me: i hadn’t even thought of that.
gideon: most guys will drive over an hour for sex. but only a few will drive over an hour just to see you.
me: how do you know this?
it’s sort of strange that gideon’s become my go-to gay guy, since he’s told me the most play he’s ever gotten was at boy scout camp the summer before ninth grade. but i guess he’s been to enough blogs and chat rooms and things. oh, and he watches hbo-on-demand all the time. i am constantly telling him that i’m not sure the laws of sex and the city apply when there’s no sex and there’s no city, but then he looks at me like i’m throwing spiked darts at the heart-shaped helium balloons that populate his mind, so i let it go.
the funny thing is that most of the school - well, the part that cares, which is not that huge - thinks gideon and i are a couple. because, you know, they see gay me walking in the halls with gay him, and they immediately assume.
i will say this, though - i kind-of don’t mind it. because gideon is really cute, and really friendly, and the people who don’t beat him up seem to like him a lot. so if i’m going to have a hypothetical boyfriend in this school, i could do much worse.
still, it’s weird to think of gideon and tiny finally meeting. it’s weird to think of tiny walking the halls with me. it’s like inviting godzilla to the prom.
i can’t picture it . . . but then i get a text that he’s two minutes away, and i have to face facts.
i basically just leave mr. jones’s physics class in the middle of a lab - he never really notices me, anyway, so as long as my lab partner, lizzie, covers for me, i’m set. i tell lizzie the truth - that my boyfriend is sneaking into the school to meet me - and she becomes my accomplice, because even if she wouldn’t ordinarily do it for me, she’ll definitely do it for LOVE. (well, LOVE and gay rights - three cheers for straight girls who max out on helping gay guys.)
the only person who gives me grief is maura, who snorts out a black cloud when i explain my story to lizzie. she’s been trying to fuck up my silent treatment by eavesdropping on me whenever she can. i don’t know whether the snort is because she thinks i’m making it up or because she’s disgusted that i’m mistreating my physics lab. or maybe she’s just jealous of lizzie, which is funny because lizzie has acne so bad that it looks like bee stings. but whatever. maura can snort until all the brain-mucus has left her head and pooled at her feet. i will not respond.
i find tiny easily enough in front of the school, shifting from foot to foot. i am not about to start making out with him on school grounds, so i give him a guy-hug (two points of contact! only two!) and tell him that if anyone asks, he should say he’s moving to town in the fall and is checking out the school ahead of time. he’s a little different than when i last saw him - tired, i guess. otherwise, though, his mental health seems perfectly fine.
tiny: so this is where the magic happens?
me: only if you consider blind enslavement to standardized tests and college applications to be a form of magic.
tiny: it remains to be seen.
me: how’s the play going?
tiny: what the chorus lacks in voice, it makes up for in energy.
me: i can’t wait to see it.
tiny: i can’t wait for you to see it.
the bell for lunch rings when we’re halfway to the cafeteria. suddenly, there are people all around us, and they’re noticing tiny the same way they’d notice someone who decided to go from class to class on horseback. the other day i was joking with gideon that the reason the school made all of our lockers gray was so kids like me could blend in and make it through the hallways safely. but with tiny, that’s not an option. heads turn.
me: do you always get this much attention?
tiny: not so much. i guess people notice my extraordinary hugeness more here. do you mind if i hold your hand?
the truth is, i do mind. but i know that since he’s my boyfriend, the answer should be that i don’t mind at all. he’d probably carry me to class in his arms, if i asked him nicely.
i take his hand, which is big and slippery. but i guess i can’t hide the worry on my face, because he takes one look and lets go.
tiny: never mind.
me: it’s not you. i’m just not a hand-holding-in-hallways kind of guy. not even if you were a girl. not even if you were a cheerleader with big tits.
tiny: but i was a cheerleader with big tits.
i stop and look at him.
me: you’re kidding.
tiny: only for a few days. i totally ruined the pyramid.
we walk a little farther.
tiny: i suppose putting my hand in your back pocket is out of the question?
me: *cough*
tiny: that was a joke.
me: can i at least buy you lunch? maybe there’s even a casserole!
i have to keep reminding myself that this is what i wanted - this is what everybody is supposed to want. here’s a boy who wants to be affectionate with me. a boy who will get in his car and drive to see me. a boy who isn’t afraid of what everyone else is going to think when they see us together. a boy who thinks i can improve his mental health.
