Autoboyography
Page 6
As if on cue, Hailey materializes from behind me, dropping a giant heap of black fabric in Mom’s arms. “I didn’t like any of the pants, but those shirts are cool,” she says. “Can we eat? I’m starving.”
Mom looks down at the load in her arms. I can see her mentally counting to ten. As long as I can remember, our parents have encouraged us to be ourselves. When I started questioning my sexuality, they told me their love for me was not dependent on where I stick my dick.
Okay, they didn’t use those exact words; I just like saying it.
Last year, when my sister decided she wanted to start looking like a corpse, they bit their tongues and encouraged her to express herself however she wanted. Our parents are saints when it comes to patience, but I’m getting the sense that this patience is wearing thin.
“Three shirts.” Mom hands it all back to Hailey. “I told you three shirts, two pairs of pants. You already have a dozen black shirts. You don’t need a dozen more.” She turns back to me, thwarting Hailey’s rebuttal. “So, biology makes you sleepy. What else?”
“Auddy should stick with Modern Lit. It’s going to be an easy A.”
“Oh. Our Seminar TA is super-hot,” Autumn tells her.
As if moving on some protective instinct, Mom’s eyes slide to me and then back to Auddy. “Who is he?”
Autumn lets out a distractingly breathy sound. “Sebastian Brother.”
Behind us, my sister groans, and we turn, waiting for the inevitable. “His sister Lizzy is in my class. She’s always so happy.”
I scoff at this. “Gross, right?”
“Tanner,” Mom warns.
My sister shoves my shoulder. “Shut up, Tanner.”
“Hailey.”
Autumn works to diffuse this by redirecting us to the point at hand: “Sebastian took the class last year. Apparently his book was really good.”
Mom hands me a paisley T-shirt that is so hideous I won’t acknowledge it. She thrusts it at my chest again, giving me mom face. “Oh, he sold it, right?” she asks Autumn.
Autumn nods. “I hope it gets made into a movie and he’s in it. He has this floppy soft hair and his smile . . . God.”
“He’s a splotchy boy blusher,” I say before I can think better of it.
Beside me, Mom stiffens. But Auddy doesn’t seem to hear anything odd in what I said. “He totally is.”
Mom hangs the shirt back up and laughs tightly. “This one might be a problem.”
She’s looking at Autumn when she says this, but I know without question she’s speaking to me.
• • •
My interest in Sebastian Brother’s visible attributes hasn’t diminished by class on Friday. For the first time since I moved here, I’m struggling to fly under the radar. If it were a female TA I was attracted to, it wouldn’t be a big deal for someone to occasionally catch me staring. But here, with him, I can’t. And the effort it takes to play it cool is frankly exhausting. Fujita and Sebastian make regular rounds of the room while we jot down ideas in any manner that works for us—outlines, random sentences, song lyrics, drawings—and I’m basically doodling spirals on a blank sheet of paper just to keep from tracking his movement. Beside me, Autumn pounds out what seems like thousands of words per minute on her laptop without coming up for air, and it’s distracting and maddening. Irrationally, I feel like she’s sucking my creative energy somehow. But when I stand to move to another part of the room for some space, I nearly collide with Sebastian.
Chest-to-chest, we stare at each other for a few seconds before we take a step back, in unison.
“Sorry,” I say.
“No, no, it was me.” His voice is both low and quiet, and it has this hypnotic rhythm to it. I wonder whether someday he’ll give sermons with that voice, whether he’ll throw down judgment with that voice.
“Fujita said I should work with you more closely,” he says, and I realize now that he was coming over to talk to me. The blush pops in a warm bloom across his cheeks. “He said you seemed to, um, be a little behind on the plotting stage and I should brainstorm with you.”
Defensiveness and nervous energy creates a strange brew in my veins. We’re only three class sessions in and I’m already behind? And to hear it from him? This buttoned-up Bible-thumper I can’t get out of my head? I laugh, too loudly. “It’s okay. Seriously, I’ll catch up this weekend. I don’t want you to have to take time—”
“I don’t mind, Tanner.” He swallows, and I notice for the first time how long his throat is, how smooth.
My heart hammers. I don’t want to be this affected by him.
“I need to sort it out in my own head,” I say, and then push past him, mortified.
