The music starts and I vaguely recognize the song, a techno beat that awakens something in the back of my mind, though I can’t place what.
‘Good evening, Sydney!’
We couldn’t be further from Sydney if we tried. But the welcome isn’t coming from a person that’s here. It’s Kylie Minogue’s voice. I know the voice and I know the song. It was in the first show I did with my dance school. I can remember practically every single move. I can see it playing out in my head. It’s from Kylie’s live album, so there is cheering and clapping coming through the speakers as well as from the people in the room.
‘How’re you feeling tonight?’
My eyes find the stage as the lights change, as a new face stands in front of the sparkly streamers. She’s wearing a leotard covered in so many sequins and rhinestones she looks like a walking star, with purple fringing on her chest and at her cinched waist. The leotard is practically skin-coloured and, were it not for all the rhinestones catching the light and giving me some kind of sparkle blindness, I’d swear she was nude.
Her hair is blonde, perfectly swept into a pouffey, barely shoulder-length do that is absolute unclockable. It moves with her as she twirls about the stage, hairography for days, her make-up perfection. She’s hitting every lyric, matching every breath, every sound of Kylie Minogue’s ‘In Your Eyes’ as if Kylie were standing in front of us actually singing it.
She spins and twirls, and the audience are losing their minds and I am standing here feeling like I’m losing mine. I can’t move. All I can do is stare, watching as every sequin sparkles, as she mesmerizes me, pulling me into her world.
Kaye Bye throws her feather boa into the audience and as the girls in the front row fight over it I find myself wishing we’d got here earlier to get a seat that near to the stage because I want to be close to her. She drops to her knees and I’m screaming and cheering with everyone else. Watching the way she dances across the stage, every move precise, choreographed, things I could definitely do, but not in a six-inch heel. I know I want to be like her. I want to do this. I could do this. I could be like her.
The number ends and I am a little delirious. Kaye Bye waves to us as she leaves the stage, somehow still holding my focus as she disappears through the door.
‘Robin? What’s up?’ Greg asks, appearing at my side and snaking an arm across my lower back to give me a squeeze.
‘I’m fine,’ I say. ‘Why?’
‘You’re crying, Robin,’ he says.
‘Yeah.’ I sniff. ‘That was just—’
‘How freaking amazing was that?!’ Natalie appears in front of me, like she’s just materialized out of thin air.
‘I love it here!’ Priya screams. ‘Babes, great birthday location.’
‘It was amazing!’ Greg replies.
Natalie looks at me again, suddenly noticing the tears. ‘Whoa, hang on, are you all right?’ she asks. ‘You shouldn’t be crying – it’s your birthday!’
‘No, no, no,’ I say, wiping my face. ‘I’m not sad. It’s just, that was . . . shit, it was . . .’ I trail off. I don’t know how to describe watching her on that stage. It was almost like an out-of-body experience. ‘That,’ I say decisively, ‘was amazing.’
‘She was pretty great,’ Natalie says. ‘Another drink? They’ll be back to start performing again in a minute.’
I nod and Natalie vanishes, but the world feels different all of a sudden. The evening rushes past in a blur of drag excellence and I cheer so hard that I know I will be paying for it by having no voice tomorrow morning, but I don’t care.
Even as we leave, the four of us tumbling into a cab, my world is still spinning around, and I don’t think it’s the alcohol doing that. It’s Kaye Bye. She performed twice more, a mix of Britney Spears songs and then a lip sync of ‘Applause’ by Lady Gaga peppered with quotes from Keeping Up with the Kardashians, every second of it executed flawlessly. Which isn’t to take away anything from the other queens on that stage. Anne Drogyny, Pristine, Cole and Carrie were incredible performers, all blowing my mind, but there was something about Kaye that caught my imagination. She’s in my head, she’s everything that I see and somehow everything I want to be, dancing, twirling, singing, lip-syncing the mother-tucking house down. I’m floating and I don’t feel like coming down.
