Boy Queen

by George Lester

  As I pack my stuff up at the end of psychology, Natalie puts a finger to her lips and shushes, dramatically winking at me before I leave. I blow her a kiss before I run outside and meet Seth, jumping into his car.

  ‘You ready?’ he asks. ‘Last chance to change your mind. The second we’re off school property we’re technically playing hookie.’

  I take a deep breath. How much do I really want this? Enough. ‘Drive.’

  TWENTY-THREE

  ‘Wait, you need to go back. Kaye wanted you to do what?’ Greg asks, his eyes wide, his mouth agape.

  ‘It’s called tucking,’ I say.

  ‘It already sounds painful.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t exactly a barrel of laughs,’ I reply.

  On Saturday afternoon, I had to get myself out of the house. All I’d had from Mum was silence and I just couldn’t take it any more. So Greg and I headed over to Natalie’s and I tried to explain the concept of tucking . . . badly.

  ‘So how do you . . . ? I mean, what do you . . . ? Does it even . . . ?’ Greg is squirming, crossing and uncrossing his legs as if I’ve just asked him to do it.

  ‘There are a lot of ways to tuck and basically I wasn’t about to put tape on my dick so we needed to find another way and the way we found was . . . . better,’ I say. ‘I mean it’s not the most comfortable thing in the world, but the feeling goes away after a while. And you only start to feel the pain again when you know you’re getting out of drag.’

  ‘So you’ve tucked?’ Natalie asks. ‘You’ve actually done it?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I said a prayer to our dear lord and saviour Britney, shoved my balls up inside my body, pulled on a pair of tucking pants and . . . well . . . that’s probably way too much information.’

  ‘I’ve just heard way more than I ever want to hear about your balls,’ Greg says. ‘No offence.’

  ‘Well, you did ask,’ I reply, laughing.

  I hated that I couldn’t stay to watch Dragcellence. Pristine and The Duchess sent me videos of the guest performers they had (a queen called Angela Mansbury who did a full Mrs Potts routine and Dory Ann Slay, a slam poet who tore the roof off the place), but it just wasn’t the same.

  ‘Subject change?’ I request. My phone buzzes. Seth asking what I’m up to. I quickly reply and put my phone back down, ignoring the messages from Connor sitting unread in my inbox.

  ‘How is uni stuff going?’ Greg asks Nat. Nat looks suddenly uncomfortable.

  ‘Nat, I’m honestly fine. You can talk about uni – I’m not going to fall apart, I swear.’ I’ve been trying my hardest not to think about LAPA and my drama-school prospects. The focus has been so much on Dragcellence, and the fact that I’m performing, that it slips to the back of my head. Which is where it needs to stay until application season comes around again and I go into a stress-induced panic. If I even decide to apply again.

  ‘This isn’t about that,’ she says. ‘I’m . . . I’m sort of . . . God, why is this so hard to say?’

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I’m reassessing my options,’ she says, sounding a little bit like Mrs Finch.

  ‘What do you mean? You’re still going to Queen Mary, right?’ I say.

  ‘Well . . .’ She trails off and looks away. And now I’m confused because that had always been the plan. For three years it had been the plan. She would go to Queen Mary and I would go to LAPA. They were the dream schools. They always have been.

  ‘What? It’s the dream, what’s changed?’

  ‘You.’

  And now I’m looking at her like she’s out of her mind.

  ‘Come on, Robin, you know why I picked Queen Mary,’ she says.

  ‘Because you wanted to go there.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘But, also, no. It was because I thought we were going to be near one another, and we could live together. Durham is—’

  ‘Durham? I thought that was where your dad wanted you to go,’ I say. ‘You always hated the idea of—’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ she says. ‘Maybe then, but it’s a really good school. And, yeah, Dad has bored me to pieces about it, but maybe if I’d had a chance to really think about my options—’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Come on, Robin, I don’t want to fight about this, but you bulldozed me with your ideas of us being together next year, and now that we’re not I get to do what I want to do.’