I’d expected Sebastian to be a short fascination, a single night of fantasizing and that’s it. But even watching him move through the classroom rocks me. Standing so close to him nearly sent me into a breathless panic. He has command of the space he occupies, but it isn’t because he’s an imposing jock, or somehow bleeding macho into the room. The light just seems to catch his features differently than anyone else around us.
Autumn follows me over a few minutes later, putting her hand on my arm. “You okay?”
Absolutely not. “Totally.”
“You don’t have to worry about how far ahead everyone else is.”
I laugh, brought back to the other stress: the novel. “Wow, thanks, Auddy.”
She groans, dropping her head to my arm, laughing now too. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
When I glance to the side, I see Sebastian just before he looks away from us. Auddy stretches, kissing my cheek. “Still up for Manny’s birthday party tonight?”
Laser tag to celebrate turning eighteen. Only in Utah, man. “I don’t know.” I like Manny, but in all honesty, I’m merely human. I can stomach only so many nights of laser tag.
“Come on, Tann. Eric will be there. I need someone to hang with so I have something to do besides look awkward in front of him.”
High school is such an incestuous little pool. Autumn has a thing for Eric, who is pining over Rachel, the sister of the girl I kissed after homecoming last year and who I’m pretty sure dated Hailey’s best friend’s brother. Pick almost anyone here and it’s like six degrees of second base.
But it’s not like there’s anything better to do.
• • •
The sound of music and electronic chimes seeps through the double glass doors outside Fat Cats. The parking lot is packed. If this were any other town I might be more surprised, but it’s Friday night; miniature golf, laser tag, and glow-in-the-dark bowling are about as wild as it gets.
Autumn is at my side, and the light from her phone illuminates her profile as she does her best to type and walk across the icy sidewalk at the same time.
Looping my arm through hers, I guide her around a group of junior high kids with their eyes glued to their own phones and lead us both safely inside.
The year after we moved here, the Scott family drove in Dad’s Prius to Vegas for my aunt Emily’s wedding to her girlfriend, Shivani. Hailey and I were saucer-eyed the entire weekend: digital billboards, strip clubs, booze, and bare skin . . . There was a spectacle everywhere we looked.
Here, apart from the obvious differences, like sheer size and the distinct lack of scantily clad cocktail waitresses walking around, there’s the same kind of frenzy in the air. Fat Cats is like Vegas for kids and teetotalers. Spiral-eyed patrons slide token after token into blinking machines in the hope of winning something, anything.
Mom looks down at the load in her arms. I can see her mentally counting to ten. As long as I can remember, our parents have encouraged us to be ourselves. When I started questioning my sexuality, they told me their love for me was not dependent on where I stick my dick.
Okay, they didn’t use those exact words; I just like saying it.
Last year, when my sister decided she wanted to start looking like a corpse, they bit their tongues and encouraged her to express herself however she wanted. Our parents are saints when it comes to patience, but I’m getting the sense that this patience is wearing thin.
“Three shirts.” Mom hands it all back to Hailey. “I told you three shirts, two pairs of pants. You already have a dozen black shirts. You don’t need a dozen more.” She turns back to me, thwarting Hailey’s rebuttal. “So, biology makes you sleepy. What else?”
“Auddy should stick with Modern Lit. It’s going to be an easy A.”
“Oh. Our Seminar TA is super-hot,” Autumn tells her.
As if moving on some protective instinct, Mom’s eyes slide to me and then back to Auddy. “Who is he?”
Autumn lets out a distractingly breathy sound. “Sebastian Brother.”
Behind us, my sister groans, and we turn, waiting for the inevitable. “His sister Lizzy is in my class. She’s always so happy.”
I scoff at this. “Gross, right?”
“Tanner,” Mom warns.
My sister shoves my shoulder. “Shut up, Tanner.”
“Hailey.”
Autumn works to diffuse this by redirecting us to the point at hand: “Sebastian took the class last year. Apparently his book was really good.”
Mom hands me a paisley T-shirt that is so hideous I won’t acknowledge it. She thrusts it at my chest again, giving me mom face. “Oh, he sold it, right?” she asks Autumn.
Autumn nods. “I hope it gets made into a movie and he’s in it. He has this floppy soft hair and his smile . . . God.”
“He’s a splotchy boy blusher,” I say before I can think better of it.
Beside me, Mom stiffens. But Auddy doesn’t seem to hear anything odd in what I said. “He totally is.”
Mom hangs the shirt back up and laughs tightly. “This one might be a problem.”
She’s looking at Autumn when she says this, but I know without question she’s speaking to me.
