and i think: no.
seriously. no.
because i have spent my life falling. not the kind that tiny’s talking about. he’s talking about love. i’m talking about life. in my kind of falling, there’s no landing. there’s only hitting the ground. hard. dead, or wanting to be dead. so the whole time you’re falling, it’s the worst feeling in the world. because you feel you have no control over it. because you know how it ends.
i don’t want to fall. all i want to do is stand on solid ground.
and the weird thing is, i feel like i’m doing that now. because i am trying to do something good. in the same way that tiny is trying to do something good.
tiny: you’re still a pinless grenade over the world not being perfect.
no, i am a pinless grenade over the world being cruel. but every time i’m proven wrong, that pin goes in a little more.
tiny: and i’m still - every time this happens to me, everytime i land, it still hurts like it has never happened before.
he’s swinging higher now, kicking his legs hard, the swing set groaning. it looks like he’s going to bring the whole contraption down, but he just keeps pumping his legs and pulling against the chain with his arms and talking.
tiny: because we can’t stop the weltschmerz. we can’t stop imagining the world as it might be. which is awesome! it is my favorite thing about us!
when he gets to the top of his arc now, he’s above the reach of the lights, screaming down at the audience from the darkness. then he swings back into view, his back and ass rushing toward us in the audience.
tiny: and if you’re gonna have that, you’re gonna have falling. they don’t call it rising in love. that’s why i love us!
at the top of the arc, above the lights, he kicks out of the swing. he is so goddamned nimble and quick about it, i can barely see it, but he lifts himself up by the arms and pulls his legs up and then just lets go and grabs onto a rafter. the swing falls before he does, and everyone - the audience, the chorus - gasps.
tiny: because we know what will happen when we fall!
the answer to this is, of course, that we will crash right on our ass. which is exactly what tiny does. he lets go of the rafters, crashes down right in front of the swing set, and collapses in a heap. i flinch, and gideon grabs my hand.
i can’t tell whether the kid playing me is supposed to be in character or out of character when he asks tiny if he’s all right. whatever the case, tiny waves the imitation me away, motions to the conductor, and a moment later, it starts - a quiet song, all piano keys spaced far apart. tiny recovers his breath during the intro and starts to sing again.
tiny:
it’s all about falling
you land and get up so you can fall again
it’s all about falling
i won’t be afraid to hit that wall again
it’s chaos up there. the chorus is desperately clinging to the chorus. they keep singing how it’s about the falling, and then tiny steps forward and says his lines over them.
tiny: maybe tonight you’re scared of falling, and maybe there’s somebody here or somewhere else you’re thinking about, worrying over, fretting over, trying to figure out if you want to fall, or how and when you’re gonna land, and i gotta tell you friends that to stop thinking about the landing, because it’s all about falling.
it’s incredible. it’s like he’s lifting off the stage, he believes in his words so strongly. and i realize what it is that i have to do. i have to help him realize that it’s the belief, not the words, that mean everything. i have to make him realize the point isn’t the falling. it’s the floating.
tiny calls for them to bring up the houselights. he’s looking around, but he doesn’t see me.
i gulp.
gideon: ready?
the answer to this question is always going to be no. but i have to do it anyway.
tiny: maybe there is something you’re afraid to say, or someone you’re afraid to love, or somewhere you’re afraid to go. it’s gonna hurt. it’s gonna hurt because it matters.
no, i think. NO.
it doesn’t have to hurt.
i stand up. and then i almost sit down again. it is taking all of my strength to stand up.
i look at gideon.
tiny: but i just fell and landed and i am still standing here to tell you that you’ve gotta learn to love the falling, because it’s all about falling.
i reach out my pinkie. gideon takes it in his.
tiny: just fall for once. let yourself fall!
the whole cast is on the stage now. i see that the other will grayson has snuck on, too, and he’s wearing these wrinkled jeans and a plaid shirt. right next to him is a girl who must be jane, wearing this shirt that says I’m with Phil Wrayson.
tiny makes a gesture, and suddenly everyone onstage is singing.
chorus: hold me closer, hold me closer
and i’m still standing. i’m making eye contact with the other will grayson, who looks nervous but smiles anyway. and i’m seeing a few people nod in my direction. god, i hope they’re who i want them to be.
suddenly, with a grand wave of his arms, tiny stops the music. he moves to the front of the stage and the rest of the stage goes dark. it’s just him in a spotlight, looking out into the audience. he just stands there for a moment, taking it all in. and then he closes the show by saying:
tiny: my name is tiny cooper. and this is my story.
