We watch my parents walk out of the diner.
Aunt Lil looks at me. “I think that went well.”
I laugh, because it’s easier than crying. Aunt Lil waves down the waiter and asks to get my parents’ meals packed up to go. “I can’t believe you came out to them,” I say.
“I couldn’t carry it around anymore. I needed her to know my truth.”
“How do you feel?”
“Better than I thought I would. Like a weight has been lifted.”
I look down, wishing I felt the same. “Guess I’ll be going back to Pennsylvania in the morning.”
“You don’t know that,” she says, eating her salad.
I’m wearing a blouse, a skirt, and a goddamn barrette. “The lengths I will go to for them to love me. I wish they would try to understand me.”
“They will someday. And if they don’t, that’s their loss.”
“I don’t feel that way,” I say.
“Look at me, my boy,” Aunt Lil says. “Look at what you have done for me.”
“Made you come out to your sister and break up with your girlfriend?”
“August, my dear, I have watched you become a better person every day. All that you risk to live authentically, as hard as you have worked, and how bad you want it. I admire that. You’ve made me want to be a better person. No, not better, that’s boring. You’ve made me want to be more me.”
I shake my head, unable to process. I manage to get out a quiet “Thank you.”
“Should we go home and eat all the ice cream in Brooklyn?”
“I think I should go to the after-party. My last hurrah before conversion therapy.”
“August, I will not let that happen.”
“I wish you had control over it,” I say.
“Maybe I do? That’s a tomorrow problem. Have fun at your party. I’m going to Davina’s to win her back. Don’t know if I can.” Aunt Lil signs the bill and stacks up the to-go containers. “But at least I’ll be bringing food.”
“See you later. Midnight on the dot?”
“You can be late tonight. I won’t wait up.”
We stand up and hug. I see Kelsey sitting with her family—smiling and laughing. She has no idea how lucky she is. Aunt Lil leaves, and I head to the bathroom to take this ridiculous costume off my body. If this is my last night here, I’m going to go out with a bang.
10:05 P.M.
THE AFTER-PARTY
My car pulls up in front of a very tall building. Two doormen wait under the awning wearing suits and caps. The building is about a mile away from school—at the bottom of Central Park. The lobby makes my first rich-person party at Riley’s look cheap. Being hedge-fund rich is one thing, being famous rich is another. Everything in the lobby looks expensive—the doors, the art, the couches. There’s a massive fish tank and even the fish look wealthy. As I’m waiting for the doorman to find my name on the list, a man walks by, headed to the elevators with two bodyguards following behind him. I try to get a look but can’t see his face.
The doorman finds my name and sends me on my way to the penthouse. The elevator is all mirrors—impossible not to check myself out and take a quick selfie. I have plenty of time—there are forty-four floors between the ground floor and the penthouse. I broaden my shoulders and try to smile, but it’s not convincing. Will this be my last night as August?
I know what’ll go down with my parents. I can picture it now. My phone will ring early tomorrow. Mom will tell me to pack my things and say goodbye to Aunt Lil. They’ll check out of the hotel and pick me up. The drive will be quiet. Painful. I’ll be leaving behind my dreams. I can’t think about it. Maybe they’ll take me directly to Brand New Day. Maybe they’ll need a few days to arrange it. If they take me home, I’ll make a plan. Run away, or something.
The elevator dings, opening into the living room. My mouth drops open. The apartment is the definition of extra. Really classy, but also over-the-top. The place is filled with oversized furniture, massive paintings, and lots of windows revealing unreal views of the city. There’s an Oscar statuette in a glass box surrounded by movie posters of Justin’s dad. The place is packed with people talking, drinking, dancing. They all seem as starstruck as I am by the opportunity to party in a famous person’s apartment.
“Your coat, sir?” asks a man wearing a white button-up and black tie.
I take off my trench coat and hang it on his arm. “Thanks,” I say, wondering if I’m supposed to tip him.
“Enjoy the party,” he says.
