Chapter 2 #2
Rows of chairs stretch out before me, filled with eager faces I don’t recognize. I pull at the edge of my ponytail and twist a strand of hair around my finger. The air is electric with anticipation, as if they expect me to reveal some fundamental truth that will change the course of their lives.
“Well, the key to success is to always be yourself.” I gaze out at the crowd, but the words get stuck in my throat. “Don’t be afraid to show the world who you are.”
Ha, isn’t this shit ironic.
I didn’t even write this speech.
And I just put out a video saying that I liked that post by accident.
“Hey, I wanted to clear the air. I liked that post by mistake! I was jetlagged and scrolling on my phone. I just flew home after shooting the music video for ‘Midnight Moonlight.’ We’ve been working really hard on it, so I hope y’all will tune in to watch it when it premieres!
And maybe, just maybe, I’ll have a surprise for you soon? ”
I’ve never wanted to delete a video so fast after posting. Or my entire account. I just don’t want to be perceived right now. I technically didn’t say I wasn’t aroace, but I also didn’t say I was.
“Always be yourself.” Ms. Williams snaps me out of my reverie.
She looks at the crowd of students. “Such great advice. It’s hard to remember that when you’re young.
Don’t compromise who you are for someone else.
Although Sasha here has always been vocal about who she is.
I remember, as a student, her passion was inspiring.
” She gives me a complicit smile. By passion she probably means how I used to ditch class and hide in the music room so I could play the grand piano.
She often caught me and scolded me, but she always helped me figure out difficult parts in my arrangements.
“That’s how you got so successful, my dear.
” She leans forward and squeezes my hand, her eyes shining with pride.
Always be yourself. I want to laugh. I can’t be myself and have a career, apparently.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s probably Mia. She’s called me like five times today, but I haven’t had time to call her back yet. I’m assuming she’s read the news.
“Never mind. You know, I’m actually lying.
” The words come out before I can stop them.
It’s always like this when I’m nervous. My heart just cracks open.
“And I think we all know I am.” Whispers echo across the gym, and people pull out their phones to record.
“I went to school here, so can I be honest with you? The key to success is just plain luck. And sure, talent. But there are plenty of talented folks who don’t make it.
And plenty of average people who do, just because they’re lucky and privileged.
I’m privileged. I’m white and I have a family who was able to support me financially.
I started on social media for fun, and I had the time to be creative.
My music going viral was luck. I’m sure there are other people out there who are far more talented than I am.
So in a way, I’m a fraud, I guess. Most people who get famous are, so don’t look up to them. ”
The crowd laughs. They don’t know I mean it. I’m a fraud. This morning I realized that. Seeing how people would react if I came out. Without the drama behind my private life, without people wanting to meet the boyfriend, I wouldn’t have a career at all. It’s not my music that’s good; it’s the tea.
“I don’t have any advice to give you. I really don’t.
I’m just a few years older than you, and I’m still trying to figure things out.
But if you’re lucky enough to get a chance to do what you love, don’t waste it.
As my mom says, life has no meaning until you find your own.
It’s like staring at a blank canvas. It means nothing until you paint it.
So, I guess … my advice would be to paint your own canvas and find out what it means.
Don’t let society tell you what your painting should look like. ”
The crowd erupts into cheers. I tense at the sea of phones pointed at my face, and I can feel Marissa’s presence behind me, drilling a hole through my skull. She hates it when I go off-script.
After the speech, I’m escorted to a meet and greet at the other end of the gym.
A red carpet has been laid out, and a couple of chairs and a table wait there for people to take pictures with me.
Usually I enjoy these events. It gives me an opportunity to interact with fans face-to-face.
But today it feels like I’m standing on a precipice, and the crowd is closing in, as if they want to push me over the edge.
When did I become so known that casual meet and greets became a scene from a zombie movie?
“Oh my God, I love you.” A girl squeals as she hands me a pencil case to sign. Noises buzz around me, and I have to focus to understand what she’s saying. “‘Summer Blues’ is like … my favorite song of all time.”
