by M. A. Hinkle
I gestured at my own face. There wasn’t much—just contouring and eye shadow and liner so my expression would be easier to read from the cheap seats. “I did this myself, didn’t I? Now hush.”
Felix settled back in his chair. I picked through the kit for foundation to match his particular “fish that never sees sunlight and has evolved to absorb its eyes in the womb” skin tone. “You have a lot of weird hidden talents.”
I thought about making a dirty joke, but A) Felix wouldn’t get it, and B) Sarah could always pop out from behind the curtain and reveal this was an elaborate shit test.
“I don’t hide them, but most of my talents are not the kind you go wearing on your sleeve. People can have polite conversations about playing the violin. They back away slowly when you tell them you make Molotov cocktails.” Felix opened his mouth. “I’m joking. I do drag.” Felix opened his mouth again. “I said hush. Close your eyes. If I’m not done with you by the time Sarah comes back, she’ll find the actual fairy king and sell me to him.”
“Those jokes are less funny since David Bowie is dead.” Felix sighed and tilted his face up to mine.
I gave myself precisely ten seconds to stare at him. Then I smeared foundation on his cheeks. The good thing about makeup was I stopped seeing someone’s face as a face, so I wasn’t thinking about him that way.
As much.
Turning him into some fascinating androgynous figure, rather than a gawky kid who’d never grow into his limbs, was kind of fun. I finished with his eyes and took a step back. “You can do your lips yourself.” I dropped the gloss into his lap.
Felix opened his eyes, looking up at me instead of the mirror. “You’re really fast.”
“Told you I’ve done it before. Now finish your face. I still have half an hour’s worth of skulking in the corner to do before we get started.” I stepped away, intending to make good on my comment—and also get a peek at Morgan—but Felix kept watching me.
I couldn’t make sense of his expression. It belonged in the play, at the moment when Titania awoke and took Oberon’s hand after the whole donkey mess. When the two of them made up and began to see each other as equals. Not here, between the two of us as ourselves. “What, don’t tell me I screwed up my makeup doing yours?”
Felix shook his head. “No, you look…” He broke off, turning to the mirror. “Oh, wow, you did do a good job.”
I folded my arms. “Do you have something to say or not? I want to take advantage of resembling a villain in an eighties movie while I can.”
“Oh, sorry, you distracted me.” Felix turned back to me, shifting his weight in the chair. “I just—I wanted to thank you again for Saturday. Talking to my friends was easier after you confronted me about it.” He fiddled with his elbow-length gloves. “I would have tried to keep my mouth shut. We’ve all been walking on eggshells around each other since my mom died, and it sucked. I dunno if it’s fixed, but it’s better.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying the first thing I thought, which was actually good, I’m glad, and not a random combination of swear words. “I’m turning into a broken record, but I already know you’ll be obnoxious until the day you die.”
Felix kept smiling at me evenly, like he was onto my game. Even though he wasn’t, or he wouldn’t have been smiling. “Well, you’re pretty attentive, so I’m not surprised.”
“Enough. I’m lurking now, and you’re not going to stop me.” He moved as though to get up. “And God help me, if you get out of your chair and mess up your outfit, I will draw a dick on your face. In sharpie.”
I REALLY DID check on Morgan, but he was with the triplets minus one. They’d discovered an actual goddamn penny whistle and were demonstrating a jig while he clapped time. If only I was making it up.
DURING REHEARSAL, I spent too much mental energy buried in denial to notice the passage of time. One minute, we were sitting in a circle or lining up onstage, and the next, Miss Copeland was dismissing us for the night. But if practice was on fast forward, the actual performance was set to hyperdrive.
Morgan and Haylee did a great job. I hadn’t had much chance to watch him during rehearsals, but I almost didn’t recognize him. He smiled at Haylee, the image of a man smitten the whole time (even though Haylee was gayer than Sarah), and he had a natural rapport with the other adult Athenians. Watching him onstage, you’d never have thought he’d sooner run himself through on his prop sword than talk to someone his own age.
