by Jason June
“I should clarify and say you can fly back as long as you don’t miss school,” Dad continued. “Speaking of which, get dressed. Just because it’s your birthday doesn’t mean you get to miss out on your education.”
I kept checking my phone on the way to school because Lu normally made a big deal about birthdays. This had to be the day she stopped shutting me out. But I didn’t get the annual wake-up call of her singing “Happy Birthday,” so maybe not.
“Happy birthday, Virgo!” Max pranced up next to my locker, then slapped a hand to his mouth in shock. “Lord and Taylor, you look terrible!”
“Good morning to you, too.”
“No, sorry, it’s just . . .” Max circled my face with his hands. “What’s going on here? I thought you had an epic weekend of locking lips with hot guys.”
“It’s Lu. I haven’t heard a peep from her since last week,” I said.
“You don’t think she’s mad about how well things are going for you when she’s just broken up with Chip, do you?” Max asked.
Leave it to him to call things out exactly as they were. “Yes. That’s precisely what I think.”
“Well, you’ve done all you can to get ahold of her, right?”
I nodded.
“Then that’s all you can do,” Max said. “She’ll come around eventually.”
I wasn’t so sure. Lu was known for her stubborn streak. She used it to her advantage a lot. Like how she got all her newspaper pieces in on time despite not having a laptop of her own to work from home, or how she always got people to give her quotes for her stories. For her gender-pay-gap article, she’d shown up on Donald Raben’s bus route for three whole months before he’d finally caved and told her what he made as a bus driver. How long would she hold out when it came to me?
Max fished through his typewriter-shaped Kate Spade bag. “I have just the thing to get your mind off this.” He pulled out his phone and opened Instagram with a picture of Reese and Spencer. Reese was wearing some sort of cream-colored tunic thing and held a lightsaber, while Spencer had on tight black pants and a black vest over a white long-sleeved shirt that also fit nice and snug over his body. “We’ll come up with ideas for how we’re going to beat these little asshats in the costume contest.”
The reminder of the dance only sent my thoughts reeling further. If Lu did ever decide to end her silence, I was going to have to break it to her that I wasn’t going to the hoedown.
“Reese and his”—Max rolled his eyes—“boyfriend are going as Luke Skywalker and Han Solo. According to Reese’s Insta, they’re the ‘quintessential couple that should have gotten together in hindsight.’ Really the only thing quintessential about that costume is that Reese is for sure the spawn of the most evil force in the universe.”
Max seemed more and more comfortable saying Reese’s name, so I thought he might be more willing to discuss his breakup issues. I opened my mouth to ask if he wanted to talk out his feelings, but Max held his hand up to stop me. He wasn’t wearing his twin gold bracelets anymore. “No,” he said. “We’re not talking about it, remember? I’m fine.”
I figured I should drop it or risk Max pushing me away like he had Damon and Cami.
“Okay, gotta go,” Max said as the warning bell rang for class. “Let’s brainstorm something great that will kill their costume idea like Emperor Palpatine killing Darth Vader. Later, may the Force be with you!”
Max left and I turned to head to calculus but came face-to-face with the school secretary, Mr. Hammond.
“Jay?” He was standing so close I could smell the coffee on his breath.
I coughed. “Y-yes?”
“Follow me, please. There’s been an emergency. You’re needed in the office right away.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Mr. Hammond didn’t answer. He just kept speed-walking toward the office.
I was in too much of a Best Friend Fiasco mindset to have any idea what this could be about. My mind raced through the possibilities: Grammy or Gramps was in the hospital; Dad got into a car accident while Ubering someone through town; there really was some Dairy Disaster at Fresh Savings and Mom got taken out in a massive milk mishap.
Mr. Hammond ushered me through the glass doors of the office and into an empty cubicle. “I’ve put them on hold.” He pointed to a phone where a blinking red button flashed in time with the pounding of my heart. “Just hit that button there, and she should be waiting for you.”
