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tennis . . . nothing like karate. I’m impressed.”
    “No big deal,” Kimiko said, picturing Allie in a cute white tennis outfit.
    “So, did you ever wish you lived in Japan instead of the U.S.?” Allie asked.
    “No, I’m definitely American,” Kimiko said and sat down on the rug. “Though it might’ve been easier to grow up there. Here I got picked on by kids saying stuff like: ‘Your eyes are weird,’ or ‘Where’s your nose?’”
    “I wish I had your nose,” Allie replied. “I’ve never liked mine.”
    “Are you kidding?” Kimiko said, recalling Allie’s ski-jump nose. “Your nose is beautiful, dude.”
    “Thanks!” Allie laughed. Nobody had ever complimented her nose before. “I think your eyes are beautiful.”
    Kimiko turned quiet. Was Allie flirting with her? Yeah, right, she told herself. Keep dreaming!
    “I guess we all get picked on for something,” Allie continued. “I got the tall jokes: ‘How is the weather up there? Har-har-har.’ So annoying.”
    “Dude, I wish I were as tall as you. I got called shrimp.”
    “Well, I wish I were petite like you.”
    “Petite?” That sounded daintier than Kimiko thought of herself. “Not me! I remember one time in kindergarten I got so mad at this boy teasing me that I slugged him in the stomach.”
    “Really?” Allie giggled.
    “Yeah. My mom was like horrified. That’s when my dad sent me to karate to teach me self-control. I think he always wished I’d been born a boy. I did too.”
    “You did?” Allie asked. She’d wondered at times if gay people wished they were the opposite sex. “I asked Lance if he’d ever wanted to be a girl, and he told me, ‘Never! I like being a guy.’”
    “Yeah, who wouldn’t want to be a guy?” Kimiko said and glanced at herself in the mirror: boy’s jeans, oversize T-shirt, baseball cap. “Guys get all the breaks.”
    “Well, I’m glad I’m a girl,” Allie replied. “I never wanted to be a guy. So, do you consider yourself trans?”
    “No, just butch. I never wanted to get a sex change, or felt I was born in the wrong body, or anything like that. But if somebody mistakes me for a guy, that’s cool. I wish people wouldn’t get so hung up on gender. You know?”
    “Well, last year”—Allie giggled—“for Halloween I borrowed one of my dad’s suits and I wore a fake mustache? It was such a hoot! But you could still tell I was a girl.”
    “I would’ve loved to see that.” Kimiko laughed, trying to picture it in her mind.
    “I’ll e-mail you a photo,” Allie said, returning to her computer. “Hey, would you like to go to a manga convention Saturday afternoon?”
    “Dude, I’d love to!” Kimiko pumped her fist in the air, excited.
    “Super,” Allie said. “I’ll pick you up so we can go together.”
    They continued to talk for another half hour while Kimiko stared at the JPEG Allie sent of herself in guy drag. Although the picture was cute, Kimiko definitely liked her better as a girl.
    After hanging up, Kimiko immediately phoned Sergio and told him about the call.
    “Kimiko’s got a date,” he teased in singsong. “Kimiko’s got a date!”
    “You’re being a dork,” Kimiko replied. “We’re just going as friends. It’s not a date”—although she wished it were.
    On Friday evening, she went over to Sergio’s for dinner. Afterward, they hung out in his room, listening to music while he debated what to wear for his date with Lance the following night.
    “Do you think he’s a virgin?” Sergio asked as he picked through shirts. “He kind of gives off that vibe like: ‘I want you to seduce me.’ Did you notice?”
    Kimiko gave him a look as though to say: Are you insane?
    “Since it’s your first date,” she suggested, “maybe you guys should go slow—stick to just making out and get to know each other first.”
    Sergio gave her a grumpy pout and put on a red shirt with buttons down the front. “How about this one? Good for easy access! He he he