I plan on enjoying myself like there’s no tomorrow. Before I make it to the kitchen for a drink, another man in black tie approaches balancing a tray of drinks. “Champagne?” he asks.
“Don’t mind if I do,” I say, settling into the rich life with ease. I drink the whole thing. The bubbles burn my throat and all the way down to my stomach. I wipe my mouth and ask, “Can I have another?”
“Of course,” he says.
I put the empty glass back on the tray. I don’t know if that’s what you’re supposed to do, but there are no rules tonight. I take another glass and walk in the direction of the living room. Elijah is really going for it on the dance floor. I sip my drink and wait for him to see me.
He spots me mid-head-whip. “Oh my god, August!” He navigates around people—bumping into them—and then jumps over the couch. “My dude!”
We bear hug. I’m going to miss Elijah the most. No, Aunt Lil first. Him second.
“Why are you here?” he asks, his voice slurred.
“It didn’t go well,” I say, holding back tears.
“Shit, dude, want to talk about it?”
“Not really. Tonight, I just want to have fun. Can we do that?”
“Hell yes, we can. I haven’t had the best night,” he says, pointing his head toward the corner, where Anna is sitting close to Duncan on a love seat (how fitting). “They keep kissing. Kissing, August. Kissing. It’s disgusting. I hate watching.”
“So stop watching.”
“I can’t do that.”
“You’re torturing yourself. Why are you doing this?”
He stomps a little, playfully. “I like him. He’s Duncan Stanford and he’s going to be a famous cello player.” He finishes his White Claw, crumples the can, and sets it down on a table. “And because I don’t want her to have him.”
“There it is,” I say, watching another black-tie guy pick up the can and disappear into the crowd.
“What can I say? White Claw brings the truth out—it’s the law of the Claw.”
“Can I be straight with you?” I ask.
“I’m gay, but I can play straight?” he jokes.
“You should use the White Claw honesty and tell Anna the truth. Or end it with him.” I hesitate, wondering how much more to say. But tonight is my grand finale, and I owe it to Anna to say something. “This love triangle is going to really hurt her. Have you thought of that?”
He scoffs. “I’m not lying to her.”
“Not telling her is lying to her,” I say.
“And you’re one to talk?”
I look down, ashamed. “It’s different. But yes, I’m telling you from experience that this will not end well.”
“It went that bad tonight?”
“Worse than bad. Kelsey showed up and blew my cover.”
“Kelsey saw you wearing that outfit?”
I never showed Elijah what I was going to wear, just told him about it. “Afraid so.”
“Shit,” he says. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“I don’t want to think about it, really. Matter of fact, I need another drink. Want to head to the kitchen?”
Elijah finds the beat. “Get your drink, my boy.” His dancing gets bigger. “The dance floor’s calling my name.”
I do the rounds and make sure to talk to everyone from the cast and crew. I hug them like it’s the last one. Give them compliments like I’ll never see them again. And say goodbye like it might be forever.
Meen
a is having the time of her life—dancing with some band people. “Hey,” I say to her, trying to dance beside her. “I think you’re the coolest person in the room.”
She stops dancing. “How drunk are you?”
I shake my head. “I just wanted you to know.”
“Drink some water,” she says, then gets back to dancing.
Justin and Tess are holding court with people circling them. What would it be like to be Justin, even for a day, and live in this place with a famous dad? He must have it so easy. Not a worry in the world.
When I get to the kitchen, there’s a black-tie girl tending bar. I ask for a beer—too nervous to order a drink. I twist off the bottle top and hear, “Hey.” I turn around to find Yazmin holding a pink water gun. She squirts me a couple of times in the chest. “Got you.”
Assassins. Of course. Yazmin drew my name. “You got me,” I say, putting my hands up.
“Do I?”
“Not anymore,” I say, earning another squirt from her water gun. She’s wearing a shiny black dress with her hair in a tight bun. “You look incredible.”
“Who, me?” She spins around. “Auggie, no joke, your Rizzo was amazing. They were right to cast you. You blew me away.”