I swallowed. My spit took so long to make it down my throat it felt like it was filled with rocks. “Okay,” I breathed. Mr. Hammond gave me a sympathetic pat on the back and left. I picked up the receiver and with a shaking finger pressed Line 2. “Hello?”
“OM fucking G, it’s taken me ages to get ahold of you!” Lu shouted. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find phone numbers these days without a cell phone?”
“Lu!” I yelled, then quickly slapped my hand over my mouth. I didn’t want Mr. Hammond to come racing back to discover this wasn’t an emergency at all, but a chat with my bestie. “Where have you been?”
“Our, uh . . . our cell phones got shut off on Friday. We’re behind on payments. Without my phone, I had to wait until I got to class this morning to google the number for your school. Ms. Bellinger’s letting me use her phone. She says hi, by the way.” Ms. Bellinger was the pre-calc teacher. Ever since I’d won my second WAMbledon title, I could do no wrong in her eyes. “Things are tighter than ever.”
“Oh, Lu—”
“Don’t. I know how bad it is.” She sighed so heavily I could practically feel it through the phone. “Carol’s hardly getting any private clients. But I’m taking as many shifts as I can at the diner, and we should have the cell bill paid by my next payday. And that’s enough about that, okay? It’s your birthday! Tell me everything that’s going on with you.”
“I can’t go to the hoedown.” The words just fell out of me, like my brain decided before my heart that this was the time to rip the Band-Aid off. I wanted to wait until things were going smoothly in Lu’s life to tell her about the dance, but at this rate, Lu’s life would never be back to normal.
A truck roared in the background, followed by a ton of laughter. “Sorry, Jay, Ms. Bellinger’s windows are open, and you know how Travis Massey loves to rev his truck. He’s so macho. What did you say?”
So much for ripping the Band-Aid off quickly.
“I said . . .” Deep breaths, Jay, deep breaths. “I can’t go to the hoedown. With you. Or anyone. Because I’m not going.”
More truck rumbling. More laughter. But nothing from Lu.
“Lu?” I tried. “Can you hear me?”
“I heard you,” she said flatly. “I just can’t believe what you’re saying.”
“Look, I know it sounds bad. It’s just that homecoming is the same night as the hoedown, and—”
“I thought you said it was the week after. On the sixteenth.”
Of course she hadn’t forgotten that detail. This was Lu Fuhrman, star journalist of the Riverton Reporter, known for her ability to get facts straight.
“I got the date wrong,” I lied. But it was just a tiny white lie. It didn’t change the fact that the dances were on the same night, and how long I had known the dates conflicted was irrelevant. Wasn’t it?
“That’s unfortunate,” Lu said. “Aren’t you the guy who has a way with numbers? The Jay I know makes lists and writes everything down. It seems really unlike you to mess that up.”
She was 100 percent right.
“I could still make a costume for you and somebody else,” I offered. “It’d be like I was there all along.” I thought if I just skipped over the date snafu, we could come up with something productive.
“I don’t want to go with anyone else, Jay. I want to go with you. This was about us being together.”
My anxiety was suddenly wiped away with a fiery burn. Was that really what this was about? Us going together? She was the one who had been planning to go
with Chip instead of me.
“I don’t know, I just kind of feel like this is a case of sloppy seconds,” I said, not caring about the bite in my tone. “What if Chip was still with you? Would we even be having this conversation?”
“Are you kidding me, Jay? Chip was my boyfriend. That’s who you’re supposed to go to dances with. Your boyfriend.”
Boyfriend. There it was again. If you had a significant other, you could get away with almost anything. You could ditch your best friend again and again, just like Lu had over the summer. It didn’t matter whether or not it was right. Having a boyfriend was like some X-Men ability that absolved you of everything.
So I decided to use the power for myself.
“Well, I’m going to homecoming with my boyfriend,” I said. It technically wasn’t a lie if my plan was to get a boyfriend before the dance. It hadn’t happened yet, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t.
