Nya was still calming herself from her father’s letter, but she liked the boy, and she wasn’t the only one in turmoil.

“That would be fun,” she said. “It will be good to have someone I know with me, and I like spending time with you.”

“Really?” Lukas blushed a bit as he opened the door for her to pass through. “Even though I steal your makeup and yell at my brother?”

They hopped into the backseat of the car and the driver pulled off.

“Well, I gave you that makeup, and I think maybe that’s related to why you’ve been yelling at your brother.”

Lukas’s expression was completely calm, except for his eyes—he wasn’t as good at this as Johan. Nya had remembered something one of her fellow students at her grad school program had told her and decided to put it to use. She didn’t want to meddle, but she didn’t want Lukas to think she’d forgotten what he’d told her by accepting the lip gloss.

“By the way, not to be awkward, but my pronouns are she/her. In case you were wondering.” She pulled her phone out from her pocket to check the time, giving Lukas space to answer but not pressure.

“Interesting,” Lukas said. “Actually. Now that you’ve awkwardly mentioned it. I got into a fight at school. There was this smug American kid, Jaden, and he kept going on and on in our gender studies class about how pronouns other than she and he were fake news, or something. And I disagreed. And after class he kept getting on my case about why I even cared so much, so I punched him.”

“Well, violence is not in good taste, but sometimes punch is what’s on the menu.”

Lukas burst out laughing at her terrible joke, and Nya could feel the relief in his laughter. “It was really cool because after I punched him, my teacher asked if I’d been so upset because I wanted to go by they. And I said yes.”

Lukas glanced at her.

“Okay. So they/them?”

Lukas’s eyes were wide and they gave a hard nod.

Nya smiled. “Done. Do you want me to share that with others or . . . ?”

“No! No, it’s fine if at home I go by he.”

Nya took a deep breath, remembering when Johan had called her Naya and how it had upset her. This was very different, and she was sure more hurtful than Lukas was letting on. “It’s fine if you say it’s fine, but you might feel better being called what you want to be called.”

They waved their hand. “I’ll tell my father and Johan soon. When the time is right.”

Then the car pulled up to the artisan village and Lukas jumped out to run around the car to open Nya’s door. “Seriously. Please don’t tell Johan.”

Stresslines had formed around their eyes and they gazed at her intensely, as if wondering whether she could be trusted.

“I won’t,” she said. “But I think that when you do, you might be surprised at how he responds. He’s not close-minded.”

“You saw what happened the other day,” Lukas said. “He was so mad. He’s never been mad at me before.”

“Have you ever yelled at him before?” she asked gently.

“No.” Lukas’s mouth was pulled down in a frown and she could see the slightest tremble of their lips. They were still a child, really, and they were facing pressures she could never imagine.

Nya stepped out of the car and placed a hand on their shoulder. Lukas sighed at her touch. “I’m sorry. I know what it’s like not wanting to disappoint your family. But . . . if you tell Johan outright and he still gets mad? He’s not the man I think he is. And that will be his problem, not yours. Now let’s go look at clay pots.”

Lukas seemed relieved at the change in subject, and Nya made sure to keep them entertained during the visit. When they’d both made their rounds and been photographed by Hans, Phillippe, and Krebs, Nya even managed to get Lukas to take a selfie.

“Can you AirDrop it to me?” they asked when they were safely back in the car, and Nya handed the phone over without even pretending to know how to use the AirDrop function.

She wondered what Johan was doing. She hadn’t texted him all day, and he’d only told her that his day would be busy. It didn’t matter, she supposed, but she didn’t look forward to spending another night alone.

“I hope my brother is as good as you think he is,” Lukas said as they handed back the phone.

“Do you really think he’s not?” Nya asked.

“I think . . . sometimes he forgets that he’s not Jo-Jo. And that not everyone wants to be a Jo-Jo. I feel like he’s stopped being Johan, even with me,” Lukas said quietly. “Maybe it’s different with you. I hope so.”

Nya wasn’t sure what she hoped anymore. So instead of hoping, she pulled up Portia’s Instagram account and showed Lukas the new eyeshadow Portia had been sent to try out, and promised she’d get Portia to send them a sample packet at school.

Chapter 20

Phokojoe the trickster god was observant, in the way of foxes. He had great big ears to hear all, and eyes that saw in darkness or in light. He would watch the people of the village near his lair from afar. He watched as the village grew, and more humans arrived. He watched them for many moons, creeping closer every night. They intrigued him; he had been alone for so very long. One evening, he saw a man walking on the road that led through the village, and stepped out in front of the human, hoping to become friends with one of the strange creatures he’d grown so fond of. The man shouted and waved his walking stick, telling Phokojoe to leave him. This happened again and again, every time he encountered one of the humans, until one day, Phokojoe asked, “What is it that you desire most in the world?” The human stopped yelling. He answered, “A fine hat.” Phokojoe turned himself into a hat, and the man forgot his fear as he picked up the hat from the road. Phokojoe understood then that the only way to end his loneliness would be to change himself without cease.