If You, Then Me

by Yvonne Woon

  “Beer?” Mike said, kneeling over a cooler. Arthur and one of the Joshes were standing nearby, playing cornhole with a few boys I didn’t recognize. Before I could respond, Mike tossed me a can.

  “Two more,” Kate called to him.

  She and Seema were sitting around a sleek gas firepit with AJ, Arun, Micah, and Drew—their faces lit up by the flames as they sipped their beers.

  Mike settled in next to Kate, who folded her legs toward him like a fawn. Otherwise, there was no space left on the sofa except near AJ, who was slouched, his legs splayed so they took up twice the space that he needed.

  He looked up at me, amused, as if he saw my conundrum and relished how uncomfortable it made me. Just to spite him, I sat down, trying not to let my arms or legs touch his, which was impossible because he refused to make room.

  “Nice skirt,” AJ said to me. Though it was a compliment, it didn’t feel like one.

  In some alternate universe, where AJ was kind and funny and expressed compassion for the feelings of others, I could see him being considered attractive. There was nothing wrong with his hair, which was darker than Mike’s, or his face, which was gruffer and slightly more chiseled, or even his body, which looked impressive in both sweats and business casual. It was his expression that ruined it, his cool eyes and smug smile that made me wish implantables already existed so I could hack into his chip and scramble his face.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled.

  Beside me, Arun and Micah were complaining about Kowalski’s new assignment, a problem that required a greedy algorithm, and felt like it was intentionally designed to drive us mad.

  “So is it true? About the offer?” AJ asked.

  At first, I didn’t think he was talking to me. Why would he be talking to me?

  “The Vilbo deal?”

  “Yeah. Did they really offer you one point five million and did you really turn it down?”

  I searched his face, trying to figure out if he was setting me up for an epic takedown, but he seemed too sincere.

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “That’s pretty cool,” AJ said. To my surprise, he didn’t seem to be making fun of me. He was just being . . . nice? Was that even the right word?

  “Thanks,” I murmured. We sat in silence, half listening to the conversations nearby, though I could only hear enough to keep up with bits and pieces. The only person left to talk to was AJ, and while I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of conversing with him, I figured it was a good opportunity to make sure he wasn’t ObjectPermanence.

  “So you grew up around here,” I said.

  “Menlo Park, born and raised,” AJ said, taking a sip of his beer. “Can’t you tell from my carefree demeanor and my proclivity for disruption?” He pointed with his beer through the trees. “My house is just down the hill, three miles away as the drone flies.”

  I stiffened at his mention of a drone.

  “She’s fine by the way,” he said. “I know you were concerned.”

  “Who is?”

  “My drone.”

  “Oh good. I was worried. So you’re saying I should keep my shades down from now on?”

  “What’s the point of living in beautiful California if you can’t see it? Drones are part of the view in California. They’re like birds. Might as well get used to them now.”

  I rolled my eyes. “So your parents work in tech?”

  “Everyone’s parents work in tech.”

  “My parents don’t work in tech.”

  “I guess you’re no one, then.”

  He said it casually, like it was a joke, though we both knew that it wasn’t.

  I thought about ObjectPermanence and what he’d said about his parents and his upbringing. “I’ve heard that kids who grow up with a lot of money feel more like nobodies than people who grew up with nothing.”

  AJ’s eye twitched. “Why would they feel like nobodies?”

  I studied him, wondering if I could detect a hint of recognition. “They feel like they don’t deserve what they have.”

  AJ held my gaze for a moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Though he said it with confidence, he wouldn’t look me in the eye, and I wondered if under all of his bullying, his insecurities weren’t that different from mine.

  He couldn’t be ObjectPermanence, could he? It would be too cruel of a joke. Yet it now seemed slightly almost barely possible that a person like AJ could be capable of writing the messages ObjectPermanence had, if he’d known that no one could trace them back to him.

  That’s when Kate clinked an opener against her beer bottle. Everyone on the deck quieted down.

  “Let’s play a game,” she said.

  “Flip cup,” AJ hollered.