“Jay, that’s . . .” Lu hesitated. Would she be happy for me? Or would she focus on the fact that I was bailing on her? We’d spent so many hours talking about what it would be like when I finally got to experience a relationship for the first time. For all she knew, it was actually happening. This was a big moment. She should be there for me.
“That’s huge,” Lu finished. “I’m really happy for you.”
I instantly felt guilty for ever doubting her, and for thinking she’d shut me out after a huge weekend of Gay Agenda milestones. There was no way she would have ignored that on purpose. “Thanks, Lu.”
“Is it Albert?” she asked.
This time my heart spoke before my brain. “Yeah.” He kissed me like he wanted to give me a piece of his soul. That had to mean he eventually would ask me to be in a relationship. Then this whole conversation with Lu wouldn’t really be a lie.
“That’s great,” Lu said. “You should go with him to homecoming. You’re right. I would have done the same thing.”
She sounded resigned. Lifeless. Not at all like herself.
“Listen, my phone will probably come back on sometime next week,” she said. “Then I’m going to be pretty busy for a while.” I could hear Lu clack her nails. She was nervous or sad or . . . lying. “Shifts at the diner, interviews I’ve got to do for the paper. I’ll call you whenever I’m free. Okay?”
“’Kay.”
“Happy birthday, Jay. Sounds like it’s been a pretty good one.”
She hung up. I stared at the phone long past when the dial tone kicked in. I’d gotten what I wanted: a way out of the hoedown. I was all clear to cross numbers three and four off the Gay Agenda, like some cosmic birthday gift from the Gay Gods.
But why did I feel so awful?
That awful feeling lingered all day. Albert wasn’t around at lunch to help lift my mood either. He had something to do with the Robotics Club, so he had to skip selling homecoming tickets, and Max was out getting decorating supplies for the dance. This was not the way I pictured ringing in my eighteenth birthday: alone and feeling like I’d just made a big mistake.
I felt terrible all the way into my last period of the day, Civics and Current Events. I was trying to distract myself by coming up with costume ideas for Homecoming in Hindsight when my thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Mrs. Gakstetter stopped her talk about electoral college votes and how that messed-up system works to shout, “Come in!”
Nobody opened the door. Instead, another knock.
“I said come in!” Mrs. Gakstetter yelled.
Again, nobody entered. Just another knock.
Mrs. Gakstetter stomped to the door and flung it open. “What do you wan—Oh!”
She leaped out of the way as something zoomed past her. I couldn’t make it out from my seat in the back corner of the room, but people started laughing instantly. Julian from the football team shouted, “Hey, it’s R2-D2.” Then he turned around and pointed his still-bandaged hand right at me. “And he’s coming for Jay.”
“What?” I stood up so I could get a better view of whatever was cruising past the first row of desks.
It was Albert’s remote-controlled printer on wheels. Sitting right on top was a GoPro, and duct-taped to the side was a brand-new purple JanSport backpack. There was an envelope pinned to it that said, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JAY. I still hadn’t found the time to get myself a new bag with the distraction of boys and making out with hot snowmen and video game romances. Albert had clearly noticed. Yet another reason why he was such a good choice for first-boyfriend status.
PrinterBot rolled to a stop by my desk, its googly eyes shaking. It looked so ridiculous that I couldn’t help but laugh, even though I was totally mortified that the whole class was staring at me.
I grabbed the backpack and opened the attached envelope. The card inside had a birthday cake on it in the shape of a rocket ship blasting over the planet. Penned-in dinosaurs were drawn over the continents. I flipped the card open to find this note:
Hope your birthday
is out of this
JURASSIC
world.
It was the cutest thing anyone had ever done for me.
Beneath Albert’s name was a P.S.:
Max may have let slip it was your birthday. My (selfish) wish for you is that we get a lot more time together.
Then PrinterBot did a twirl to reveal another sign taped to its back.
Homecoming?