  ‘Oh.’ Guilt crashes over me like a wave. ‘I never meant to—’

  ‘I’m not trying to make you feel bad, OK? It’s just that I need to think about me now,’ she says. ‘I need to think of my own plan. I don’t even know what you’re doing next week, let alone next year.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Robin. You’re just off doing a different thing and that’s great because you’re happy, but I need to know that I’m making the right choice for me.’

  ‘I thought you wanted to go to Queen Mary. I thought you wanted to be together next year,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry for being such a burden.’

  ‘Guys, don’t do this,’ Greg says.

  ‘Christ, trust you to make this dramatic and all about you, Robin,’ Natalie says.

  ‘I’m not. I just didn’t realize that me being a failure was such a freeing experience for you.’

  ‘Oh for fuck’s sake.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Not everything revolves around you,’ Natalie barks.

  ‘Maybe my failure is the best thing that happened to you, huh?’

  ‘You know what? Maybe it is!’ Natalie says. ‘Maybe you not being good enough to get into the top uni in the country is great, because I did. And I’m glad you haven’t because it means I can go and do that without hurting your precious feelings. I’m free to do what I want.’

  My phone buzzes at my side, and I see it’s another message from Seth.

  ‘Proving my point,’ Natalie says, going back to her work.

  A silence engulfs us and it isn’t long before I’m making my excuses and leaving, Greg following close behind, running out into the street to catch up with me.

  What she’s saying makes absolute sense, but there’s something else buried in it and I can feel it gnawing at my soul. Everything is changing. I hate that.

  ‘So she hates me,’ I say as Greg catches up. ‘Have I been that awful? I’m sorry Greg, I—’

  ‘She doesn’t hate you. She’s just figuring things out. And now the drag thing is happening and she feels like you’re off doing your own thing and she doesn’t matter so much.’

  ‘But she does matter,’ I say. ‘She matters the most. God, I’m such a dick.’

  ‘Nah,’ he says. ‘You’re just going through your own stuff. Getting rejected from LAPA was really freaking hard for you so you’re, I don’t know, I guess you’re so distracted by the drag stuff that it can come off that you don’t care as much, which I know isn’t true, but I’m just saying it, OK?’

  I sigh. ‘OK. It’s the performance, though.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘It means a lot to get that slot in Dragcellence,’ I say. ‘It could be big and I really want it to go well. We don’t have a lot of time and . . . I’m scared of failing again.’

  ‘I get that,’ Greg says. ‘I really do. Just be careful with Natalie. I think she feels like she’s losing you to this.’

  ‘She’s not. It’s just—’

  ‘Where your focus is right now – I know,’ he says. ‘But be careful.’

  ‘I just need it to work,’ I say. ‘Like . . . God, I hate that I’m putting pressure on it, but if this goes well it could stop next year feeling so shit after you all leave.’

  We walk a little further in silence, me pushing my bike, Greg wandering along beside me.

  ‘You know,’ he says, ‘we’ll actually be close to each other next year.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I changed my mind for next year,’ he says. ‘Stuff isn’t great at home and, well,
Southford is as good a uni as Edinburgh for maths and this way I get to stay with Archie . . .’ He trails off. ‘So, you know, you won’t be totally without friends or whatever. It won’t be shit. I’ll still be here.’

  I stop and put my bike on the ground, wrapping my arms round Greg. He tenses up a little at first, but quickly returns the hug.

  ‘What’s this for?’ he asks.

  ‘For being a friend,’ I reply.

  On Monday morning, Seth is waiting for me at the bike sheds and it makes me want to die. His face bursts into a smile when he sees me and I hop off my bike and hug him. It feels right to be with him again. The weekend without him was borderline unbearable.

  ‘Good weekend?’ he asks.

  ‘Horrible,’ I say. ‘I’m messing everything up.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Natalie this time,’ I say. ‘We got into a fight.’

  ‘So fix it.’

  I laugh. ‘Wow, didn’t think of that. Thanks, Seth.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  I shake my head. ‘Not really. I’ll figure it out, I guess. How was yours?’