one of the lunch ladies actually laughs when tiny gets all gleeful about the empanadas that they’re serving in celebration of latino heritage week (or maybe it’s latino heritage month). she calls him sweetie when she hands it to him, which is pretty funny, since i’ve spent the last three years trying to win her over enough to stop getting the smallest piece of pizza from the tray.
when we get to the table, derek and simon are already there - gideon’s the only one missing. since i haven’t warned them about our special guest star, they look surprised and petrified when we walk over.
me: derek and simon, this is tiny. tiny, this is derek and simon.
tiny: lovely to meet you!
simon: ermm . . .
derek: nice to meet you, too. who are you?
tiny: i’m will’s boyfriend. from evanston.
okay, now they’re looking at him like he’s a magical beast from world of warcraft. derek’s amused, in a friendly way. simon is looking at tiny, then looking at me, then looking at tiny, in a way that can only mean that he’s wondering how someone so big and someone so wiry can have sex.
i feel a hand on my shoulder.
gideon: there you are!
gideon seems to be the only person in the school who doesn’t seem shocked by tiny’s appearance. without missing a beat, he leans his other hand out to shake.
gideon: you must be tiny.
tiny looks at the hand gideon has on my shoulder before shaking the hand that gideon’s offered. he doesn’t sound too happy when he says
tiny: . . . and you must be gideon.
his handshake has to be a little firmer than usual, since gideon actually winces before it’s through. then he leaves to pull up an extra chair to the table, offering tiny the place where he usually sits.
tiny: now, isn’t this cozy?
well, no. the smell of his beef empanada makes me feel like i’m locked in a small, warm room full of dog food. simon, i fear, is on the verge of saying something wrong, and derek looks like he’s going to blog about the whole thing. gideon starts asking tiny friendly questions, and tiny keeps giving one-word answers.
gideon: how was the traffic getting here?
tiny: fine.
gideon: is this a lot like your school?
tiny: meh.
gideon: i hear you’re putting on a musical.
tiny: yup.
finally, gideon gets up to buy a cookie, allowing me to lean over to tiny and ask
me: why are you treating him like someone who dumped you?
tiny: i’m not!
me: you don’t even know him.
tiny: i know his type.
me: what type?
tiny: the wispy cute type. they’re poison.
i think he knows he’s gone a little too far there, because he immediately adds
tiny: but he se
ems really nice.
he looks around the cafeteria.
tiny: which one’s maura?
me: two tables to the left of the door. sitting by herself, poor slaughtered lamb. scribbling in her notebook.
as if sensing our glance, she looks up in our direction, then puts her head down and scribbles more furiously.
derek: how is the beef empanada? in all my years here, you’re the first person i’ve ever seen finish it.
tiny: not bad, if you don’t mind salty. it’s like someone made a pop-tart out of beef jerky.
simon: and how long have the two of you been, like, together?
tiny: i dunno? four weeks, two days, and eighteen hours, i think.
simon: so you’re the guy.
tiny: what guy?
simon: the guy who almost lost us the mathletic competition.
tiny: if that’s true, then i’m very sorry.
simon: well, you know what they say.
derek: simon?
simon: gay guys always put dicks before math.
me: in the whole history of the world, no one has ever said that.
derek: you’re just upset that the girl from naperville -
simon: don’t go there!
derek: - wouldn’t sit on your lap when you asked her to.
simon: it was a crowded bus!
gideon comes back with cookies for all of us.
gideon: it’s a special occasion. what did i miss?
me: dicks before math.
gideon: that makes no sense.
me: exactly.
tiny is starting to fidget, and he’s not even touching his cookie. it’s a soft cookie. with chocolate chips. it should be in his digestive system by now.
if tiny’s losing his appetite, there’s no way we’re going to make it through the rest of the school day. it’s not like i have any desire to go to class - why would tiny? if he wants to be with me, i should be with him. and this school will never let me.
me: let’s leave.
tiny: but i just got here.
me: you have just met the only people i ever interact with. you have sampled our fine cuisine. if you’d like, i can show you the trophy case on the way out so you can bask in the achievements of the alumni who are now old enough to be suffering from erectile dysfunction, memory loss, and death. i am never, ever, going to be able to display affection for you here, but if you get me in private, it will be another matter entirely.
tiny: dicks before math.
me: yes. dicks before math. even though i already had math class today. i’ll skip it retroactively to be with you.