  “Quaint idea, but I was thinking something a little more technologically advanced, since we are the future leaders of our generation.” The last part she said in a mock Lars Lang voice, which actually sounded pretty spot-on.

  “I don’t know if you realize,” Kate continued, “but we have in our presence the illustrious founder of Dare Me.”

  Everyone turned to Arthur, who grinned and took a little bow.

  “I’ve invited everyone here to a private group on the app. Once you join it, you can send anyone in the group an anonymous Truth or Dare, which I’ll read out loud, shotgun style. If you refuse to answer or do the dare, you have to take a shot.”

  There was an uncomfortable shuffle as everyone opened Dare Me. We all knew that people were more brazen when they were anonymous, and I didn’t like the idea of being put on the spot at a party with potentially mortifying questions. On the other hand, it was also an opportunity.

  AJ, Mike, Arun—any of them could be ObjectPermanence. I clicked on each of their names and began typing my questions.

  “Okay,” Kate said after a few minutes. “Who’s up first?” She shook her phone, then looked at the screen and smiled. “Seema. Truth or Dare?”

  Seema let out a breath. “Truth.”

  Kate tapped her phone, then read the anonymous question. “What’s your bra size?”

  “Seriously?” Seema groaned. “34B,” she admitted to the delight of the boys around us.

  “Are you a virgin?” Kate said, reading the next question.

  Seema hesitated. “Sort of.”

  Micah scoffed. “You either are or aren’t. You can’t be halfway.”

  “Then I guess I am,” she said.

  “Where’s the dirtiest place you’ve ever hooked up with anyone?” Kate read.

  Seema shifted uncomfortably, and I wondered if she would take the shot. “The bathroom at one of the tech fairs,” she finally admitted, to shouts.

  “Who was it?” Arun asked.

  “None of your business,” Seema said.

  “If you had to hook up with someone at the Foundry, who would it be?” Kate read.

  Seema thought about it. “Mr. Lajani. Okay, these questions are getting way too personal. Let’s do a dare.”

  “Lick all the condensation from the outside of a beer bottle,” Kate read.

  Seema rolled her eyes. “I’ll take the shot.” A few boys booed.

  Kate shook her phone again. “Okay, Arun, it’s your turn.”

  He leaned forward, cradling his beer. “Truth me.”

  “Have you ever seen the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey?”

  Everyone groaned but me. It was my question.

  “Seriously?” Kate said. “Seema gets asked if she’s a virgin and the boys get asked about movies?”

  Arun gave her an amused shrug. “I’ll give you a twofer. I’m not a virgin, and I haven’t seen 2001: A Space Odyssey. Is that the one with the monkeys?”

  “That’s Planet of the Apes,” Josh said. “But close.”

  Time slowed as I processed his answer. Arun hadn’t seen 2001: A Space Odyssey?

  Kate asked him another question, but I didn’t pay attention. If Arun hadn’t seen it, then he couldn’t be ObjectPermanence.

  While everyone chatted,
I let the realization sink in. It didn’t matter that I’d thought he was the most likely option. It wasn’t him. I mentally crossed him off my list, which meant that there were only two names left: Mike and AJ.

  “These questions are boring. Let’s do a dare,” Arun said.

  “Read the search history on your phone out loud,” Kate read.

  Arun winced. “I’ll go for the shot, please.”

  While Mike poured him a drink, Kate shook her phone again. “AJ, you’re up.”

  “Truth,” he said from beside me, a cocky glint in his eye.

  “Rate every girl at the Foundry from one to ten,” Kate read.

  “Too easy,” AJ said. “Deborah is obviously a one. Amina’s a five.”

  My face flushed with righteous rage for both of them.

  “Seema’s a seven. Kate’s a nine, and Xia . . .” AJ studied me. “You know I normally don’t like Asian girls, but I’ll admit it, Xia’s an eight.”

