by Jason June
The next step toward that connection was accepting this Digimals date. Sure, it wasn’t the Space Needle, but this was a real-life VSB asking me to go out with him! I’d hardly played a video game ever in my life, but I was not going to let that get in the way of crossing item number two off the Gay Agenda.
JAY’S GAY AGENDA
1.Meet another gay kid. Somewhere, anywhere . . . please! in Seattle in, like, days!
1.5.Get checked out by a very VSB!
2.Go on a Digimals date with Albert a boy at the Space Needle and hold hands within the first ninety minutes.
3.Go to a dDance with a boy and have my first kiss slow dancing to Shawn Mendes while getting caught in a surprise Seattle downpour.
4.Have a boyfriend, one who likes to wrap me up in his arms and let me be little spoon, and maybe smells like coffee from all the cafés he goes to.
5.Fall in love with a boy, but wait for him to say it first so I don’t seem too desperate, and maybe he says it for the first time at Pike Place Market or in the first Starbucks.
6.Make out with Albert, with tongue, and hard enough that I’d get a little burn from his stubble. run my fingers along that perfect jawline.
7.See another penis besides my own, IRL, and do fun things with it!
8.Lose. My. Virginity!
9.Become part of a super-queer, super-tight framily by impressing everybody with my epic costumier skills, erasing the “new kid” label, and becoming homecoming royalty.
10.Figure out a way to make my gay dreams come true and not destroy my bestie’s life.
It was time to attempt flirting back for the first time in my life.
“No fair,” I tried. “You already know I can’t resist the Digihips.”
Albert’s smile was so big it made his glasses slip down his nose again. Flirt accomplished.
“Great,” he said. “Meet me by the Fish Market at Pike Place at noon on Sunday.”
“Fish Market. Pike Place. Got it.” I nodded so much I probably looked like a bobblehead. But Albert didn’t seem to care. He waved—actually, wholesomely waved—goodbye, and sauntered off, a little sway still in his hips. Images of my hands on them as we danced together at homecoming flashed through my mind. But I was getting ahead of myself. First thing first:
Our date.
My first date of all time.
It was finally happening.
10.
Get Dragged into a VSB’s Line of Sight
It’s the weirdest thing how you can live in such a seemingly depressing place—gray skies all the time, rain from hour to hour—but have it still be so full of color. Seattle was like that. It was gloomy, and it rained an average of 155 days a year, but all that rain made it full of the greenest greens I’d ever seen. And maybe it was just a trick of the gray skies juxtaposed against bright, sequined outfits, but I think the gray made drag queens go out in the most radiant colors they could find. Or maybe they just looked so vibrant because I was seeing drag queens in real life for the very first time.
Or maybe I was seeing everything in Technicolor because I was going on my first date ever the next day.
“Have I mentioned I have a date with Albert tomorrow?” I couldn’t stop bouncing on my toes. I had this feeling like I constantly needed to move, like if I somehow ran fast enough, I could make time move forward and then, wham! It’d be Sunday, and Albert and I would be in First Date Delirium.
“Yes, you’ve mentioned it a time or two,” Max said flatly. “And I’m happy for you. Thrilled. And while I fully support this date, all I’m saying is, you just finished your first week of school. Have all the fun with Albert you want, but keep your options open.”
Max and I stood outside the Pride of Lions Lounge and Disco, waiting in line to get into their monthly drag brunch. Each time someone new popped in line, Max peeked over his shoulder to give them an up-down.
“Are you expecting someone?” I asked.
“Of course I am. I told you I’d be introducing you to a very single boy. But if you’re too caught up with Albert and not interested . . .” Max shrugged his shoulders. “I guess my Gay Guide services aren’t needed.”
“No,” I rushed. “You’re doing great. I’m happy to meet anybody you want to introduce me to. And you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t get too hung up on Albert so quickly.”
Max beamed. “Trust me, you won’t be sorry.”
