“Why can’t you?”
“How do I prove this?” Julian said, gesturing down to his body dressed in loose jeans and a Black Sabbath T-shirt. Nothing special, nothing that out of the ordinary. It was the inside stuff that no one could see where something was amiss. “I’m just… I don’t know. It is what it is.”
Josie laughed. “I thought that wasn’t a good answer?”
“It’s not. But it’s all I have.” Julian sighed, slumping down onto his bed. As he did, a sheet of purple paper fell out of O Pioneers! that he hadn’t seen previously. He picked it up and looked at Josie with a raised eyebrow. “From you?”
“No. I have no idea what that is. I was only Maria’s spy.”
Julian folded open the slip of paper, then recognized Mr. Singer’s writing right away. Part of him wanted to groan and cry out Why is this teacher doing this to me? I don’t want help. But another part was curious, and in the emotional state he was in, he desperately needed whatever kind of encouragement this was.
Hey, J. I wanted to give you more instruction in class, but since I hear you’re going to be gone until the semester starts again, I figured I’d write you some personalized instructions for your essay.
I was also thinking about what you told me about stories. I still think you’re wrong, but I also see how you’re right. The thing is, if you have enough people to believe the story you’re telling, then it becomes real. Not a fantasy. Santa Claus only works because there are enough kids out there who believe in him and give him credit. He may be a hoax, sure, but can you really fault a hoax that makes people feel good? And I do stand by Santa as a good hoax. There are enough bad ones out there (really, most are bad), but I do believe that Santa, and all the stories we tell ourselves, are good. Santa, like those stories, is created out of nothing. Those stories are shaped by those who read and those who believe until they become something else. Instead of focusing on the deceit of Santa for young children, think of it this way: the belief only goes on so long as it is needed. Then a void is filled a different way, through another story we like.
We never stop telling stories, J. Even if we know they’re not true. So we may as well pick the ones we like and ignore the others. Find the right people who believe the ones we want. This is not the exception—this is the rule. So I want you to think about this power of stories for your essay, and then write me something that you feel fits this topic. About 2,000 words double-spaced. Name at the top, along with my class section and all that other stuff you know so well.
Before I grade this, I do want you to know that I’m on your side, J. Even if just as a teacher. Sometimes the smallest parts add up to something more.
I look forward to seeing you next semester. Happy Holidays.
Julian stared at the note a long time, going over and over what Mr. Singer had written. He wanted to crumple it into a ball and throw it across the room. Deny the help ever existed. Deny everything had ever occurred and go back to being ignored at the back of the room. But he also couldn’t throw away the closest thing he had gotten from an adult that was acceptance.
“Does Mr. Singer know?” Julian asked.
Josie shrugged. “I don’t really know him that well. He called you J but used female pronouns when I was talking to him. But who knows? He could have an idea. But I don’t do well reading minds.”
“No one can read minds. If they could, all of this would be a lot easier.”
“What did he say, J?”
“Nothing. Just wants me to write about this. About me. But I’m not special and I don’t know how to be. I don’t want to be. As nice as these campaigns are, as nice as it is being a protester or whatever Maria has cooked up, I don’t want the attention. I’m not special.”
“So you’ve said. But no one is special. Not really. But we still have to do things, and maybe it would be good to talk about all of this. I don’t mind hearing it, but maybe….”
“Maybe my parents should?” Julian suggested, and Josie nodded slowly.
“I know you don’t know what to tell them, but they’ll listen. And if they don’t, then Maria said she’d run away with you.”
Julian laughed again. He put Mr. Singer’s note aside and reread Maria’s. “Maybe. Maybe that’s a good plan B. I told my parents about her, you know. That we’re dating.”
Josie’s eyes lit up. “That’s so great! What did they say?”
“Not much. But they seemed a lot happier that I told them something. They still want to send me to a therapist, though. But maybe that’s not a bad idea. There’s nothing wrong with me, but if I have to make the inside of me match the outside, then I’m going to have to transition. And that involves talking to a therapist.” Julian groaned. He had read about transition for a long, long time now. He knew the steps and the names by heart. And as much as he wanted it, he also wanted to disappear. “I thought telling three people would help me. But I think I feel so much worse now.”
“But you still want it, right?”
Julian nodded.
“Then that should be enough. It is what it is.” Josie smiled. “It really does seem like a crappy answer, but I like it. I can’t always explain something when I first feel it, but I know that an answer is out there. I may not have come across the real thing yet, but I have hope, I guess, that I will.”
“Right. Right.” Julian nodded along, realizing this conversation had probably gone on for far too long. He stayed quiet for a moment, wondering if his mother or father were close by. When he still heard nothing, he sighed. “I think you may have to go soon. I don’t want you to, but….”
“No, no. I get it. I have plans to see Davis tonight, anyway,” Josie added, her smile tipping into complete and utter excitement. Her curls bounced as she packed up her bag, leaving behind the notes and homework.
“That’s great. You two are good?” Julian asked. When she nodded, he congratulated her again. “But speaking of Davis, I have him for Secret Santa. Since it doesn’t look like I’m going to get out of here anytime soon, can I ask you to buy the present for him? I have the cash….”