Only…it wasn’t true anymore. But where did it leave me?
I didn’t get much chance to think about it. Titania and Oberon didn’t appear until the third scene of act one, but Helena rushed her lines—Sarah got her out on stage, but couldn’t fix her nerves—and, before I knew it, it was my turn to walk out. I had to take a deep breath before I spoke. The crowd didn’t bother me. Nope. But I’d have to dance with Felix in front of other people. In front of my dad. In front of Felix’s dad.
Good thing I could ignore the rest of the world with Felix in my arms.
Even when everything slowed down, and people stopped spitting out Shakespeare faster than Hamilton lyrics¸ the play went by in a rush. I wasn’t thinking about anything except my next line, and for a few hours, my heart was as light as my feet.
No, the only thing I really remembered was Felix’s face tilted up to mine, the light weight of him balanced on my palm. Even though he was acting furious with me, his eyes danced, and I knew the moment we stepped off stage, the smile he’d been hiding would burst across his face, bright and startling as summer lightning.
I didn’t know what he saw in my eyes. Hopefully he thought I was acting.
BEFORE I KNEW it, the play was over: Puck gave their final monologue, and then each pair of us came out on stage, hand in hand. Miss Copeland gave us a speech/lecture I barely heard, and we could finally change into street clothes.
I was glad for the few minutes I had wiping off my face and pulling down my hair, because it gave me a chance to think.
I’d participated in a harmless after school activity. I’d danced with another boy on stage in front of the entire school (and Trevor). And I had…enjoyed myself. I wasn’t killing time until the semester ended. I wanted to keep doing it, and I couldn’t even blame my crush on my costar.
Okay, yeah, I spent a little time with my head hidden under my waistcoat, pretending I was having trouble getting free so I could smile. So I could take a deep breath. So I could make sure I’d recognize this feeling of peace if it ever came back around.
WHEN I FINISHED changing, I went to track down Morgan because he’d exited on the opposite side of the stage. I wasn’t worried he’d be panicking or freaking out, which was still weird, but the new reality was settling around me the same way the knowledge of my own happiness had. Not to say it was a comfortable fit, but I could live with it.
Morgan had been put in charge of collecting everyone’s microphones before they died horrible deaths. He was sitting on a big pile of padded mats, beside a box labeled Adults Only in three languages. I never learned what so scarred the adults during the last play, but they kept dropping portentous hints about why we weren’t allowed to touch the audiovisual equipment. As if they’d narrowly averted the stage management apocalypse.
“So what’d you think?” I sat beside Morgan, glaring the other way in case he didn’t feel up to talking.
“It was a lot of fun. And I know you won’t admit it, but I saw how much you enjoyed yourself out there.” He sounded fine. In fact, we could have been having this conversation at home, not backstage, where we had to keep shifting out of the way of passing people or props.
“Maybe I will admit it, just to keep everyone on their toes.”
Morgan finished with the battery pack and held out his hand for my mic. He checked to make sure it was off and set it in the box. “I told the triplets minus one about the party.” He said this with no fanfare.
I glanced at him. “I was getting there. I just—”
“You were busy,” said Morgan, without reproach. “Anyway, they were arguing about whether Dr. Hale would let them host it at their place, so I said we could do it at ours.”
I studied him up and down to reassure myself he wasn’t holding tension anywhere. And he was, but the kind that told you he was shy, not that he was terrified of every other human being.
Morgan returned my gaze coolly. “Not going to ask me if I’ve been taken over by an alien slithering in my ear?”
I leaned back on my elbows, closing my eyes. “Nope. If this is what we’re doing now, then this is what we’re doing.” I could feel Morgan studying me, but I kept my eyes closed.
“I do appreciate you looking out for me,” said Morgan, his tone softening. “But I think it’s getting better. Maybe. Even if it doesn’t make sense.”
“We’re teenagers. Everything confuses us.”