A big, burly bouncer was at the door looking at IDs. I kept obsessively checking my hair as we got closer to the front of the line. The rain was out in force, and the resulting mist continually crept under our umbrella and clung to my bangs.
“Lord and Taylor, if you keep doing that, your hair is going to fall out,” Max said.
I unstuck a wet strand from my forehead. “I can’t help it. This is my first real leap into queer culture, and I don’t need the moment ruined by limp bangs. Besides, if it’s always wet like this, I’m going to need practice on how to keep my ’do making me look . . . doable.”
“Do you honestly think I would let you go in there with anything less than the perfect coif?” Max asked. “Besides, they don’t call me Mary Poppins for nothing.” I wondered who exactly called Max Mary Poppins while he patted his white feathered bucket bag. “The bag may change with the outfit, but the necessities don’t. Serums, gels, sprays, you name it. Jizz Genie, remember?”
“I thought we agreed you’d never—”
“IDs.”
We’d made it to the front of the line and the big, burly bouncer (who I could now see wore a name tag with the very unburly name Lilli on it) held out his hand. His stare was the most intimidating look I’d ever come across. If we’d been trying to sneak in at night, when Pride of Lions was twenty-one and over, his glare would have made me confess how sinful we were. Even with a sweet name like Lilli.
Max and I handed over our licenses. Lilli gave them a quick glance, then pulled the thickest black Sharpie out of his jacket pocket.
“Hands.”
I held out my hand, palm up, fingers shaking. My nerves were on overdrive. It wasn’t just about being moments away from stepping through the threshold into my first drag show ever. It was about being in the presence of so many gay people for the first time in my life. I never knew until we got into that line, but there’s an energy you can get from other queer people that lets you know you’re part of the family. I felt it when a guy smirked at me in a way that said he thought I was cute, and when a lesbian couple beamed as they got in line behind us. Their smiles let me know I was welcome and part of the community. It simultaneously set me at ease and made me buzz, which resulted in shaking hands.
Lilli grabbed Max’s composed and shake-free fingers, holding the Sharpie over Max’s shimmer-enhanced skin.
“Do we have to do this every time, Lilli?” Max asked. “Garish permanent marker isn’t really my look. I’d be happy to wear a tasteful brooch to declare I’m underage as opposed to something that looks like a kindergartener figuring out how to spell.”
Lilli didn’t say a word. He just marked Max’s hand with a giant X.
“I guess that’s a no,” Max said, bitter. I wouldn’t be surprised if his outfits involved gloves for the rest of the week.
Lilli pointed to my shaking hand with a meaty finger. “Flip it over,” he commanded.
I turned my shivering palm upside down just before the longest, most bedazzled magenta fingernails came into view and grabbed my fingers.
“Oh, honey, you’re shaking like a leaf. Thank gawd you didn’t come for the Friday show. You think Lilli Putian’s scary now, just wait until you see her in drag.”
I looked up to find the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was wearing a bodysuit covered in sparkling scales in ombré shades of pink. They cascaded from her long elegant neck where gold dusted her ebony skin, all the way down to her pointy high-heeled boots. Even the headphones draped around her neck were covered in the sparkly scale pattern.
“The name’s Tuna Turner,” she s
aid, caressing my cheek with a curved nail. “The fishiest drag queen DJ in the Pacific Northwest.”
Max clapped his hands together. “This is my present for you, Tuna,” he said, directing a flourish my way. He had that very mischievous glint in his eye, and any thoughts of Tuna were swept away by the nervous guppies that suddenly swam in my stomach. “He’s a virgin.”
“Max!” I entrust him with the Gay Agenda, then he goes and blabs to random drag queens about my lack of sexual activity? Guess I’d be going to prison a virgin because I was about to murder him.
“A virgin!” Tuna squealed. “Oh, Max, you’re so good to me.” She pinched Max’s cheek, then cupped her hand around her mouth to yell, “We’ve got a first timer here, folks!”