Julian got up from his bed and moved over to his desk, opening up the drawers to pull out the money he had stored away.
“Oh, of course. Do you know what you want to get him?”
Julian shook his head. “Been kind of busy.”
“I get it. I have an idea, though. For the Ping-Pong table, actually. I saw something really neat that I want to try out. I can give it to him, and he’ll be thrilled.”
Julian smiled as he counted out the money, then handed it to Josie. His heart panged as she took it and folded it away. “I’m going to miss this so much.”
“I know. I’ll take lots of pictures, and maybe send them to you if you have a phone again. There’s always hope.”
“Yeah.”
“And speaking of which, I actually have something for you right now.” Josie smiled again, reaching into the side pocket of her bag. She handed over a notebook with several pens attached to the front, a bow on the corner. “Happy Christmas.”
“You had me?”
Josie nodded. “Yeah. You were easy to shop for once I knew what you liked. So I hope you don’t mind a notebook—maybe it will help for your essays? But also, look inside.”
Julian flipped open the cover to see a small sketch on the first page. When he saw that Josie had drawn a cartoon on the page, Julian half expected to see more dogs or dragons. Instead, a young man stared back at him. His arms were planted akimbo on his hips, posed almost like a superhero, as he stared into the sky. Around his neck was a golden tie over a collared shirt. In the corner of the page, where the man’s attention was drawn, was a sleigh filled with presents—but no Santa to be seen. At the bottom of the page in comic writing were the words, “Julian Gibson seeks out the Santa Hoax. To be continued.”
“That’s me,” Julian said, his eyes tracing back over the drawing of a young man. Not a girl who was dressed like a guy and sometimes ran into the wrong public bathroom.
Not a guy who everyone thought was a girl. But just a guy. Julian Gibson. His name. Him. Me. “You drew me?”
“Of course. I’ve wanted to for a while, and after the incessant theories about Santa and hoaxes you sent me recently, inspiration struck. So, what do you think? How does it feel being slightly immortal?”
“Thank you.” Julian wrapped Josie into a hug, one so tight he’d thought he’d never let her go. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means.”
“Oh, I have an idea. But you’re welcome all the same.”
The hug lasted for several moments longer, Josie not pulling away as Julian hung on.
“I’ll see you around, okay?” Josie said when she finally pulled away. “Take care of yourself until then.”
“Thanks, you too.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
IN THE morning, when Julian awoke, his phone was sitting on his bedside table. He clutched it in his hands right away, only to realize the battery was dead. As he pulled open his desk drawer to find the charger, he noticed his father standing in the doorway.
“Morning, J.”
“Morning.” Julian plugged in the phone, sighing contently as it buzzed to life. It would still need at least twenty minutes before he could use it, and he realized his father was depending on that. Julian looked over at him, still in his own pajamas, with coffee in his hands. “Thank you.”
“No problem. We also let you sleep in today.”
Julian noted the time on the bedside clock. “Thanks. Is everything okay?”
“Yes. We’re just glad you told us about Maria.”
Julian nodded, gazing at his feet. Tiny feet that he wished were bigger for only a moment. “Is that okay?”
“Yes. It’s okay to be gay, Julia. It really doesn’t upset us. Disobeying and keeping secrets does.”
Julian clenched his jaw.
His father sighed, clearly not finished, but not angry or upset either. “I mean, we’ll probably have to sit you down and give you a completely new sex talk since I don’t think your school prepared you at all. And it will be horrible and embarrassing but necessary. Yeah?”
“Oh. God. Dad.”
“See? Super embarrassing, which is really punishment enough.” Damien paused, taking a sip of his coffee before the jovial tone of his voice disappeared. “We also made an appointment for you with a therapist. We can’t go until after Christmas, but we hope it’s enough. Will you go?”
“Yes.”
“You will?”
“Yes,” Julian said, nodding. “I’ll go. I’ll tell you everything. I—need to go.”
Julian expected his father to pry, to ask more questions and completely strip him raw with his vulnerability. But instead he merely nodded and said, “Thank you. I think your mom is making breakfast. You want to come down with me?”
Julian nodded. “Yeah, I really do.”
HE STILL wasn’t allowed to go out that night, but with all the homework he had been given to catch up on, Julian knew he wouldn’t be at a loss for things to do. After his phone had charged and he caught up with those messages as well, he waited for the new ones about the party that night to come in.
So far, only Josie had sent him a picture text of what Davis’s gift looked like, and then his expression as he opened it. Julian clenched his fists and wondered why on earth Maria hadn’t texted him yet. At about eleven, he was finally rewarded for his patience.
Mi novio. You still awake?
Yeah, Julian typed, grasping his phone and putting it on silent before his parents heard. I’m here. What’s up?
Not a lot. Everyone’s been gone now for about an hour, and I’ve been watching this stupid romantic comedy thinking about you.
Oh yeah? What one?
She listed a movie Julian had never heard of before. Even as he put it in IMDb, and it came up as a two-star rating, he still smiled. You like awful movies. Everyone on the Internet agrees.