ELEVEN
I barely stopped thinking about Kaye Bye all weekend. Natalie took some videos of her and put them on her Instagram stories and I lost track of the amount of times I watched them before they vanished. How could one person be so mesmerizing?
It sounds silly, but there was something about her up on that stage that made me feel like everything was going to be OK. Sure, my future was uncertain, but in that space none of that mattered.
When Mum got in at three o’clock on Saturday afternoon, we celebrated my birthday. We had toast and talked about what had happened to her at work and what had happened to me at Entity and, in spite of myself, I found myself leaving out details. After hearing her worries, it was like I didn’t want to share too much. She had to go to bed so she could be up again at midnight to go back to work, so I spent the evening by myself.
On Sunday morning, I’ve not heard from Connor. I message him first thing asking what we’re doing, what time I should come over, but I don’t hear anything.
I do my homework.
I check my phone with aggressive frequency.
It’s not until later in the afternoon that his name pings up on my screen.
I’m sorry about today. Parents didn’t go out.
Haven’t been able to get away . . .
That’s OK.
I’ll make it up to you. Promise. Xx
OK. Xx
It’s not OK. And I know it’s not OK. And yet . . .
TWELVE
I’m at my locker on Monday morning after a manic cycle ride to school when someone appears next to me. I look down to see battered Converse, jeans with rips at the hems, at the knees, so many rips in fact that they’re barely jeans, they’re just bits of denim held together by a hopeful stitch and a prayer.
We accidentally slam our lockers simultaneously and I let out a yelp as I’m suddenly face to face with him, mine no doubt covered in sweat, my hair stuck to my forehead, everything about me showing off the fact that I am late, late, late.
But I lose my breath a little more as I take him in.
And holy shit.
Holy absolute freaking shit.
He’s even prettier up close.
He’s about my height, his blond hair cropped close to his head on the sides but a little fluffier on top, and he’s smiling at me. So it’s all but confirmed that I look ridiculous and I wish I was smart enough to keep a mirror in my locker or something so I don’t have to walk around school looking like I’ve been dragged through a hedge.
‘Hi,’ he says, still grinning. He honestly looks like he should be wearing a leather jacket or something right now, he’s just got that vibe, a level of confidence I can only dream of. And I realize I’m literally just standing there staring at him.
Christ, Robin, say something.
‘Hey.’
Inspired.
‘Guess we’re locker buddies,’ he says, gesturing to the grey metal like I’ve not seen them before. He has a jawline so sharp it could cut me.
‘Certainly looks that way,’ I reply, the shake in my voice unmistakable. I hate myself so much right now.
‘I’m Seth.’
‘I know,’ I say.
‘What?’
‘Sorry, I just—’
‘You’ve heard about me,’ he says, shuffling a little on the spot. ‘All awful, I imagine.’
‘Um . . . well—’
‘It’s not all true,’ he says.
‘I try not to listen when people talk about it,’ I say. ‘It must be hard to be new.’
He looks at me carefully.
‘That’s nice of you,’ he says. ‘Some of it’s true, maybe, but not all of it. Can I introduce
myself properly?’
‘Clean slate,’ I say.
He reaches his hand out towards me. ‘I’m Seth.’
‘Oh, a handshake, OK, then.’ I shake his hand, laughing nervously, cursing every word I have just said. Why am I like this? Why am I allowed to be around people?
‘I’m Robin.’
‘I’m new here.’
I mock gasp. ‘You are?’
He laughs. ‘Yeah, I just moved here.’
‘Did you?’ My voice squeaks a little, and I cough to try to cover it up. ‘From where?’
‘London.’
‘London?’ I say like I’ve never heard of it before. ‘Shit. From the big smoke to little old Essex – you’ll be bored out of your mind.’
‘I don’t think so.’ He shrugs. ‘I’ll find something to do.’
I so want to be the something he would find to do. Wait. Hold on. That’s a bit wrong. Let me rephrase that.
‘Which way is the student office?’ he asks. ‘They’re . . . um . . . not happy with my attendance so I’ve been told to go there. I just don’t know where it is.’