Everyone in line looked up. Excited chatter—including way too many repetitions of the word virgin—rippled down the street. People in the lounge perked up too. Some even came back through the doorway to see firsthand the commotion caused by someone who’d had no boy-on-boy action. I needed to find out the stats about spontaneous combustion. I was fairly certain the odds of me bursting into flames were 100 percent.
Tuna pulled me behind her into the lounge and screamed, “HIT IT!”
Music blared from speakers over dozens of packed booths. Electric organs and saxophones blasted while Tuna struck a pose, hand on hip above a sparkly pink fin sewn to the side of her bodysuit. Words began in a slightly raspy, fiery voice, and Tuna lip-synced perfectly.
“Oh, I left a good job in the city . . .”
Tuna’s magenta fingernails dug into my skin as she grabbed my hand with an iron grip.
“What’s happening?” I asked. I looked with wide, terrified eyes into Tuna’s. She batted her glittering lashes innocently.
“You’re a drag virgin,” she said. I felt a very brief sense of relief that all the first-timer talk was about attending a drag show. “We’re rolling down the river, baby.” She said it at just the right time so that she never lost her place in the lip sync. “And I never lost one minute of sleepin’ . . .”
I knew I’d heard the song somewhere before, but I couldn’t place it. Tuna’s hair looked very familiar too: it was short in the back, but high and full on top, streaks of blond reaching for the sky. If the energy and exuberance of the song were turned into a haircut, this would totally be it. Her hair whipped to the side as she grabbed my free hand in hers and spun us around in circles.
“Big wheel, keep on turning! Proud Mary, keep on burning.”
Then Tuna was pulling me behind her, the faces of everybody in the lounge flying past.
“Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ on a river.”
We were rolling, rolling on a river of patrons. Their eyes were locked on us, their phones were out, and they all pointed at me way too much. I only ever got this amount of attention in costume, when it was like I had a shield of cardboard and duct tape and superglue. Just Jay on complete display like this was my worst nightmare.
We rolled back up the way we’d come. If people didn’t get a good look the first time, they for sure would get a second shot at basking in my embarrassment.
A second verse came and went in the blink of an eye, but also slower than any song ever had a right to be. Tuna still had a grip on my hand, making sure I couldn’t escape the stares of everyone inside Pride of Lions. I would have given anything for a pride of lions to come through right at that moment and eat me alive.
The “Rollin’” chorus came along again, followed by a bunch of “Doot, doot, doot, doot” that was punctuated by even more drums and saxophones. Tuna bent forward and thrust her arms out with the beat.
“Do it with me, baby, come on,” Tuna yelled.
“Oh, I couldn’t . . .”
“HOLD IT!”
The music scratched to a stop. Like, literally, a record scratch cut through the speakers.
“What’s your name, honey?” Tuna asked.
“J-Jay,” I whispered. “Jay.”
Tuna faced the crowd. “JayJay here thinks he can’t do Ms. Tina Turner’s classic move.” Even without a microphone Tuna’s voice was as loud as if she was magnified by the speakers. “Who here thinks JayJay can do it?”
The crowd whistled and screamed. I looked at Max back in the doorway, hoping he could see the panic in my eyes and get me the frack out of there. Instead he was standing next to an inordinately cute guy, and both of them were pointing at me with the rest of the drag brunchers.
“There’s only one way out of this, baby,” Tuna said. “You ready?”
I couldn’t speak past the frog in my throat, so I just nodded.
“HIT IT!” Tuna screamed again, and the music blared once more. All eyes were zeroed in on us—including Max’s and Cutie McCuterson’s—as the song picked back up.
This was it. If I wanted out of this, I was just going to have to play along.
That’s when I had a vision of Albert thrusting from side to side without any care in the world. I needed to stop worrying so much and channel his Digihips.
The saxophones came to punctuate the doots again. In time with Tina, Tuna and I flung our hands forward, bent down, and thrashed our hair back and forth. My hair was fluffed just right to swoop and hit the beat.