I lean against the counter. “I’m sorry I didn’t go for Kenickie,” I say. After everything that happened tonight, maybe I should have.
Yaz waves me off. “No, you do you. This whole thing made me realize I want to focus on TV and movies.”
I nod. “I could see that.”
“My boyfriend thinks that will be the best move.”
I wait for jealousy to wash over me, but it doesn’t. Maybe because my parents will be taking me back tomorrow. Or maybe I’m over my crush. “I’m glad we are friends,” I say, smiling.
She nods. “Me too, Auggie. You’re a cool guy.”
“And you’re really special. I know you’ll buy that house for your family someday.”
“You’re so sweet,” she says, then hugs me.
Elijah appears behind us. “There you are,” he says, out of breath. “Come dance with me. I demand it!”
I look at Yaz. “Go do that,” she says.
“Bye, Yaz,” I say, acknowledging this might be my last time to see her. Elijah nearly drags me back into the living room. I’ve never really danced at a party, but tonight, I go for it. I move around, somewhere near the beat, as the champagne makes everything feel all right. My arms feel light, this moment feels light, I have so much darkness ahead, but this moment is all light.
I dance until my hair feels a bit sweaty. I leave Elijah in the middle of a dance-off with Jamaal. I find a couch and check my email, wondering if there will be something about Conversion. Or maybe the producers will call? I wish Mr. Daniels had never told me. When I’m forced home tomorrow, I would have had no idea. Now I’ll always wonder what could have happened. I was right—ignorance is bliss.
“August?”
I look up and see Maggie. She’s wearing a black turtleneck with a gold chain and jeans. Her hair is parted in the middle. “Hey,” I say.
“You made it after all. Your family thing end early?”
I pocket my phone. “You could say that. And I wanted to see you.”
“Me?” she asks, blushing a little.
“Want to have a seat?” I ask, extending my hand to the sofa.
“I’m actually heading home. I need to be up early. I work at a guitar shop on the weekends.”
“Oh, just in case you needed to be any cooler,” I joke, trying to hide that I’m completely bummed she’s leaving. Maybe if I tell her this is my last night here, she’ll stay.
“Maybe you’d like to walk me home?”
I look around. The party is dwindling down. “It would be an honor.”
Maggie takes my hand and we walk directly to the elevator, unseen by most people—too busy dancing, and singing, and making out. I spot Elijah talking and gesturing excitedly. The black-tie guy hands me my trench coat, which gets a laugh from Maggie. I snap a few pictures of us in the mirrored elevator. They will be good memories of my time in New York.
It’s cold but not freezing. It’s hand-in-your-pocket weather but not time for gloves. “You live close?”
“No, I’m making you walk me to Brooklyn,” she jokes.
“I would,” I say. “But I also live there.”
We pass by a man walking three dogs the size of small horses. Maggie tells me about her mom, who works on Wall Street, and her cat that sleeps in her guitar case. She tells me about growing up in New York, and I could listen to her talk forever. “Want to play a game?” I suggest.
“Sure,” she says.
“Quick-fire questions. I ask, you answer,” I say, borrowing Anna’s game.
“I’m ready.”
I think fast. “Favorite color?”
She laughs. “Are we ten years old?”
“Okay, dream college?”
“Smith.”
Never heard of it. “Dream stage to play on?”
“Grand Ole Opry in Nashville.”
“Do you like me?” I ask, feeling bold.
Maggie stops walking. Looks at me. “I don’t know.”
“What do you not know?” I ask.
“You’re always putting a little act on. I promise it’s cute, but I see through it.”
“What do you see?” I ask, curious.
She thinks. “I see a nice guy with a good heart. But he’s also good at acting. Always putting on a show.”
“I’m not putting on a show,” I say.
“I like you without the show.”
“I like you, too.”
“Then drop the act.”
“I’m an actor—this is who I am.”
