Julian’s closest friend, a boy he had known since the third grade, suddenly stopped answering his messages, unwilling, it seemed, to be seen anywhere near a classmate in a gown.

Even the school got involved.

Willowcrest High called our house and, in the careful, managed language of administrators protecting themselves, gently suggested that Julian might choose what they described as a “more appropriate way” to honor whatever it was he wished to honor.

They did not know what he was honoring, of course.

None of them did.

Julian thanked them, politely, with the same unshakable calm he had shown me at the kitchen table.

And then he wore the dress anyway.