  It made me feel like a punchline, like I was a freak on display. I could almost feel the spotlight on me while a circus announcer spoke into his megaphone: Step right up, folks, and see the Chinese Code Doll! A Slanted-eyed Wonder! She’s Asian and she’s pretty! A living paradox! She’ll dazzle you with her programming and her good looks! You might think that Chinese girls can’t be pretty, but this one will make you think twice!

  It was a confirmation of how I’d always felt. That I was inherently different than everyone else, inherently less-than. I shifted in my seat, feeling suddenly aware of his leg touching mine, and wanted to push it away.

  “Truth me again,” AJ said.

  “Have you . . . ever seen the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey?” Kate read. “Wow, someone really likes this movie.”

  “Of course I have,” AJ said.

  A pit formed in my stomach.

  “Do you like peanut butter and banana sandwiches?” Kate read. “This person really doesn’t understand the spirit of the game.”

  It wasn’t any old pit; it was a rupture in the space-time continuum, causing time to slow.

  “Who doesn’t?” AJ said, the words stretching out and folding in on themselves, multiplying and dividing. Whooooo ooo. Who ooo Wh ooo ooo Doeesss nn’tt?

  “Do you have a good relationship with your dad?” Kate read. “Another weird question. Who’s asking these?”

  “Definitely not.”

  His voice sounded distant, like I was far away, being pulled deep into the gravity of the event horizon.

  Kate asked him a few more questions, but I barely heard them. AJ. ObjectPermanence. Could it be?

  I watched him decline to tell anyone how much money his father gave him in his spending account when Kate turned to me.

  “Okay, Xia,” she said. “What’ll it be?”

  I steeled myself. “Truth.”

  “Are you a virgin?” Kate read.

  I swallowed. “Yes.”

  “What’s your bra size?” Kate read.

  “34A,” I mumbled.

  “Do you have a gag reflex?” Kate read with a grimace.

  I hated this game. “Of course I do.”

  “If you had to hook up with anyone here, who would it be?”

  I hesitated. “I’ll take the shot.”

  “Oh, come on,” Kate said.

  “I want the shot,” I insisted.

  “Fine.”

  I tried not to gag as the vodka slid down my throat, burning my insides like I had swallowed fire.

  While I sat stunned by the very real possibility that my online soul mate was AJ, Kate turned to Micah, then Drew, though I barely registered their answers.

  Then it was Mike’s turn.

  “Here we go again,” Kate said, looking at the question on her screen. “Mike, have you ever seen the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey?”

  “I haven’t,” Mike said.

  I was hurtling past the event horizon, all light and matter sucking me toward the singularity: that AJ was ObjectPermanence.

  If Mike hadn’t seen 2001: A Space Odyssey, then he couldn’t be ObjectPermanence, either. I blinked, feeling the ground shift beneath me. With Mike and Arun off the list, that left only one name:

  AJ.

  “Peanut butter and banana sandwiches?” Kate asked, shortening the question on her phone, but the answer didn’t matter.

  “Delicious,” he said.

  “Relationship with dad?”

  “Not great.”

  I felt suddenly aware of AJ’s arm brushing against mine every time he took a drink. Had it been him this whole time? Was he the one I thought I was in love with? Was he the one I had traded Mast for?

  “Rate every girl at the Foundry on a scale of one to ten,” Kate read.

  Amid boos, Mike asked for the shot.

  “My turn,” Kate said, and handed the phone to Seema. “Truth, obviously.”

  “What’s your bra size?” Seema read.

  “32B. Boring. Next.”

  “What color underwear are you wearing?”

  Kate peeked beneath her pants. “Black. Next.”

  “Are you a virgin?” Seema read.

  Kate gave Seema a coy smile. “No.”

  An excited murmur rose over the party. AJ nodded at Mike, who looked embarrassed.

  “Where’s the nastiest place you’ve done the deed?” Seema read.

  “A dressing room at the mall.”

  The boys whooped. Drew nudged Mike as if to ask him if it was true, but he only looked at his feet, his face beet red.

  “Okay, dare me,” Kate said.

  “Take off your shirt,” Seema read.

  I assumed Kate would decline and take a shot, but she pulled her camel sweater over her shoulders only to reveal a T-shirt of the same exact color beneath it.