• • •
My interest in Sebastian Brother’s visible attributes hasn’t diminished by class on Friday. For the first time since I moved here, I’m struggling to fly under the radar. If it were a female TA I was attracted to, it wouldn’t be a big deal for someone to occasionally catch me staring. But here, with him, I can’t. And the effort it takes to play it cool is frankly exhausting. Fujita and Sebastian make regular rounds of the room while we jot down ideas in any manner that works for us—outlines, random sentences, song lyrics, drawings—and I’m basically doodling spirals on a blank sheet of paper just to keep from tracking his movement. Beside me, Autumn pounds out what seems like thousands of words per minute on her laptop without coming up for air, and it’s distracting and maddening. Irrationally, I feel like she’s sucking my creative energy somehow. But when I stand to move to another part of the room for some space, I nearly collide with Sebastian.
Chest-to-chest, we stare at each other for a few seconds before we take a step back, in unison.
“Sorry,” I say.
“No, no, it was me.” His voice is both low and quiet, and it has this hypnotic rhythm to it. I wonder whether someday he’ll give sermons with that voice, whether he’ll throw down judgment with that voice.
“Fujita said I should work with you more closely,” he says, and I realize now that he was coming over to talk to me. The blush pops in a warm bloom across his cheeks. “He said you seemed to, um, be a little behind on the plotting stage and I should brainstorm with you.”
Defensiveness and nervous energy creates a strange brew in my veins. We’re only three class sessions in and I’m already behind? And to hear it from him? This buttoned-up Bible-thumper I can’t get out of my head? I laugh, too loudly. “It’s okay. Seriously, I’ll catch up this weekend. I don’t want you to have to take time—”
“I don’t mind, Tanner.” He swallows, and I notice for the first time how long his throat is, how smooth.
My heart hammers. I don’t want to be this affected by him.
“I need to sort it out in my own head,” I say, and then push past him, mortified.
I’d expected Sebastian to be a short fascination, a single night of fantasizing and that’s it. But even watching him move through the classroom rocks me. Standing so close to him nearly sent me into a breathless panic. He has command of the space he occupies, but it isn’t because he’s an imposing jock, or somehow bleeding macho into the room. The light just seems to catch his features differently than anyone else around us.
Autumn follows me over a few minutes later, putting her hand on my arm. “You okay?”
Absolutely not. “Totally.”
“You don’t have to worry about how far ahead everyone else is.”
I laugh, brought back to the other stress: the novel. “Wow, thanks, Auddy.”
She groans, dropping her head to my arm, laughing now too. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
When I glance to the side, I see Sebastian just before he looks away from us. Auddy stretches, kissing my cheek. “Still up for Manny’s birthday party tonight?”
Laser tag to celebrate turning eighteen. Only in Utah, man. “I don’t know.” I like Manny, but in all honesty, I’m merely human. I can stomach only so many nights of laser tag.
“Come on, Tann. Eric will be there. I need someone to hang with so I have something to do besides look awkward in front of him.”
High school is such an incestuous little pool. Autumn has a thing for Eric, who is pining over Rachel, the sister of the girl I kissed after homecoming last year and who I’m pretty sure dated Hailey’s best friend’s brother. Pick almost anyone here and it’s like six degrees of second base.
But it’s not like there’s anything better to do.
• • •
The sound of music and electronic chimes seeps through the double glass doors outside Fat Cats. The parking lot is packed. If this were any other town I might be more surprised, but it’s Friday night; miniature golf, laser tag, and glow-in-the-dark bowling are about as wild as it gets.
Autumn is at my side, and the light from her phone illuminates her profile as she does her best to type and walk across the icy sidewalk at the same time.
Looping my arm through hers, I guide her around a group of junior high kids with their eyes glued to their own phones and lead us both safely inside.
The year after we moved here, the Scott family drove in Dad’s Prius to Vegas for my aunt Emily’s wedding to her girlfriend, Shivani. Hailey and I were saucer-eyed the entire weekend: digital billboards, strip clubs, booze, and bare skin . . . There was a spectacle everywhere we looked.
Here, apart from the obvious differences, like sheer size and the distinct lack of scantily clad cocktail waitresses walking around, there’s the same kind of frenzy in the air. Fat Cats is like Vegas for kids and teetotalers. Spiral-eyed patrons slide token after token into blinking machines in the hope of winning something, anything.
