In gym class the next morning, a rough-and-tumble game of two-hand touch is tied at 21-21. Coach Jo has given up on the soccer unit and let the guys play american football instead. It's shirts vs. skins and Kris Wu vs. Park Chanyeol. They look like they're having fun-not that I want to join them.

          The skins part of shirts vs. skins can be a little distracting when you're trying to catch a ball and run at the same time-oh, and not run into Choi Minho, a six foot-three wall of muscle. So I've opted out of the game in favor of running a mile.

          Today I walk an extra lap to cool down and, on my way back inside, I find Kyungsoo staring up at the sky. His back is to me, the game ball tucked under one arm. He looks like a modern day Greek god in a faded t-shirt.

          I stand beside him and follow his gaze. A plane passes overhead, its contrail neatly dividing the brilliant blue sky in two.

          "I can't wait to get outta here," he says. "Live my own life."

          "So with you, man," I agree. 

          "Jongin," he calls out, and when I turn, he tosses me the ball.

          I catch it, backpedal, and launch it to him in a graceful arc.

          He snatches it from the air and run toward me, zig-zagging as if to dare me to tackle him.

          I bend at the waist and spread my arms out to my sides.

          Kyungsoo fakes left and zigzags right.

          I catch him by the waist and his momentum spins us around. In a dizzying flash, he grabs my arm and holds it tight against his ribs. I feel them shake as he laughs. One more revolution and we stumble to the ground.

          "Dork," I tell him, and flop onto my back. "I was tackling you."

          Spread out like he's making a snow angel in the grass, he lifts the ball from under his arm. "Nah, total touch-down."

          "Touchdown? Not even close," I protest, and reach for the ball.

          But Kyungsoo points up at the split-in-two sky. I lie back to look.

  We watch the contrail as it fades away. I wonder about college next year ad the million things that will change in our lives, like living away from home, on our own without parents and siblings. I wonder if college will feel like home, if I'll make new friends, if coming out will finally let me feel like I fit in.

  I know Kyungsoo's itching to leave.

          "Just a few more weeks," I say.

          "I hope I survive," Kyungsoo says. "Five APs and Ms. Kim's exam. It all just might kill me."