as attractive as Nikki had imagined, even with her strong nose and firm chin. She wore the understated makeup needed for the boho look. And her smile, it made Nikki’s chest tingle.

Nikki glanced around—no nearby staff—and reached into her pack. She put her finger over her mask in a shushing gesture, and pulled out a ziplocked sandwich—contraband outside food.

Nicky giggled and nodded.

Nikki unhooked her mask and smiled back. She freed her sandwich, and at the same time, both girls took a first bite of their food. It felt good. Tasted good, too—she was hungry enough, PBJ with bean sprouts was just fine.

Good enough, Nikki gave into her curiosity. She nodded at Nicky’s drink and asked, “If you don’t mind my asking, what’s with all the different names?”

Nicky’s smile vanished, and Nikki cussed herself, silently. Then the smile returned, though with clear effort. In a slightly breathy voice, she said, “I’m looking for a new name, and hoping when they call one out, it’ll sound like mine.”

Huh. Why would—?

Nicky drew a breath, then evidently came to a decision. “I’m transitioning, and my old name is very clearly just for boys.”

Oh, thought Nikki. Then, Oh. The loose light scarves were probably to disguise her throat. Looked at with new knowledge, Nicky’s face could indeed belong to a boy. For a moment, Nikki felt like she was seeing two faces overlaid, one a girl’s and one a boy’s. Then with a snap, they came together, leaving just Nicky’s. Hers.

“That’s pretty clever,” Nikki said. “Thank you for explaining.”

Nikki could all but taste Nicky’s relief. “Thank you for asking the way you did.” Left unsaid: and for taking it in stride.

Nikki took another bite of her sandwich, and Nicky her last bite of scone.

After Nikki swallowed, she asked, “So is Nicky the one?”

Nicky laughed. “No—didn’t sound right either.”

“Oh good.”

Not-Nicky cocked her head.

Nikki tried not to smirk. “That’s my name—spelled double-K-I—and that would just be too confusing.”

Not-Nicky grinned. “No, that wouldn’t be good.”

“So what should I call you?”

A sigh. “For now, I’m using Charlene. My wallet-name is Charles, and my family usually calls—used to call me Chuck.”

“Yeah no,” Nikki said. “You definitely need a new name for the real you.”

Charlene-for-now nodded vigorously, pleased with the validation. Then with a nod at Nikki’s laptop, “So what are you always so busy with?”

Nikki managed to keep her sigh from becoming an ugh. “Scrambling to take enough distance-learning classes to get my diploma on time.”

It was a virtual program through a community college on the other end of the state geared towards returning students, but when it became clear that the shitstorm that was her high school’s remote “learning” was getting worse instead of better and her parents were too overwhelmed to do anything, Nikki had found this on her own. Each class was a semester compressed into three weeks, with a couple hours of pre-recorded lectures plus 40 minutes of instructor Q&A each day, but it would secure her graduation and her escape to college in the fall. And was easy to fit around her own school’s shitty excuses for remote classes.

Charlene-for-now looked puzzled for a moment, then showed growing concern. “Are you in Springfield?”

Nikki’s Uuuggghhh! conveyed everything.

“Is it as bad as they say?”

“Worse. There’s not even enough subs to teach half my classes, the school board lies through their teeth about what’s going on, and while no one will confirm it officially, everyone admits out the side of their mouths that grades won’t be given for most classes this semester—which means hardly anyone’s gonna graduate next month.”

“OMG! That’s a total suckbomb!”

Nikki could only nod. Every time she tried to explain this, she ran out of words—she couldn’t even.

“I am so sorry. I’m at Lakeside, and it’s not so bad now. We started hybrid learning last month—in-person every other day. I come here on my remote-day lunchtime.”

Nikki nodded—she’d heard from her cousin how Lakeside School District was handling the pandemic WAY better than Springfield.

Charlene shook her head again. “So why are you doing it here?”

“Between my parents’ work and my brothers’ gaming, there’s not enough bandwidth to stream lectures.” Nor enough privacy to concentrate. Nikki shrugged. “With the libraries closed, it’s the best I can do.”

“Vaccinated?”

“Of course! Wasn’t allowed out of the house till I was.”

Charlene nodded. “Me too. Couldn’t return in person, even part-time, without it.”

Nikki’s phone chirped. She glanced at the message and grimaced. “I’m summoned home—my mom has a meeting she needs privacy for, and she doesn’t trust my little brothers unsupervised.” With good reason. This would happen right as she was interacting with an actual real-live person, one she was starting to like. Did like.

Charlene took out her phone. “What’s your number?”

Nikki told her, and by the time she finished packing, her phone dinged again with the contact info for C Partlow. She saved it, sent her own contact back, then with a brief bye headed to her car.