Oh, quiet. I like awful movies because they’re fun. And for once, I’m actually looking at a heterosexual couple and thinking “Hey, this isn’t that bad. I could do these things with Julian and not feel gross about them.”
I thought you did like guys, though?
Oh, I do. But most guys make me feel gross after about a week. You don’t. You never have.
Julian waited, wondering if he should mention that they had barely been going out for three days, let alone a week. He pulled up the calendar on his computer and saw that in a week, it would be the final Secret Santa party. Maria seemed to sense this because she responded almost the second he realized.
Everyone today missed you. A lot.
Yeah? Well, I missed them.
As Maria went on and filled him in on the details he already knew from Josie but still wanted to hear, Julian flipped open the notebook Josie had gotten him with the drawing inside. On the front cover he had added his full name—Julian Nicholas Gibson—and traced his fingers over it as Maria’s texts came in.
We want to see you for the next party.
I’m trying. I am.
I know you are. But I mean we want to see you, Julian. As Julian. I haven’t told Hannah or Kent or Davis, but I know they’d want to meet you as you.
Julian stared at the text for a long, long time. So long that Maria eventually sent him something else.
You know what I realized tonight? A lot of who we are is based on environment. Location. And the people in that place at that time. Even this terrible movie’s making that point, but you know, I realized this before Lifetime. Just so you know.
Julian’s interest was piqued. Go on.
I mean—look at what you did. You ran into the other bathroom. How did it feel when you went in there?
Good.
What did it look like?
The same mostly, but with urinals. Dirty.
But you wanted to be there?
Julian felt that place inside of him swell. Yeah, I did. It mattered to me, and it helped.
So then we will do whatever we can to make sure it works. All of us.
All of you?
Yes. Maria was quiet for some time. When her texts came in again, they were sporadic and choppy, as if she were still thinking through everything she wanted to say. Remember when we met? I was hanging out with a different crowd then. And they made me a different person. I was angry more.
More than you are now? JK.
Pls be kind to me. I’m having a breakthrough while watching TV, and I’m thrilled by this.
Julian laughed, then typed as much. Sure. I’m listening. Err, reading. Go on.
Well, those friends made me into a different person. And I felt bad about myself all the time. They only saw me as Maria with boobs. All they did was stare at them. So many of the guys I was with were like that. Some of the women too. Everyone just thought I was a body. But I wasn’t. I had thoughts and feelings too, for God’s sake. So what if I couldn’t articulate them well?
You’re doing fine now.
Thank you. I blame Davis for that, actually. When I first met him I thought he was just like everyone else and wanted to make out with me. I told him to screw off. But he kept coming back until we finally saw eye to eye with one another, until I understood what he wanted.
What was that?
English help. Can you believe it? We weren’t in the same class, but he thought I was smart. Oh, the poor boy. But he asked me a zillion questions because he understood nothing, and we eventually got somewhere. And then he stayed, because I think he’s part cat and just follows people until it suits him.
Julian laughed again, thinking of Davis in those terms. Nah, more like a dog. He’s loyal and cuddly.
So I’ve heard from Josie. Anyway. Davis introduced me to Kent, and I had already kind of been seeing Hannah, but then we broke up and stayed friends. And voila, suddenly everything was different. I was happy again. And those guys helped me. I also started to feel better when I was hanging around you.
Good. I feel better around you to
o. Did I thank you for the note? Because the note was great. Julian touched it again, then smelled it, though the faint scent of lavender was gone.
Don’t you get it???? she replied moments later, her tone clearly changed. Not mad but almost exasperated.
Get what?
The people matter just as much as reality. If you feel like a great person, then only hang around with people who reaffirm that. It’s what I did, and my life got better. I still have to deal with my family, but hey, at least I have Josie.
Yeah, she’s great. She already gave me her present, and I love it.
Stop changing the subject, Julian. Come on now, make the connection. You’re smart.
Maria waited, but Julian didn’t respond. He waited until she finally caved to text the rest.
If you feel like a dude, then hang around with people who make you feel that way.
I’m trying, I really am.
Well, I can tell you that these guys will support you. I know they will. They missed you when you weren’t around, and you’ve been trans from the start. They just didn’t know. So if you told them, nothing would change.
You promise that?
Well, no. I can’t predict the future any more than I can read minds. But I know them. They’re not jerks.
Julian’s fingers fumbled against the keys, typing, then erasing, then typing again. When he thought he heard his parents’ door open, he held his breath and waited. One of them went to the bathroom, and Julian waited until the hallway light was out again before responding feebly with, I don’t know what to say.
Be happy. And say yes to the next party. I know you’re still dealing with your parents, but Josie told me things were going well, right? It’s still a week away. You can do a lot in a week.
I know. I’m trying.
Try harder.
Julian sighed, exasperated. This is hard, Maria! They want me to go to therapy. They want me to do so many things. It’s overwhelming. It’s just—
I know it is. Maria’s text cut into the middle of his rant. But do you know what’s harder?
The Santa Hoax Page 19