“YEEEEEES, HUNTY,” Tuna cried, and the crowd roared like it was actually a pride of lions. My face was on fire, but this time from a good sort of embarrassment, something I had no idea existed. I was still absolutely mortified, but I felt in on the joke, like I was a part of something bigger. People were pointing and laughing, but in a He’s really going for it and look at his great hair-ography type of way. Warm tingles cascaded through my entire body. For the first time ever, I put myself out there in front of a crowd, just Jay, and it went well.
Max was smiling bigger than I’d ever seen him smile, and that cute guy next to him had his eyes laser-focused on me. I didn’t think it was possible, but my cheeks got even redder as he caught my eye and winked.
“Everybody give it up for JayJay!” Tuna lifted my hands in the air, the whooping and hollering picking up as she twirled me in front of the crowd. “You’re officially initiated, honey. And I’m going to come to you if I ever need backup dancers.”
Despite how exhilarated I felt, I didn’t think backup dancer was going to be my career of choice.
Tuna gave me a kiss on the cheek before another song started and she got back to her hosting duties. I booked it over to Max before I could get pulled into another number.
“Lord and Taylor, that was fan-fucking-tastic!” Max said. He elbowed the cutie standing with him. “Don’t you think, Tony?”
“Really, that was amazing.”
Now that I was up close, I could see that Cutie McCuterson—er, Tony—wasn’t just an inordinately cute guy, he was certifiably H. O. T. T.
HOTNESS OVERLOAD TONY TRAITS
1.Shockingly green eyes (that rivaled the emerald power of Seattle’s nature)
2.Flawless skin (with the exact shade of tan I tried and failed to get over the summer)
3.Perfectly straight teeth (that looked very white against said tan skin and would make him the only reasonable choice for a model for both his orthodontist and the next Calvin Klein underwear ad)
“I had other newbies with me when I first came to this drag brunch,” Tony continued. “I don’t think I could have faced the crowd alone. You’re very brave.”
He smirked at me, but in that way that oozed I’m into you. It was how I’d felt earlier making eye contact with the occasional guy standing in line, only times a thousand. Tony was clearly sending signals, and if there was anything else that could have gotten me more worked up than thinking about Tony in an underwear ad, it was thinking about me and Tony standing in our underwear together.
Max poked me in the ribs. “Say something,” he whispered.
“I’m Jay.” It was the most creative thing that came to mind.
“Tony.” He put his hand out, and we shook. Electric jolts bolted up my skin. I swear his touch ma
de my arm hairs stand on end.
“Tony graduated from Capitol Hill two years ago,” Max explained. He looked at our clasped hands and let loose a self-satisfied shrug. Tony kept clutching my fingers, a smirk perpetually playing at the corner of his lips. This was the most physical contact I’d ever had with a guy who was into me. And while it wasn’t on a date at the Space Needle, and it happened before my Digimals date with Albert, maybe this meant I could technically scratch “hold hands” in item number two off the agenda.
I stared at our hands, positive we could power the entire city of Seattle with the energy buzzing between us. Tony’s long fingers dwarfed mine. There was something about his hand being big enough to fold mine into his that sent a thrill through me. And his lingering contact had to mean that Tony was into it, too, right? Scientists say if someone gets into your personal bubble—as in, zero to eighteen inches away from you—they are more likely to be physically attracted to you. With Tony keeping my hand in his, I’d say we counted as zero inches apart.
Max was so right. I had rushed too quickly into thinking Albert would be the guy to cross all the items off the Gay Agenda with. Why focus on only one boy when there could be a whole smorgasbord of gays just waiting to give me my first kiss? Or first make-out? I’d have to tweak the plan as soon as I had some alone time with my notebook.
JAY’S GAY AGENDA
1.Meet another gay kid. Somewhere, anywhere . . . please! in Seattle in, like, days!