‘Sure, no problem,’ I say, walking him away from the lockers and pointing down the corridor. ‘Straight down there, make a right. If you bump into a bunch of stoners outside the tech block, you’ve gone too far.’
He laughs. I don’t really want to tell him I’m being serious because his laugh sounds like music.
‘Thanks, Robin,’ he says. ‘I’ll see you around.’
‘Good luck!’ I say. ‘Nice to meet you.’
He laughs again. ‘Yeah, nice to meet you too.’
He walks away and, in spite of myself, I find myself watching him go.
I head into my English class, thankful that Mr Goldberg is buried in paperwork and letting the class chat before he starts his lesson, and slide into my usual place next to Natalie.
‘Ooh, look at her all stealthy,’ she teases. ‘Call me, beep me, if you wanna reach me.’
‘Is that a Kim Possible reference?’
She shrugs. ‘It might be.’
‘OK, work.’ I say. ‘And good morning to you too.’
‘Good morning,’ she says with a grin. ‘How many times have you watched that video?’
It reached the point where I had to see the video of Kaye Bye again so I asked Natalie to send it over. I watched it periodically on Saturday between rounds of homework. And then before bed. And then on Sunday when I was waiting for Connor to text. And then when I woke up this morning. It’s been a long time since I’ve been totally obsessed with something, but this feels like another freaking level.
‘My homework is very half-arsed,’ I say. ‘I’m genuinely scared there are Kylie Minogue lyrics in my Hamlet essay.’
‘To do or not to do the locomotion.’
‘A little more than kin, and less than confide in me.’
‘Friends, Romans, countrymen, your disco needs you.’
‘That’s not Hamlet,’ I manage, choking on my own laughter.
‘No, but picture a drag queen called Julia Sees-Her and tell me that’s not perfect!’
We fall about in fits of giggles and I hear chairs scrape and jackets shuffle as people turn to look at us making a scene at the back of the room. Mr Goldberg fixes us with a withering stare and we calm down. He goes back to his paperwork, Natalie leans closer to me.
‘So, you really enjoyed yourself?’ she whispers.
‘Oh God yes,’ I groan. ‘I didn’t want to leave.’
‘I noticed,’ she says. ‘You were begging for a third or fourth encore.’
‘They could have kept going forever and I wouldn’t have got bored,’ I say. ‘How did they even do all of that? I mean, the performances were one thing, but the make-up, the outfits, the wigs . . . All of it was so . . .’ I sigh and rest my head on the table. ‘It was so bloody perfect.’
Natalie eyes me curiously. ‘Why are you looking all sad about it now? We had a great time. Don’t turn back into sad Robin! Sad Robin is so . . .’
‘Sad?’
‘Wow, you know, it’s like you’re inside my head,’ she deadpans.
‘I just want to go again!’
‘Well, we can!’ she says. ‘It’s great there.’
‘It’s gay there!’
‘Lucky you’re massively gay and I’m massively supportive of that as a pansexual princess.’ She smiles, nudging me.
‘Morning, kids.’ I hear Greg plant himself at the desk next to mine. ‘You’re quiet, Robin.’
‘I have the post-birthday blues,’ I say, though I can’t bring myself to tell them about what happened with Connor yesterday. Or rather what didn’t. ‘I miss Kaye Bye.’
Natalie snorts. ‘We can go again,’ she says. ‘You don’t need to be so dramatic about it. What’s really up?’
And the reason for my weird mood has been sitting in my head for basically the whole weekend. Or at least the part of it where I wasn’t thinking about Connor. I’ve not really had the courage to say it out loud, not even to myself, because the idea seems so unbelievably ridiculous. It’s on the tip of my tongue and if anyone would understand it, it would be Natalie and Greg.
‘I want to be her.’ The words float out of my mouth and I watch them as they drift up and smack Natalie in the face.
‘Oh my gosh, hang on, wait, we need to—’
She stops dead. There’s a pause all around us. I can feel it in the air. And I’m suddenly worried that I’ve said it too loud and the whole class now knows. I sit up to see what’s going on, expecting all eyes on me, everyone with a question on their lips about the all-singing, all-dancing queen who now wants to be a different kind of queen.