Two days later, Nikki got a text from Charlene4now: No SB today?

She grimaced in her bedroom. Nope - no lectures, just final exam. What name R U trying?

A sad-face emoji, and then, Selma.

Nikki tried to be open-minded, but honestly she didn’t think that name fit. Good luck.

U 2

Through the closed bedroom door, Nikki heard the sound of gunfire and car-crashes, and her stepfather complaining. Some things, noise-cancelling headphones just didn’t help with. She took a moment to breathe in, then focused on the next multiple-choice question about pivot tables.

The next day was Saturday—an actual free weekend day. Nikki’s next distance-learning course, the last she needed to graduate, wouldn’t start till Monday. She had no reason, no good excuse, to go to Starbucks.

She texted Charlene4now, What’s today’s name?

Elisa - I’ll be by in half hour

C U then

Nikki told Mom she’d be back in two hours, without explanation. This actually worked.

When she arrived, Charlene was waiting by the corner counter for her order. Her boho outfit shaded blues-and-greens today. It looked almost as good on her as earth tones. Charlene made a shy-ish wave, which Nikki returned from the spaced-out order line. Though why was she feeling suddenly shy about this?

When the other girl picked up Elisa’s drink, she looked at Nikki and shook her head. Another miss.

Walking outside together, Nikki could finally confirm that Charlene-still-for-now was three or so inches taller than her. There was only one available patio table in the shade. Without discussion, they both sat at it. And took off their masks—Charlene’s had cute bunnies doing cute bunny things.

“This isn’t really distanced,” Charlene said, “but we’re both vaccinated.”

Nikki didn’t want to worry about sitting too close. After a moment, though, she sighed. “I should warn you, though, my idiot brothers keep meeting up with friends and don’t always mask. We’ve had to stop visiting Grandma, because we can’t trust them not to bring the virus home.”

Charlene made a yuck-face. “Are they vaxxed?”

“Greg is, but Will’s 11,” Nikki admitted. And Grandma was too immunocompromised to vaccinate.

“Oh.” Charlene chewed her lower lip, and Nikki resisted the urge to smooth it out with her thumb—an impulse that shocked her. Was she so starved for human contact? —or would she be attracted to this girl anyway? Charlene shook her head. “Across the table is probably okay, but maybe? not? any closer?”

A silent whimper of disappointment slunk through Nikki’s belly. “That’s probably wise.”

Right then, she hated wisdom.

So instead of holding hands or getting any closer, the two girls talked—school, family, lockdown life, college plans, goddam fucking asshole anti-masking anti-vaxxers. Transitioning.

“It’s funny,” Charlene said, “but if not for the pandemic, I might not have started yet.”

“Mm?”

“My friends, they—they haven’t been very supportive. I think I’ve lost Sam completely and Pat’s, well, acting squirrely. If I’d been still hanging out with them in school, like Before, I don’t know I’d’ve had the courage to come out.”

“Ouch.” Nikki had to clasp her hands to prevent herself from taking Charlene’s.

“My parents have been great. Living with them, seeing only them for a year, I was able to start.” She made a wistful smile. “I think Dad suspected for a while, actually. Mom still misses her little boy, I can tell, but she’s thrown herself into building my wardrobe.”

“She’s done a fabulous job.” Not Nikki’s thing, but boho definitely worked for Charlene. Nikki was, as usual, in basic black—black short-sleeve worn unbuttoned over a black tank-top, plus black jeans. Even her scrunchie was black.

Charlene flushed a little. “Thanks.” Her voice was even more breathy than usual.

Nikki’s phone dinged—a text from Mom. She blinked to see they’d been talking for over three hours. Which would explain why it felt so hot and sticky. The text was a list of groceries to pick up on the way home—left unstated: come home now.

“Gotta go?” Charlene asked.

Nikki gave her a disappointed look—then mugged it up with puppy-dog eyes till Charlene smiled. “It’s lunchtime anyway.”

Charlene checked the time, then bit out, “Sh—yikes! I’m late, too.”

They tossed their long-empty cups, then stood, a little apart—that awkward moment when, Before, two girl friends (or girlfriends) would have hugged. Nikki didn’t know whether to offer an elbow or an air-hug or what.

Charlene smiled wryly, and held out her fist. Nikki chuckled and lightly bumped it. Their first touch.

Nikki’s knuckles tingled till she was halfway home.

Nikki managed to guess enough right with the vague shopping list (who knew there were so many kinds of noodles?) to not get in too much trouble for being so much later than promised—less enough trouble than her brothers were in for some stupid stunt, she got permission Sunday to “meet a friend outside” again, after she double-promised to watch the time this time.