  ‘Fine,’ he says. ‘I had stupid amounts of homework to do. And I had this guy messaging me all weekend, couldn’t shake him off no matter how hard I tried.’

  ‘Why do I get the feeling you didn’t try as hard as you think you did?’ I say, nudging him as we walk. I take a moment. ‘It wasn’t too much, was it? If you want me to stop messaging or you’re busy or—’

  He grabs my hand and it stops me dead. ‘You’re OK,’ he says. ‘The messaging was fun. It’s not like I had anything better to do.’

  ‘Oh, the compliments,’ I say. ‘My cup runneth over.’

  ‘God, why do you get me all tongue-tied?’ he says. ‘I just mean that . . . like I . . .’ It’s weird seeing him flustered. Seth doesn’t do flustered, Seth does effortlessly cool Danny Zuko realness and this side of him is . . . interesting. And fifty shades of adorable. ‘I liked messaging you. Please keep doing it.’

  ‘Noted.’

  As we walk towards school, I notice Connor looking over at me from his pack of friends. I can see that he wants to approach, I can see it in the way that he looks at me, but we both know that he won’t because it’s too much of a risk to try to talk to me out in the open.

  ‘What are you doing with Kaye today?’ Seth asks conspiratorially. When we saw Kaye on Friday we established when the best times were for us to come to Entity. At the time I felt really good about it, but after what happened with Natalie it feels like it’s not such a good idea.

  ‘Look, Seth, I know you offered and I really appreciate it, but—’

  ‘OK,’ he says. ‘So we can meet out here at twelve, yeah?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I reply. I can’t say no. Not to Seth nor to this opportunity. I have to take it.

  ‘What’s up?’ he asks as we walk into school.

  ‘Am I doing the right thing?’ I ask. ‘Am I becoming too obsessed?’

  ‘Where is this coming from?’ he asks.

  ‘The fight with Natalie . . .’ I say. ‘Part of it was that I am ditching everything for drag right now. And I feel bad. Like I’m being selfish.’

  Seth shrugs. ‘Maybe you need to be selfish this time,’ he says. ‘You’re not just doing this for fun – this could be your career.’ He checks the time. ‘Come on, we’re late. If you don’t want to go, Robin, we don’t—’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘No, I’ll see you at twelve.’

  Natalie spends the morning being pissed at me for what happened on Saturday no matter what I do or say to try to smooth things over. She’s even more annoyed when I walk out of a free period to head off to Entity. But she doesn’t say anything.

  The week continues like this; I take every opportunity I get to be driven off to Southford by Seth, learn something off Kaye and then rush back to school for class. On Tuesday, we try different dresses, some where I’m tucked, some where I’m not, to see what works for my body shape. On Thursday, Kaye has a few of her Dragcellence family members show me what they do, how they perform, giving me ideas. If Seth isn’t free, I’m off in one of the dance studios at school, practising in a pair of heels. Priya has been sending me videos from the classes, new combinations to learn. Along with those I repeat exercises I’ve done in my dance classes at school, praying no one walks in and catches me.

  By the time the weekend arrives again, I’ve spent three out of the past five days with Kaye and I’ve only really seen Natalie and Greg at lunch or during classes, which makes me feel like a bad friend. Greg is trying to be as supportive as he can, but I can see it in Natalie’s eyes when she forces herself to say ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’ to me. But it’s my choice, isn’t it? The show is in a week and I don’t feel anywhere close to ready. This could be a chance to actually do something next year, to perform and get paid for it rather than waiting for my next opportunity to come along. I have to do it.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Sunday night rolls around and I’ve spent the day in my room, catching up on work, watching drag on my computer and texting Seth. Things with Mum are improving. She doesn’t know I’ve been going to Entity, so she doesn’t hate me so much any more. We’re just not talking like we used to. There’s a barrier there and I don’t know if it’s her or me.

  I’m about to go down for dinner before Mum heads off to work when my phone buzzes. I half expect it to be Seth again, but it’s a name I’ve not seen for a while.

  Connor.

  I’m outside. Please talk to me.

  There is a burning in my chest. He can’t be outside right now, not while Mum is here. It’s too much.

