Chapter 19 #2
“In your dreams, man,” laughed Topher, taking another long guzzle.
“This is why I wanna run for the alliance leadership committee—I wanna get funds for a Masc Ball. Bring in gay dudes who look and act like real dudes from all over the city—actually attractive gays who are tired of the femmes taking over. We deserve a better level of dudes.”
There was an exuberant rumble of agreement from the others.
Lucas clasped his throat with both hands, pretend-gagging even harder. It was then that I made a silent vow to run against Topher, whatever position he decided to run for.
“I mean, case in point,” Topher continued, “did you see those two losers, Ben Limp and Pukeas Zhao, making out right in the middle of the gym? Since when is it cool for a couple of dorks to think they rule the school?”
At the sound of his degrading nickname, Lucas stopped making faces and went totally still.
I squeezed his hand reassuringly. It didn’t surprise me that Topher or any of those guys were saying these awful things—it had already been clear to me that this group thought this way, even if it was my first time hearing the words said out loud.
Besides, everything they were saying was so absurd—when had Lucas and I ever thought we ruled the school?
And since when were white cis boys the most underrepresented group in a queer community?
But I understand now that hearing all of this really shook Lucas to his core, more than I realized.
“But you know what?” said Topher. “It’s a good thing two guys like that found each other.
Because who else would date them? Everyone knows that this is the definitive ranking of the hottest type of guy …
” Topher then went on to rank racial and ethnic groups by their hotness.
I blocked most of it out, except for the very end.
“At the bottom of the totem pole—no pun intended—are obviously the Asians,” he said. “By a mile.”
“No rice or spice for me, please,” said one of the other dudes in a stereotypical East Asian accent, which made all of them bust out laughing.
I’d had enough. Fury rose to my cheeks and I stood up.
I opened my mouth to say something, make them feel like the racist idiots they were, threaten to expose their asses on social media, tell the teacher-chaperones about their drinking on campus, but Lucas shook his head frantically and clamped his hand over my mouth.
By the panic in his eyes, I could tell he was terrified to be seen by Topher and his friends in that moment.
We stayed silent until Topher and the others finished off the water bottle of boozy eggnog and left.
“What racist, homophobic assholes,” I finally blurted, as soon as they were out of earshot and Lucas took his hand off my mouth.
“Yep,” Lucas said quietly, frowning down at his feet.
“You know everything they say is complete nonsense, right, Lucas?” I said, my chest heaving in indignation. “It’s horribly offensive, but those are just the toxic opinions of the most ignorant, self-hating gay guys at this school.”
“Yep,” he repeated, but he wouldn’t look me in the eye. And when I tried to take his hand again, he snatched it away.
“We don’t need their approval. In fact, if we had it, I’d be worried about that.”
“Yep.”
I felt a lump in my throat. I opened my mouth, ready to explain that I was upset that Lucas had silenced me before I could call out those horrible jerks and put them in their place. I was far from brave, but it would have felt like doing something.
But seeing how crushed Lucas was made me hold my tongue.
When Lucas’s ride arrived first, I tried to walk him to the car, so I could kiss him good night and wish Vu happy holidays—but Lucas said, “I just want to be alone right now, okay?”
So I waved Lucas and his brother goodbye—Vu waved back, but Lucas looked away. As I waited for Mom, it dawned on me how few leading men in straight rom-coms were Asian; and it seemed we were just as rare in the gay ones I’d seen, too.
Looking back, that’s probably when Lucas started to pull away, and when I started to doubt that I could ever be the main character of a love story.
Even though we didn’t break up for another couple of months, and it was a few weeks before Tyler arrived, the night of the Alliance Holiday Bash was when it really ended.
“Hold on.” Tyler has stopped in his tracks. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone angrier. His right eye is quivering, practically bugging out, with fury. “Isn’t Jonah Cowles an Anti-Racist Peer Educator?”
“Yeah, and all his social media accounts are all about anti-racism, too. That’s why it was even more of a head trip for me. Ever since that moment, I started to think that maybe the whole gay world really does think I’m at the bottom of the gay hierarchy.”
“No, Ben,” says Tyler firmly. “The whole gay world definitely does not feel that way. Can I tell you, Ben—”
His hands ball into fists, and he looks like he wants to rip his own hair out.