  “Boo,” Drew said.

  “Hey, quit it,” Mike said, elbowing him in the side.

  “Next,” Kate said.

  “Take off your bra,” Seema read.

  To everyone’s surprise, Kate reached under the back of her shirt and unclasped her bra. She slipped it off and dangled it in the air to the delight of all the boys at the party. It was a beautiful bra, black and delicate and lacey, the kind of bra you saw in movies. Just looking at it made me feel frumpy and childish. I thought about my cheap cotton bras and wanted to throw them all out.

  Kate dropped it in Mike’s lap, who stared at it in awe. “Next,” she said.

  “Kiss another girl,” Seema read.

  “Really?” she said to no one in particular, then leaned toward Seema and pressed her lips to hers. The boys whooped and hollered. “Next.”

  “I dare you to kiss the person on your right.”

  She turned to Mike and smiled, then kissed him. It was oddly intimate to witness, and I shifted in my seat.

  “Next,” she said.

  “Post an ugly picture of yourself on social media,” Seema read.

  “Now, that I won’t do,” Kate said, and took a shot.

  The next round went quickly. Arun drank. Josh drank. Drew drank. Mike refused to reveal how many girls he’d hooked up with and took a shot. AJ said the number of girls he’d hooked up with was “too high to remember” and took a shot. Seema refused to take her bra off and took a shot.

  When it was my turn again, I held my breath.

  “What exactly does Mitzy Erst see in you?” Kate read.

  I was surprised by how resentful the question was, and wondered who had asked it. “I—I don’t know. She likes Wiser and thinks it has potential.”

  Kate’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as though she were annoyed by my response. She read the next question. “You grew up with a single mom who was also an immigrant. Do you think that contributed to you getting into the Foundry?”

  “What?”

  Kate began to repeat the question, but I interrupted her. “No, I heard you. I just . . .” I let my voice trail off. My face grew hot. I scanned the faces around me, wondering who had written it. It could have been anyone. “That isn’t e
ven a question. It’s a statement in question form.”

  “Does that mean you’re not going to answer?” Kate said.

  “Give me the shot.”

  I could feel the vodka hollowing out a hole in my stomach, but I didn’t mind. It was better than answering questions, better than looking around the group and wondering who thought I didn’t belong here.

  By then, everyone was starting to feel woozy. Drew took a picture of himself humping a decorative lawn sculpture and posted it online. Arun drank a cup of water from the hot tub, then spit it out all over the deck. Josh couldn’t drink any more and agreed to kiss Seema. Seema couldn’t drink any more and took off her cardigan, then her shirt, until she was sitting in a thin camisole. Micah filmed himself doing an impression of Deborah and posted it online.

  “Deborah is smarter than anyone here,” I protested.

  “And?” Micah said.

  “You’re being cruel,” I said. “What if she sees that video?”

  “If she doesn’t want anyone doing her impression, then maybe she shouldn’t make it so easy,” AJ said.

  I wanted to say something witty in return but my brain wasn’t working as quickly as it normally did, and I was distracted by the way the couch seemed to be swaying.

  “Okay,” said Kate, who was the only one in the entire group who didn’t seem drunk. “Xia, Truth or Dare?”

  “Dare,” I said.

  Kate looked at the prompt on her phone. “I dare you to spend ten minutes locked in a closet with a randomly generated person from this group.”

  I couldn’t drink any more, and to be honest, the thought of sitting in a dark closet sounded nice. “Sure.”

  I held my breath while Kate shook her phone, and hoped it wouldn’t be AJ.

  Kate’s face dropped when she read the name. “Mike.”

  A hush fell over the deck as everyone considered what it meant for me to spend ten minutes in a dark room with Kate’s boyfriend. Mike looked at me sheepishly.

  “Seriously?” he said to Kate, in a tone that made me wish I could invent a phase-changing machine so that I could dissolve my current self into a stream of vapor and disperse myself into the atmosphere. No one ever felt embarrassed to be locked in a small space with air molecules.