TREVOR WAS WAITING for us in the lobby. I’d forgotten he was going to be there—I was so used to him never showing up. But he was leaning against the wall by the door, reading the Iliad in Welsh because apparently it was a thing.
“So what’d you think?” I asked, trying to head the awkward off at the pass.
“It was very well done.” He tucked his book into an inner pocket of his coat. He wore long dramatic jackets like a villain in a detective movie, but only because the pockets were large enough to hold books. “I was surprised by the amount of thought put into it. Is your teacher still here? I wish to speak to her and extend my congratulations.”
I glanced at Morgan to make sure he’d heard it too. The idea of our father talking to someone he didn’t know was about as strange as…well, I would say Morgan, but he was getting over his hang-ups. Could my dad be changing too?
…Nah.
“Uh, I think she’s still backstage. You oughta go get her, Morgan. I’ll just say something dumb.” Morgan didn’t even shoot me a dirty look for throwing him under the bus.
Maybe because I was really throwing myself under the bus. I was now trapped after a vulnerable experience with Dr. Trevor Lewis, the reigning champion of badly handling vulnerable experiences.
But he glanced down at me, and actually at me. “Your performance was excellent, Gareth. You’ve never expressed an interest in theater before.”
I shrugged. “Well, I can’t keep my mouth shut. If this was shocking for anyone, it’s Morgan.”
His mouth turned down. “There we are again, moving to Morgan rather than letting me say anything about you. I simply wanted to tell you I’m glad. You seem happier since you transferred.”
I kept my gaze away. I wasn’t going to search for something that didn’t exist. Luckily, before I had to respond, Morgan came over with Miss Copeland in tow.
To my surprise, Trevor started a real, ordinary conversation with Miss Copeland. Well, as ordinary as he ever got—they were discussing Middle English. Enthusiastically.
“You want to sneak out to the car before he has a chance to grill us?” I whispered to Morgan.
“He’ll do it when we’re home.” But Morgan still nodded.
I expected we’d sit for a bit while Trevor made awkward but polite conversation until he found a reason to run. But we ended up waiting almost fifteen minutes.
“Apologies, boys,” Trevor said when he got in the car. “I didn’t mean for the time to slip away. I’m sure you’re both tired.”
And he didn’t ask us anything else. Morgan shrugged, so I got the picture about questioning a good thing.
If I was eighteen, I might have gone out and bought some stock in random startups. Luck was turning for everybody in this family.
ANOTHER SHOCKER: THE rest of the cast seemed excited about a party at our place. They all talked to me as though I hadn’t spent every rehearsal avoiding them. Probably Morgan’s doing. He was no social butterfly, but he was getting along better than me, and not in a weird, superficial way. He made eye contact now.
After the third time someone mentioned the party, I quit questioning it and maybe let people see I was cool with socializing. Maybe.
EVERYONE SEEMED TO have gotten their jitters out on the first night, and I didn’t have to do Felix’s makeup again, so I nearly got through the entire string of performances scot-free—where Felix was concerned, anyway. During study hall, he was mixing the song I’d worked on. By the second week of performances, I was getting used to spending all my time alone in the library—and getting my homework done. So, of course, Felix came over to join me.
“I thought you understood I’d ousted you from my realm.” I couldn’t not acknowledge him. I’d be waltzing with him in less than three hours.
“I went on sabbatical.” He was arranging his things. Was he this fussy in class, or was this to avoid me? “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you.”
I focused on my textbook. “You’re going to be talking to me sooner than you think.”
“In non-Elizabethan English. You didn’t come to band practice this weekend.” Now he was frowning at me in irritation, only irritation didn’t fit on his face, so he just came off confused.
I turned a page, eyes fixed on my homework. “Morgan did, and he’s the one who can actually play an instrument, so…”
“So, I thought we were, like—friends.” He frowned at one of the shelves. “But I guess you were only hanging out with me because you thought your brother was going to date me, which would be…weird.” He pressed his face into his arms. “You’re confusing.”