“Sorry, I’m just so angry that you had to hear all that toxic bullshit. Can I tell you, Ben, just how much cooler, smarter, kinder, funnier, and more interesting you are than all those losers put together?”
His hands land on my shoulders. My mouth goes dry at the intensity of his eyes.
“I do know that, actually,” I say honestly.
In this moment, I’m so grateful that I was raised by Mom, who’s always reminded me that I matter just as much as anyone else.
And I’m so grateful for Dad, not just for affirming everything that makes me me, but for never sugarcoating the way our culture sees Asian boys and men.
Before he got sick, there were some days he’d come home from work, deflated, and tell me, “Sometimes they see us as well-behaved model minorities, Ben. But never let them forget you’re a human being who has passions and loves and flaws. Let them see your soul.”
Remembering this, I decide I’m not going to let Tyler off so easy. “But if that’s true,” I say, looking at him, “why do you hang out with Topher? You remembered he was a bully from when we were kids, but you’ve spent this whole semester being his friend.”
Tyler rubs his arms, squirming a bit. “Well, I wouldn’t say I’m his friend.
He’s on the basketball team and I guess we’ve spent a lot of time together just from that.
” He shrugs, and adds, “People like Topher—they’re sort of easy to hang out with.
You don’t really have to think that much, or be especially clever or interesting.
They’re always available, they make the really obvious joke, which I guess is kind of fun sometimes, they agree with you about everything … ”
I throw Tyler a look.
He says, “Well, not you, but me, I guess. Someone they want something from. I guess what I’m saying is they’re unchallenging. But you, you’re different. You don’t say the most obvious things at the most obvious times. You’re more challenging. You’re …”
“A tl;dr kind of person,” I say, grinning.
Tyler grins. “Exactly. Luckily, I like long novels with nine-hundred-word sentences.”
“Lucky for me,” I say, sighing with exaggerated drama. “Not everyone does.”
“Look, Ben … I should have said this earlier,” says Tyler, shaking his head. “But I didn’t know if you wanted to hear this from me. Lucas was completely out of his mind to break up with you. Especially for me.”
I feel the blood rush to my face. “Tyler, you don’t have to—”
“I one hundred percent believe what you’ve been through,” Tyler presses on.
“I’ve seen how queer people can be racist, homophobic, transphobic, everything else.
And it definitely happens in New York City, too—they just try harder to hide it.
Everyone knows what kinds of words you’re not supposed to say.
And contrary to what you said to me, I am aware of the effect I have on people. ”
“Oh God,” I say, burying my face in my hand. “I was wild for just blurting that out before. I didn’t really know you yet—from a certain point of view, I mean—and I was still in my feelings about Lucas …”
“No, you were totally fair to say that. I guess ever since I had my, uh … what should I call it? My, uh, growth spurt in seventh grade …”
“When you got super hot,” I help him out. I feel almost bad for how apologetic he looks to be admitting all this. “You can just say it.”
Tyler blushes, flustered and bashful. In this moment, I see the kid I hung out with in his tree house all those years ago, unsure of himself, afraid of climbing up the rope ladder.
“Well,” he says, “when I became what a lot of people seem to think is ‘super hot’ … I definitely noticed that the way people reacted to me changed. But the thing is, I didn’t change on the inside.
And I realized, eventually, that guys like Lucas just want to be with this, I dunno, idea.
Not with me but with the idea of me. They think life would be perfect if they’re with someone who looks like me and …
well, they’d be completely disappointed.
That’s why I’ve always been into guys who look nothing like me.
Why would I want that? I was raised by people who look like me, and I know for a fact that there’s nothing especially awesome about us. I mean, look at my dad.”
I laugh. I can’t even describe how much better I feel right now. It’s almost like I can feel the pain of being dumped by Lucas and all the little disappointments of life melting away and falling off my shoulders.
“I don’t know about everyone else who looks like you,” I say, “but you’re pretty cool. You might be especially magnifique.”
Tyler grins at me, and for the second time tonight, I wonder if he wants to kiss me. It’s like all the noise around us, the shouting and pumping bass beats coming from the clubs, goes on mute.
“That means ‘magnificent,’ ” I say unnecessarily.
“You’re such a mansplainer,” says Tyler.
I realize we’ve completed our loop and are standing in front of the bar.
We’re here.