We walk in silence. I like Maggie. I feel good around her. I want to tell her everything, but what does it matter now? This is my last night here. I don’t want her feeling sorry for me.
She stops. “This is me.”
I look up at the building, six stories high and old-fashioned, a very New York apartment building. A shiver moves through my body.
“August, when you’re ready to be real, give me a call.”
I watch her walk up the stoop steps and unlock the door, hoping she will look back. When she doesn’t, I feel cold and alone.
Eighteen
Saturday, October 19
8:10 A.M.
Panic and regret hit as soon as I open my eyes. Yesterday rushes back to me. I should have picked a different restaurant. My stomach turns and my head throbs from the champagne. Today is not going to be a good day.
I need water. Lots of it. Aunt Lil is at the kitchen table, sipping coffee while reading the newspaper. “Good morning, sweet boy. How was your night?”
“I said my goodbyes.”
“This isn’t the end.”
“Did you make up with Davina?” I ask, pouring a glass of water.
Aunt Lil shushes me and whispers, “She’s sleeping.”
I’m happy they made up. She starts collecting her things like she’s leaving. “You going somewhere?” I ask.
Aunt Lil exhales loudly. “I can’t stop thinking about last night. I’ve decided that our conversation with your parents isn’t done. We need to go up to Times Square, knock on their hotel door, and demand to talk to them.”
“Go there? They will force me back to Pennsylvania.”
She grabs her keys off the hook. “If they want you to go back with them, then we’ll deal with that. But for now, let’s show up. Maybe they are enjoying the free hotel buffet or whatever. We need to talk to them. We can convince them.”
I’m unsure about this approach. My parents aren’t big on confrontation. But my aunt is so confident. Hope creeps in. I won’t be alone. No more lies. Everything on the table. “I’ll go change,” I say, and head upstairs.
Minutes later, with my hair messy and no shower, wearing a black hoodie and blue jeans, I get into my aunt’s truck. “Why aren’t we taking the subway?” My aunt usua
lly doesn’t drive in the city.
“I’m too nervous. I need to keep my hands busy and mind distracted.”
“This sounds dangerous,” I say, buckling up.
As we cross the Brooklyn Bridge, she tells me stories of her first years in New York. I’m not really listening, too busy running scenarios of how this will go down. The closer we get, the more tense I become. It’s almost nine; Mom will be up and about. Maybe we can catch her in the lobby and talk alone. That could help our case.
We descend into the underbelly of the hotel’s parking garage. It’s dark. Empty. Aunt Lil kills the engine and doesn’t move. “August, are we making a mistake?”
I look at her, surprised. “I don’t know. You’re the adult here.”
“I’ve been avoiding this confrontation all my life,” she says.
“I’ve tried to have this confrontation and failed,” I admit.
“This is a fool’s errand, and we are two fools. I’ve lived too long scared of my sister knowing I’m a lesbian. I’ve kept her in my life by keeping her out of my life. She loves her version of me, not the real me. And I have paid for it without even realizing.”
“You’re brave,” I say.
Aunt Lil smiles big. “I learned it by watching you.”
“I don’t feel brave,” I admit.
“Bravery isn’t not being afraid—it’s doing what you need to despite the fear. So, let’s put brave pants on and go.”
“You’ve always been my favorite aunt.”
She laughs. Pinches my cheek. “Mark my words, they will not take you to conversion therapy. I’ll sell all my paintings to pay for lawyers.”
I nod and get out of the car wearing my invisible brave pants.
The hotel lobby is packed with tourists. I scan the crowd looking for Mom’s curly hair. Or Randy’s mustache. Aunt Lil talks to a man behind the concierge desk. His head is down, typing away on a computer. Her movements get more animated. A minute later, she puts her hands on my shoulders. “They checked out last night.”
“Last night?”
My mind swirls. They left without saying come back, or stay here, or even goodbye. My body goes limp. Aunt Lil tightens her grip on me. “Do you need to sit down?” she asks. “You’re going pale.”
Act Cool Page 19
