by Raziel Reid
There’s a honking outside his window. Tommy turns down the music and looks outside. He goes rigid.
It can’t be…
Parked in his driveway is Ken Hilton’s pink Corvette. It honks again and Allan jumps out, waving up at Tommy’s window.
“What the—”
Tommy runs down the stairs and out the front door.
“Allan?” he says, stepping onto the driveway.
“Hey, Tommy.” Allan smiles.
“What are you doing with Ken Hilton’s Corvette?”
“Dr. Hilton sold it to me. I’ve been saving up my Taco Accessory paychecks to buy a new car. My old one’s pretty much kaput.”
Tommy laughs. “You don’t say. But why this car?”
“Okay, I’ll admit—I secretly always liked it. Even when the Kens were trying to run me over. Wanna go for a spin?”
The WILLOWSLAND sign stretches across the hills. The dollhouses beyond are framed by the back of the giant letters.
Tommy and Allan are sitting on the hood of the Corvette. The sunset is pink. Another day is coming to an end in Willows. It’s bath time then lights out for its young god.
“Is that Ken Hilton’s earring?” Allan touches Tommy’s ear.
“I kind of robbed his grave…”
Tommy takes the earring out and stares at it between his fingers. The glow of the sunset reflects off the stone’s jagged edges.
“I knew I had to stop Blaine. I thought if I wore Ken Hilton’s earring that maybe some of his confidence would rub off on me. He wore it with the pride of a crown jewel. It was symbolic of his superiority and ultimate power—”
Allan takes the earring from Tommy’s hand and throws it through the center of the O. It disappears in the pink haze.
“You never needed it. Ken Hilton didn’t help you stop the Ken Suicides. It was all you, Tommy.”
“I guess it had to be. I did start them, whether I intended to or not.”
“I hear Plastic Place may never reopen,” Allan says. “They closed it to make sure the water was clean, but the safety inspector discovered Blaine’s dad had defied a ton of zoning laws and didn’t get the right permits.”
“Maybe he’ll sell it,” Tommy says, “and Willows can get its first mosque. Some diversity might be all this place needs to take it outside of itself.”
The peak begins to cool as the sun slips beneath the hills. Tommy shivers and Allan removes the red flannel sweater he’s wearing over his T-shirt, wrapping it around Tommy’s shoulders.
“I’m surprised you still want to be my friend after everything I’ve put you through,” Tommy says. “You warned me from the start not to become a Ken.”
“I just wish you had come to me sooner,” Allan says. “Like right after Ken Hilton died. But it wasn’t your fault, and in the end, you did the right thing. I thought it was really brave that you went on Willows News to tell everyone the truth.”
“Well, I wasn’t totally innocent. Hanging out with Blaine made the Kens look like they were manufactured for preschoolers.”
Tommy lets out a long sigh.
“I miss him,” he says.
“Are you kidding me?” Allan jumps off the hood of the car. “What was it with that guy?!”
“I mean, I miss the idea of him. I thought Blaine liked me before I transformed into a Ken. I’ll never find that out now. Even if I do reverse some of my plastic surgery, I’ll never be me again. Everyone who meets me will see a Ken.”
“Not everyone,” Allan says, climbing back onto the hood. He lifts his eyes to meet Tommy’s. His cheeks are as flaming as his hair.
Tommy stares into Allan’s eyes, clinging to the sweater around his shoulders. It smells like fast-food grease and lab chemicals. Beats leather. Tommy’s safe. “I guess I was so obsessed with how things could be, how I thought they had to be for me to be happy, that I didn’t see what was right in front of my old face,” he says. “I didn’t see that there was already happiness, if I only chose it.”
Tommy reaches for Allan’s hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.
“You always made it seem like anything less than the Kens wasn’t worthy. Maybe I was worried I didn’t measure up.”
“You’ll have to forgive me.” Tommy squeezes Allan’s hand. “I wasn’t thinking.”
He almost holds his breath but doesn’t let himself this time. Tommy wants to feel this. He closes his eyes, leaning in to kiss Allan, and—
it’s perfect.
THE, LIKE, ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
TY Westwood Creative Artists—Liz Culotti who helped me create the perfect shade of pink, and my daddy, Michael Levine.
TY Lynne Missen, Margot Blankier, Linda Pruessen and Erin Kern at Penguin Random House Canada for being the Hocho, Eyes and Ribbon emojis to this text.
TY Five Seventeen, Anthony Gerace and Chris Howey for putting together my very own Barbie box.
TY Daniel Waters and Tina Fey. In some parallel universe I’m still showing up to school and getting a right hook to the nose for acting like a Heather Chandler/Regina George hybrid. The Kens were born of the blood.
TY Literarische Colloquium Berlin where some of this book was written.
TY to my family for their support and cabin on Lake Winnipeg where some of this book was written.
TY Susan Safyan, Suzanne Sutherland and Liz Levine for insights on my pretty mess.
TY torsos of Grindr for all the inspiration.
TY Jaik Puppyteeth for your tattoo designs, one of which I gave Blaine.
TY Quotewise for curating Ruth Handler quotes.
TY Mattel for the big dreams not sold separately.
RAZIEL REID is the author of When Everything Feels Like the Movies, which won the 2014 Governor General’s Award for Young People’s Literature and has been optioned for film. He lives in his head, which is based in Vancouver. Follow him @razielreid.