  Mum is in. I can’t. Tomorrow?

  The three dots appear so quickly that I know if I looked out of the window right now his face would be lit up in the dark by his phone.

  You won’t talk to me tomorrow.

  Please. You can’t keep doing this.

  I know he won’t go away. And there is a part of me that is curious about what he thinks he can say that will make this situation any better.

  I sneak downstairs, past Mum in the kitchen preparing dinner. I close the door to the hallway and open the front door. He’s right there, looking so unbelievably crushed that a wave of guilt threatens to drag me under.

  ‘Hello,’ he says, like it’s the heaviest word in the world.

  ‘Look, Connor, you can’t be here right now,’ I say. ‘My mum is in and you know she doesn’t know about us so . . .’

  ‘What us?’ he says. ‘I’ve not spoken to you in ages and . . . I miss you.’

  ‘OK,’ I say. I hear the Natalie voice in my head, the one that tells me to end it, the one that tells me to get him off my doorstep and to never come back. ‘But what you said to me, Connor, it—’

  ‘It was only because Ryan was there and—’

  ‘No, Connor,’ I say. ‘You were there when it happened last time and you were about to let it happen again. That really hurt me and . . . I’m not going to keep doing this. It hurts me too much. I care about you, I do, but for my own sanity I just have to stop this.’

  ‘Is this because of Seth?’

  ‘Seth?’

  ‘The one you keep getting driven around by,’ he says.

  ‘This has nothing to do with him,’ I say. And I mean it. Even without Seth, I know that this is what I need to do. ‘I’m doing this for me.’

  ‘Robin, don’t do this,’ he says, and he looks like he might cry, which makes me feel like some kind of monster. ‘You can’t, Robin, I need you. We can work this out . . .’

  ‘Connor, no,’ I say.

  ‘Let’s talk about it,’ he says. ‘Come on.’ He reaches his hand out to me and it takes every little bit of willpower in my body not to take it and run out into the night in my pyjama shorts with no shoes on. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘I can’t,’ I say, though what I really mean is that I don’t want to. And there is something at least a tiny bit freeing in that.

  ‘Robin,
are you at the door?’ Mum calls. I can hear her approaching. Connor looks torn. He doesn’t know whether it’s worse to face my mum or to give up on this entirely.

  ‘Connor, she’s coming to the door,’ I say. ‘Just go. You don’t want to do this.’

  ‘I do, Robin, please.’

  ‘I don’t have anything else to say,’ I say. ‘I can’t be with you any more, Connor. So you don’t have to do this. Just go and—’

  He reaches forward and grabs hold of my wrist. ‘Come on, Robin, just come for a walk with me. After everything we’ve been through, you can’t just—’

  Mum opens the door to the hallway and stares daggers at me. She looks at Connor’s hand wrapped round my wrist, at the tears blooming in my eyes.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asks.

  ‘Connor was just leaving,’ I say, trying to pull my wrist free. His grip is tight. He won’t let go.

  ‘No, I’m not. We’re just talking.’

  ‘This doesn’t look much like talking,’ Mum says, her voice firm. Suddenly she seems worried, and I don’t blame her; this doesn’t exactly scream ‘healthy relationship’. ‘What’s your name? Connor?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Will you let go of my son, please?’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Oh, believe me, Connor, that wasn’t a request.’ Connor can’t see the signs because he’s known my mother for all of two seconds, but she is about to unleash some kind of horror on him like none he has ever seen before. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll run fast and run far. ‘Either you let go of my son, or I will make you let go.’

  He releases my wrist and takes a step back. ‘Robin, please, I just—’

  Mum steps in front of me. ‘I think the conversation was over some time ago, Connor,’ she says. ‘Now run along.’

  ‘Mrs Cooper, please, I—’

  ‘Connor,’ she says. ‘Go.’

  He peers around her to look at me, but I can barely bring myself to meet his gaze. My eyes are full of tears and he is just a blur at this point. But I see him walk away and I see Mum close the door and, without even thinking about it, I sink to the floor.