“Thanks!” I pose for a selfie. “Are you a junior?”
“Senior.”
“Do you still have Mr. Smith for history?”
“Is it true that the boyfriend used to go to our school?” another girl asks out of the blue. “Or is he another singer? My friends and I have a theory.”
“Um, well—” My cheeks burn. On instinct, my eyes dart around the gym, searching for the out-of-service fire exit.
It used to be my way to sneak out undetected, but I guess the undetected part is impossible now.
All I see in front of me is an overwhelming wall of excited faces staring right at me.
The way everyone’s energy seems to converge on me is suffocating.
“Wait, is it … true that you’re aroace?” a guy asks. Instinctively, I look for Marissa for reassurance, but she left to go to the bathroom. “It was everywhere this morning.”
“For real?” A group of girls snickers, throwing a not-so-subtle look in my direction. I gulp, peeling my eyes away.
“I liked the post by mistake.” My throat tightens.
I sound like a broken record. There’s no end to the line of people waiting to see me.
I’m cocooned in a storm of noise, and the air feels so hot around me.
I motion as if to stand up from my chair.
Beside me, my two bodyguards perk up. “Guys, mind if I take a little water break—”
“There’s no boyfriend? It’s all made-up?” The look of disappointment on the student’s face makes my heart sink. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
“I—”
Fuck, I did not prepare for this. I don’t know what to say. The centrifuge is spinning too fast. I can’t make it stop. I can’t catch my breath.
The overhead lights make my skull pulse, and my palms grow clammy as the sea of people press closer. I hate this. I just need a moment. One moment to breathe and I’ll be fine.
“Okay … give Sassy some breathing room, guys.” One of my bodyguards (I wish I could remember his name, but I only met him an hour before this event) steps forward, forcing the crowd to move back.
“No, it’s okay, I just need a moment—”
The room begins to spin around me. Then, as if echoing the loudness of my thoughts, the shrill wail of the fire alarm breaks through the frantic screams.
What?
I glance around, searching for the source of the commotion. There’s no smoke, but the teachers begin to evacuate the cramped gym. Is this a drill? A false alarm?
Panic courses through me as the sprinklers go off.
Cold water splatters against my skin, seeping through my clothes.
My guards flank me, rushing to escort me outside as students run for the exit, shielding themselves from the downpour.
Bodies slam against me as I’m pushed toward the door, and the weight in my chest doubles, an anchor slowing me down until I can’t move.
There are so many people … everywhere. I just need a moment to be alone.
Through my peripheral vision, I catch a glimpse of the out-of-service fire exit.
It dawns on me then that I have free will, and no one is paying attention to that door.
I could just … leave.
My feet come to a halt, and I make a split-second decision.
Ignoring the shouts of my bodyguards, I turn and push through the throng of people in the opposite direction.
Water pelts me until I’m drenched and shivering, but my mind is focused on one thing—the out-of-service fire escape on the other side.
I yank the door open, stepping into an unlit stairwell, the coolness of the metal railing beneath my shaking hands a soothing relief.
The sprinklers haven’t gone off here. My heart races as I remember the layout of the school.
I take the stairs two at a time, the echo of the alarm getting lost in the background.
I don’t know what I’m doing, or where I’m going, but the adrenaline coursing through me pushes me forward.
Marissa is probably frantic right now. I can’t bring myself to care.
As I reach the ground floor, I push through the door and burst into the open air. The pungent smell of garbage hits me, but relief washes over me. I’m alone.
I lean against the brick wall, struggling against my soaked clothes.
My chest heaves as I push out ragged breaths, willing my legs to stop shaking.
I want to scream or kick something, but I can’t move, I can’t think, so I just slide to the ground and hide my face between my knees, making myself small until the world stops pulsing in my ears.
I’m not sure how long I stay like that.
When I look up finally, I spy the 7-Eleven across the road, where Kai and I used to buy snacks and accidentally got drunk on White Claws once.
Kai. The name spears through me like a dagger to the heart.
So many of the pivotal moments that make me me are ones I shared with him and Mia.
