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He spent most of his time in the treehouse.
His dad had built it for him. He used to brag about it in school because building things by hand wasn’t really a thing that happened anymore.
If he tried hard enough, Gary could see his father’s hands carefully sliding the wood into place, asking him to hand him the hammer or the box of nails he had been giddily holding. If he tried hard enough, Gary thought he could still smell his dad: weird off-brand cologne, space dust and sometimes the sour tang of alcohol underneath.
Gary Goodspeed was 11, and he spent every day waiting for his dad to come back from space. He didn’t want to have adventures without him.
He was lucky to be able to stay in his home, the social worker reminded him constantly. He was so lucky that his father’s best friend not only adopted him, but moved into his house so Gary wouldn’t have to leave.
He was so, very lucky.
He didn’t feel that lucky.
It was before the sunrise. He liked being awake this early because it wasn’t quite night anymore but it wasn’t too bright or too loud yet. It had scared Mr. Jack a few times before he realized this was normal.
He sat and watched the sky turn pinker and pinker, knees drawn to his chest and his caterpillar sitting next to him, able to see the sky but far enough back from the edge that he couldn’t fall.
Half an hour later, Mr. Jack walked out of the back door in a robe, looking cold. He was carrying two mugs. Somehow he had known Gary’s favorite drink was hot cocoa with honey without him telling. It made him angry.
“Hey, kiddo. Did you sleep at all?” Mr. Jack knew he had nightmares, too. Gary thought he knew entirely too much.
“Maybe,” Gary mumbled, his word breaking off into a yawn.
“Can I come up there with you and Mooncake?”
It took Gary three whole seconds (he counted) to give a begrudging “yes.” He watched Mr. Jack struggle to climb up the ladder for a few moments before giving in and reaching down to grab the mugs from him. His was his dad’s old favorite mug. He refused to drink out of anything else. Mr. Jack gave him a kind smile and Gary leaned back with a huff.
Mr. Jack stared down into his cup of gross (coffee). He closed his eyes and sighed.
“I know there’s a lot of things you don’t want to tell me, Jane.” He hated that name. “So how about a trade?”
Gary blinked. “A trade?”
“Yeah, I tell you one secret of mine and you tell me one of yours.” Mr. Jack smiled at him again. It didn’t look very happy, but he was trying hard. Gary could appreciate that.
“...Okay,” he agreed, finally picking up his mug. It was a little cold.
Mr. Jack smiled, closer to genuine this time, and scooted himself a bit closer to him.
“I have superpowers.” He looked a little pained to admit this, but Gary was much more preoccupied by how cool this was.
“You what? You have to show me right now!” He yelled, nearly spilling his cocoa. Mr. Jack took a breath and let go of his coffee mug. Right before it hit the ground, it was stopped, floating and trembling in place. Mr. Jack’s eyes were squeezed shut, but a bit of a green glow leaked out.
Gary impatiently waited for him to bring the cup back up to the treehouse in fits and starts before nearly pouncing on the shorter alien.
“You have tele... tele-whatever! That’s so cool! You’re like a superhero!” He gushed. Mr. Jack laughed and awkwardly patted his head like he thought it was something he was supposed to do.
“I guess so,” he agreed. “Now, whenever you’re ready, it’s your turn.”
“Only if you promise to show me more superpower stuff later!”
Mr. Jack looked a little pained at the suggestion. “Of course, kiddo.”
Now that the attention was back on him, Gary found himself a bit uncomfortable. Maybe he could tell another secret. After all, Mr. Jack didn’t call him by his other name very often. He used nicknames most of the time.
But a deal’s a deal, and after such a cool secret Gary couldn’t find it in himself to change the subject or lie. He would do this the man’s way, like his dad would have!
“Umm, you have to promise not to make fun of me, though.” That didn’t mean he couldn’t stall a bit.
“Only if it’s something... supremely silly!” His joke fell flat, and they sat in silence for a few beats. “Alright, sorry about that. Yeah, no, I won’t.”
Gary twisted his mug of cocoa around in his hands. “Uh, well, I’ve always felt, um, wrong? Like when people call me my name. Jane, I mean. I don’t like it. Or being a girl. And uh, one day at school we learned about, uh, transgender people? And ‘stigma’ and stuff, but my main point is that I don’t wanna be a girl anymore.” The silence didn’t last too long before Gary continued, the mug trembling in his white-knuckled hands.
“And, uh, I like the name Gary a lot better because I never got to meet him but Dad said that was Grandpa’s name and that Grandpa was really cool and I really wanted to tell Dad but I only got the words for it right before he left and I figured it could wait and I didn’t think that he’d-“
Gary had to cut himself off because he started crying, and he hated talking while he was crying. He set the mug down and picked up Mooncake and retreated away from the ledge to the inner part of the treehouse.
After a minute — or a few, he couldn’t really tell — Gary heard Mr. Jack getting up and walking over. He hunched in on himself. He didn’t know what he was so scared of.
“Oh, kid... You know what? Gary fits you much better anyway.” A few awkward beats later, Gary felt a hand on his shoulder, like Mr. Jack had been debating whether or not to touch him.
He didn’t say anything, and tried not to sob.
“Your dad... would be so proud of you, ki- Gary. He was like you too, you know? He was transgender too. I knew him better than I ever knew anyone else, and I can tell you that he loved you more than I’ve ever seen anyone love anything.”
He couldn’t stop himself from sobbing. He turned to face Mr. Jack, trying to keep his hands from shaking so he wouldn’t upset Mooncake. Gary opened his mouth but was interrupted by another cry, so he shifted his caterpillar to one hand and reached forward to hug the alien. The sun had risen by now, lighting the treehouse up with gold.
Mr. Jack wasn’t his dad, but for the first time since he saw the spaceship explode like a dying star, he thought that things might be okay one day.