But they’re not.
They’re all focused on the door.
Seth is standing there looking somewhere between unsure of himself and like he owns the actual room.
‘That’s him,’ Natalie whispers. ‘Don’t all stare at once, but that’s the new guy.’
I find myself waving at him before I can stop myself. When he notices me, his face bursts into a smile and I see him start breathing again, his entire body reanimating before he walks over to us.
‘Wait, you know him?’ Natalie hisses. ‘Since when? Tell me more, tell me more, like, does he have a car?’
‘You tell him about Grease, I will murder you,’ I say just as Seth appears in front of us. ‘Hey, Seth, long time no see.’
Natalie chokes on air as my voice cracks over his name. I want the ground to swallow me up.
‘This is Mr Goldberg’s English class, right?’ he says.
‘You’d know if you’d actually shown up to one since you got here.’
‘Nat!’ Greg says.
‘What? I’m not wrong.’
‘You’re in the right place,’ I say, which earns me another one of his smiles. I’m so doomed. Natalie clears her throat next to me. ‘This is Natalie, this is Greg.’
They greet him in turn and the silence that falls is so heavy and awkward it may just kill us. Which would be a blessing. My cheeks are so red you could see them from space.
‘How did you two meet?’ Natalie asks, leaning forward on the desk, eyeing Seth extremely carefully.
‘In the corridor about ten minutes ago,’ Seth says. He doesn’t know Natalie well enough to realize this is the beginning of an interrogation and he is doomed as all heck.
‘We’re locker buddies,’ I blurt, and immediately regret it. But Natalie either hasn’t heard or is too focused on Seth to rip me apart.
‘So you’re new?’ she says. ‘Exams are in, like, five months. What’s that about?’
‘It’s a long story,’ he says, taking the empty seat at the desk in front of us.
‘I like stories,’ she replies.
‘Leave him alone, Nat,’ I say, jabbing her in the side.
‘I’m sorry, do you want me to address “locker buddies”?’ She smiles a smile so sinister I want to disappear.
I turn to Seth who is once again smiling
at me. His teeth are a little crooked, maybe too big for his mouth, but still cute. Ah shit. Why, God, why?
‘You’re on your own,’ I say, with what I hope is a coy smile. Whatever I manage, it’s enough to make him laugh just as Mr Goldberg stands up and clears his throat to start the class.
‘Saved by the bell,’ Seth says, reaching into his bag and pulling out a notebook.
It’s fair to say I don’t get a lot done in that English class, instead choosing to memorize the back of Seth’s head while weathering scathing glances and eye rolls from Natalie. Every now and then he looks like he is about to turn round and ask me something, but he doesn’t. The class flies by and, when it’s over, Seth asks us for directions to the science block, which Greg gives him.
I want to walk him there, purely because there is something about him that is fascinating. Maybe it’s the brooding behaviour, maybe it’s the no-shits-to-give attitude, but I want to know more. Before I have a chance to offer myself up as tribute, he’s gone and I’m watching him go again. I need help.
‘You have some explaining to do,’ Natalie practically screams as she turns me round and walks me towards the common room. ‘What the hell was all that?’
‘Why did you have to accost him like that?’ I reply.
‘He was fine,’ Greg says. ‘If it had been you, you would have been on the floor praying for death, but he was a pro. I don’t think he even blinked.’
‘Yeah, he was holding his own,’ Natalie says.
‘You could have been a little nicer – he is new.’
‘OK, I’ll be nicer to him next time I see him,’ she says. ‘But we need to talk about your behaviour, sir.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Come on, Robin, he looked at you and you practically melted.’
I groan. ‘I request a change of subject!’
‘Absolutely not,’ Natalie replies. ‘What’s with you and new boy? What about Connor?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘No, you do not get to play dumb with me right now,’ she says. ‘You’re staring at him like some lost puppy when you already have a perfectly fine secret love of your own happening. Do you want to finish things with Connor?’
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