This was the kind of birthday present I had fantasized about. I was getting asked to my first dance by a VSB who made my insides quiver. And sure, Max and I were technically entering the costume contest together, but that didn’t mean Albert and I couldn’t re-create our soul-shattering smooch while slow dancing to Shawn Mendes. I’d explain the whole situation to Albert. I had a feeling he’d understand why I wanted to have Max’s back.
I looked into the GoPro, where Albert had to be watching from the other end.
“I’d love to.” I nodded for good measure, just in case the camera didn’t carry sound.
Mrs. Gakstetter’s clogs clacked angrily as she made her way to my desk. “Jay? What is going on here?”
I glanced at the googly-eyed PrinterBot and smiled.
“Just a little bot of romance.”
18.
French Kiss After French Films
I always wondered how two people could go from spending zero time together to becoming virtually glued at the hip, conjoined-twins-but-actually-lovers. Like at Riverton, one second Monica Delancey and Liam Petrus were both single, then they’d made out at the Steiner bonfire, and wham! Nobody saw them apart ever again.
After our date and homecoming arrangement (Albert was totally fine if I entered the costume contest with Max as long as I saved my dances for Albert), Albert and I became those annoyingly into-each-other lovebirds, constantly strutting our feathers and catching eyes and laughing at the dumbest things while we sold homecoming tickets each lunch period. Ms. Okeke told us we didn’t have to take every single ticket-selling session, but with one cheesy, grin-inducing look, Albert and I both said it was fine, we’d handle all the shifts.
So, I’d gone from being the only gay boy on a lonely island, to being on a folding-table island with a VSB while the rest of the world floated by. Regina and Shruti would stop and hang with us most days, and they’d always leave with eye rolls that said You’re gross, but it’s actually pretty cute.
I liked it. I liked being cute and gross.
And I liked being conjoined, the feel of Albert next to me, the sound of his laugh when I said something that really wasn’t funny. Sometimes we just had to guffaw or giggle or grin like that terrifying clown from It to just get the energy out that came from having somebody you clicked with on every level—personality-wise, romance-wise, kiss-me-again-wise, maybe-can-we-please-take-off-our-clothes-wise.
Albert’s and my heavy flirtation made the week go by in a blur, and many of my concerns didn’t seem all that bad anymore. Lu would come around eventually, and then we’d laugh about how dumb it was that we could get upse
t over something with a name as ridiculous as hoedown.
My time with Albert also made one very important milestone slip my mind: my date with Tony. Which is why I gasped when I got a text from him while Max and I brainstormed costume ideas during our free period that Friday.
“What is it?” Max asked. “Did inspiration strike?”
“No,” I said, handing over my phone. “Look.”
We still on for tomorrow
That damn winky face sent phantom scruff tingles to my cheeks. And other tingles down south.
“What do I say?” I asked. “I mean, I should turn him down, shouldn’t I? Albert and I have been hanging around so much, it doesn’t feel right.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Max looked as bewildered as the parrots dotting his shirt dress with wide-eyed stares. “What did I tell you last weekend?”
“If he liked it then he should’ve put a ring on it.”
“Exactly. You and Albert are going to a dance together and you’ve been on one date. It’s not like you’re engaged or anything. You’re single and you get to be gay for the first time in your life. And I mean be like capital B, Biblically.”
Maybe Max was right. I could play the field a bit before I got tied down. And going on a date with Tony didn’t mean I had to stop seeing Albert. I could have the best of both worlds until Albert came up with another cute way to suggest boyfriendship like he had with the PrinterBot dance proposal.
I opened my texts and replied to Tony.
Absolutely.
His response came back almost instantly.
Pick you up at 7.
“Are you sure this doesn’t scream virginal country boy?” It was the next night, and I stood in front of my bathroom mirror picking at my denim jacket.
“I mean, sure, there is a country vibe, but now that you’ve upgraded to a V-neck shirt underneath, it shows just the right amount of chest,” Max said. “Country is your look.”