“I’m confusing,” I muttered, though I was glad he had his face hidden so I could study him. Why did he want me there? As protection against Morgan? “I keep telling you I’m not a musician, and band practice is a sacred rite. I was trying not to glimpse wonders not meant for my eyes, in case I melted like those Nazis at the end of Raiders.”
“Yeah, but you can stop pretending you don’t care about music now I’ve heard you sing.” Felix pulled his knees up to his chest. “So just…come to band practice, is what I’m trying to say. Having you there is—good. I dunno why I keep having to make it weird.”
“Because you’re weird.” It was supposed to be teasing, but it sounded…soft.
Good thing Felix was thick as a brick, because he stuck his tongue out at me. “You can keep trying to make it an insult, but it’s a compliment, so it’s not going to work.”
I thought about telling him it was never meant to be an insult, but there was pushing my luck and then there was tempting fate.
THE FINAL PERFORMANCE arrived on a Saturday afternoon, and I was…a little bit sad. Morgan made us get there first, so I was already dressed and ready as everyone else started to arrive. We were taking photos for the yearbook, which meant I had plenty of time to kill and thus plenty of time to brood.
I could stop acting this way. Whenever I wanted. I had a whole party ahead of me and stuff. And Trevor wouldn’t be at this performance—he hadn’t come to every one, but more than expected—so I could be exactly as gay as I wanted. And Felix had said he wanted to hang out with me. Actually me, not me and Morgan.
I could enjoy things. It was safe. And if I still couldn’t let myself be honest, it proved I was a coward once and for all.
But whatever.
DEMETRIUS CAME DOWN with the flu and puked all over backstage, so we had to scramble to find his female stand-in and get her dressed.
I hardly noticed, though. I’d heard the final performance had a different energy, but I thought it would be nerves, especially because this one was getting recorded. But everyone was having more fun. We’d all pushed through our hang-ups and realized this was the last time around, so we might as well let loose.
Or, at least, I did. I stopped treating Felix like some fragile doll who would break if I cued him too hard, and when he pushed me away at the end of our first dance, he made me stumble. When we came together again for the foxtrot scene, Felix didn’t just go through the steps—he led me. And at the end of the dance, he cued me for a dip as if we did it all the time.
I
wished male Demetrius hadn’t fucked up his lines, but I was glad that night ended up on video so I knew it happened.
WHEN THE PERFORMANCE was over, I hurried to get back into my clothes. I wasn’t worried, exactly—I was wondering if Morgan was nervous. I’d forgotten how much noise fear made in my head.
I’d just finished pulling my shirt over my head when Felix came hunting for me. He was still in full costume except for his gloves, with his regular clothes draped over his arms. “Can you help me get out of this? I usually ask Zach or Alex, but they’re talking to Sarah about—stuff, and everybody else is busy.”
I thought about sending him away, but what was the point? Anyway, he was wearing shorts under the dress. “Turn around.” He did so without hesitation. “I’d ask if they were crashing the party, but they’re invited, so…”
Felix shook his head. I pinched his shoulder to get him to stand still; the dress had a zipper and hook-and-eye loops, so I had to concentrate. “No, um—” He sighed. “Sarah broke up with her sort-of girlfriend? She won’t admit it, but I can’t think of any other reason she’d be upset right now. So that’s a mess.”
“That is a mess,” I said, stepping away. “There. Fly free.”
Felix stepped out of the dress with care, which would have been exaggerated for a more graceful person. “Thanks.” He tugged on his shirt before looking over his shoulder at me. I was pointedly studying the fake door I had changed behind. “Soooo, if you were actually a jerk, you wouldn’t help me. You’d tell me to go hang myself out to dry.”
“And you’d sound like an actual human being instead of a sprite if you swore once in a while, but no one makes sense all the time.” I took the dress before he could trip over it. “I’ll hang this for you. Scat. Go play damage control.”
Felix hesitated while I tucked the train of the dress up so I wouldn’t rip it either. But when I glanced at him, he scooted back. “I’ll see you in a little bit then, I guess.”