derek: go! go!
tiny seems very pleased by this turn of events.
tiny: i’ll have you all to myself?
this is borderline embarrassing to admit in front of other people, so i just nod.
we gather our trays and say our good-byes. gideon looks a little bummed, but sounds sincere when he tells tiny he hopes we’ll all get a chance to hang out later. tiny says he hopes so, too, but not like he means it.
as we’re about to leave the cafeteria, tiny says he needs to make one more stop.
tiny: there’s something i have to do.
me: the restroom’s down that hallway, to the left.
but that’s not his destination.
he’s heading straight for maura’s table.
me: what are you doing? we don’t talk to her.
tiny: you might not - but i have a thing or two i’d like to say.
she’s looking up at us now.
me: stop. tiny: step aside, grayson. i know what i’m doing.
she makes a big production of putting down her pen and closing her notebook.
me: don’t, tiny.
but he steps forward and hovers over her. the mountain has come to maura, and it has something to say.
there’s a flash of nervousness across tiny’s face before he begins. he takes a deep breath. she looks at him with a studied blankness.
tiny: i just wanted to come over and thank you. i’m tiny cooper, and i’ve been dating this will grayson for four weeks, two days, and eighteen hours now. if you hadn’t been such an evil, selfish, deceitful, vindictive frenemy to him, we would have never met. it just goes to show, if you try to ruin someone’s life, it only gets better. you just don’t get to be a part of it.
me: tiny, enough.
tiny: i think she needs to know what she’s missing, will. i think she needs to know how happy -
me: ENOUGH!
a lot of people hear it. tiny certainly does, because he stops. and maura certainly does, because she stops staring blankly at him and starts staring blankly at me. i am so mad at both of them right now. i take tiny by the hand, but this time it’s to pull him away. maura smirks at that, then opens her notebook and starts writing again. i make it to the door, then let go of tiny’s hand, head back to maura’s table, grab the notebook, and rip out the page that she’s writing on. i don’t even read it. i just rip it out and crumple it up and then throw the notebook back on the table, knocking over her diet coke. i don’t say a word. i just leave.
i am so angry i can’t speak. tiny is behind me, saying
tiny: what? what did i do?
i wait until we’re out of the building. i wait until we’re in the parking lot. i wait until he’s led me to his car. i wait until we’re inside the car. i wait until i feel i can open my mouth without screaming. And then i say:
me: you really shouldn’t have done that.
tiny: why?
me: WHY? because i’m not talking to her. because i’ve managed to avoid her for a month, and now you just dragged me over to her and made her feel like she matters in my life.
tiny: she needed to be taught a lesson.
me: what lesson? that if she tries to ruin someone’s life, it only gets better? that’s a great lesson, tiny. now she can try to ruin more people’s lives, because at least she’ll have the satisfaction of knowing she’s doing them a favor. maybe she can even start a matchmaking service. clearly, it worked for us.
tiny: stop it.
me: stop what?
tiny: stop talking to me like i’m stupid. i’m not stupid.
me: i know you’re not stupid. but you sure as hell did a stupid thing.
he hasn’t even started the car yet. we’re still sitting in the parking lot.
tiny: this isn’t how the day was supposed to go.
me: well, you know what? a lot of the time, you have no control over how your day goes.
tiny: stop. please. i want this to be a nice day.
he starts the car. it’s my turn to take a deep breath. who the hell wants to be the one to tell a kid that santa claus isn’t real. it’s the truth, right? but you’re still a jerk for saying it.
tiny: let’s go somewhere you like to go. where should we go? take me somewhere that matters to you.
me: like what?
tiny: like . . . i don’t know. for me, if i need to feel better, i go alone to super target. i don’t know why, but seeing all of those things makes me happy. it’s probably the design. i don’t even have to buy anything. just seeing all the people together, seeing all the things i could buy - all the colors, aisle after aisle - sometimes i need that. for jane, it’s this indie record store we’ll go to so she can look at old vinyl while i look at all the boy band cds in the two-dollar bin and try to figure out which one i think is the cutest. or the other will grayson - there’s this park in our town, where all the little league teams play. and he loves the dugout, because when no one else is around, it’s really quiet there. when there’s not a game on, you can sit there and all that exists are the things that happened in the past. i think everyone has a place like that. you must have a place like that.
John Green & David Levithan Page 19