there’s a silence then. people are waiting for the curtain to go down, for the show to definitely be over, for the ovations to start. i have less than a second. i squeeze gideon’s pinkie tight, then let go. i raise my hand.
tiny sees me.
other people in the audience see me.
i yell
me: TINY COOPER!
and that’s it.
i really hope this is going to work.
me: my name is will grayson. and i appreciate you, tiny cooper!
now everyone’s looking at me, and many of them are confused. they have no idea whether this is still part of the show.
what can i say? i’m giving it a new ending.
now this twentysomething-year-old man in a hipster vest stands up. he looks to me for a second, smiles, then turns to tiny and says
man: my name is also will grayson. i live in wilmette. and i also appreciate you, tiny cooper. cue the seventy-nine-year-old in the back row.
old guy: my name is william t. grayson, but you can call me will. and i sure as heck appreciate you, tiny cooper.
thank you, google. thank you, internet telephone directories. thank you, keepers of the name.
fortysomething woman: hi! i’m wilma grayson, from hyde park. and i appreciate you, tiny cooper.
ten-year-old boy: hey. i’m will grayson. the fourth. my dad couldn’t be here, but we both appreciate you, tiny cooper.
there should be one other. a sophomore at northwestern.
there’s a dramatic pause. everyone’s looking around.
and then HE stands up. if frenchy’s could bottle him up and sell him as porn, they’d probably own half of chicago within a year. he’s what would happen after nine months if abercrombie fucked fitch. he’s like a movie star, an olympic swimmer, and america’s next top male model all at once. he’s wearing a silver shirt and pink pants. everything about him sparkles.
not my type at all. but . . .
Gay God: my name is will grayson. and i love you, tiny cooper.
finally, tiny, who’s been uncharacteristically speechless the whole time, gets out some words.
tiny: 847-555-3982
Gay God: 847-555-7363
tiny: WILL SOMEONE PLEASE WRITE THAT DOWN FOR ME?
half the audience nods.
and then it’s quiet again. in fact, it’s a little awkward. i don’t know whether to sit down or what.
then there’s a rustling from the dark part of the stage. the other will grayson walks out of the chorus. he walks right up to tiny and looks him in
the eye.
o.w.g.: you know my name. and i love you, tiny cooper. although not in the same way that the guy in the pink pants might love you.
and then the girl who must be jane chimes in.
girl: my name is not will grayson, and i appreciate you a helluva lot, tiny cooper.
it’s the strangest thing ever. one by one, everyone onstage tells tiny cooper they appreciate him. (even the guy named phil wrayson - what are the odds?) then the audience gets into the act. row by row. some say it. some sing it. tiny’s crying. i’m crying. everyone’s crying.
i lose track of how long it takes. then, when it’s all over, the applause starts. the loudest applause you’ve ever heard.
tiny steps to the front of the stage. people throw flowers.
he’s brought us all together. we all feel that.
gideon: you did good.
i link our pinkies again.
me: yeah, we did good.
i nod to the other will grayson, up onstage. he nods to me. we have something between us, him and me.
but the truth?
everybody has it.
that’s our curse and our blessing. that’s our trial and our error and our it.
the applause continues. i look up at tiny cooper.
he may be heavy, but right now he floats.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:
a cognizant v5 release september 06 2010
We acknowledge that Jodi Reamer is a kickass agent, and furthermore acknowledge that she could beat both of us at once at arm-wrestling.
We acknowledge that picking your friend’s nose is a personal choice, and may not be suitable with all personalities.
We acknowledge that this book probably wouldn’t exist if Sarah Urist Green hadn’t laughed out loud when we read the first two chapters to her a long time ago in an apartment far, far away.
We acknowledge that we were a little disappointed to learn that the Penguin clothing brand is in no way related to the Penguin publishling company, because we were hoping for a discount on smart polo shirts.
We acknowledge the unadulterated fabulousness of Bill Ott, Steffie Zvirin, and John’s fairy godmother, Ilene Cooper.
We acknowledge that in the same way that you could never see the moon if it wasn’t for the sun, there’s no way you’d ever get to see us if it wasn’t for the magnificent and continual brightness of our author friends.
We acknowledge that one of us cheated on the SATs, but he didn’t mean to.
We acknowledge that nerdfighters are made of awesome.
We acknowledge that being the person God made you cannot separate you from God’s love.
We acknowledge that we timed the completion of this book in order to persuade our masterful editor, Julie Strauss-Gabel, to name her child Will Grayson, even if it’s a girl. Which is somewhat disingenuous, because we should probably be the ones naming babies after her. Even if they’re boys.
John Green & David Levithan Page 25