It’s been over two years since I’ve seen him.
Mia used to be the one who filled me in on his life, but that was before she left for college.
I have no idea where he is or what he’s been doing, but it’s no wonder he hates me—
“Hey,” a voice says behind me.
For a moment, time stands still, frozen in a thread-thin spell. I don’t move. I don’t turn. That voice …
“Kai?” I whip around, if only to confirm I’m not experiencing some sort of auditory hallucination. But there he is, standing right in front of me in dark jeans and a leather jacket.
As if I’ve summoned him from a dream. Or a nightmare.
“Sash.”
I shoot to my feet. Reality comes into focus, and my chest floods with a blend of emotions—shock, lingering hurt, a touch of fond annoyance.
Kai flashes a smirk, his voice deeper and more guarded than I remember.
It still carries a sense of familiarity.
It anchors me to the ground, and suddenly I’m no longer spinning.
There’s just me and him, standing between the garbage cans.
My eyes rove down his figure. Back then, my five foot seven was almost on par with his five ten, but now he towers over me, at least a head taller.
His features have sharpened, his full cheeks replaced by a more mature, V-shaped face with multiple silver piercings across his earlobes, bringing out the deep golden undertones of his light brown skin.
His hair, faded in the back, falls across his forehead in dark brown waves and is tied back in a tiny ponytail. But the intensity in his eyes remains.
“Long time no see,” he says.
My feet edge forward, my arms opening slightly, as if reaching for a hug, but I force myself to stay put. The last time we spoke, it wasn’t pretty. We both said things. The memory is fresh, wounds that haven’t healed yet.
I don’t know why or how he’s here right now. Whether he still hates me.
Kai’s voice breaks the stunned silence. “I know. I’ve gotten so much hotter since you last saw me, but I did not trigger the fire alarm just for us to get caught.”
“Wait, you pulled the fire alarm?” I’m trying to keep up, but moving through the static in my brain feels like wading through mud. “How are you even here?”
“I was in the neighborhood.” He shrugs. “I go to college nearby.”
I want to ask him what his major is, but I’m still reeling from how he seemingly popped up out of nowhere. Also, what the fuck does he mean by I was in the neighborhood?
“We gotta run” is all I manage to say. It won’t take long for Marissa and my bodyguards to find me. “I’m pretty sure there are paparazzi by the main entrance. I don’t want them to find me.”
I can’t go back to the wall of people and noise.
“Yeah, your makeup is running and you kinda look like the raccoon that used to hide in your backyard,” Kai jokes, but his body language betrays his nerves. His sneaker taps an anxious rhythm against the ground, and his dark brown eyes flit about, scanning our surroundings.
“It’s been a long day.” I roll my eyes. Always so direct. Some things never change.
“Sasha, you look like you haven’t slept in days.” Kai’s eyes cloud with worry, and I fight the urge to turn around. My hair is plastered across my forehead, and there are shadows under my eyes from the sleep I still need to catch up on.
“You coming or what?” I say, stomping forward.
“Coming? Coming where?”
“I don’t know.” I stop in my tracks, scanning the road. I have no idea where I’m going. All I know is that I need to leave. My heart will give out if I stay here a minute longer.
“How about some Froyo?” Kai holds his hand out to me and grins. There’s a certain fondness to it. The corners of his lips twitch, revealing the dimple that forms near his cheek.
I used to poke it with my finger.
As we step onto the main street, I spot a motorbike parked away from the garbage cans.
I recognize it immediately. His grandpa’s bike—vintage, with a polished chrome finish, gray paint and shining spokes.
Kai used to dream of owning it one day. It always felt like a distant fantasy, but he must have gotten his license at some point.
“Sash?” Kai tosses me a helmet, but a thousand questions flit through my mind. I don’t know where we stand, or what the hell he wants from me, but every doubt in my body is overrun by the quiet reassurance of his presence beside me.
“You’d better not kill us.” When I take his hand, it feels both familiar and terrifying. I return his shit-eating grin. “What’s up with the fuckboy hair anyway?”
“It’s called style. You should try it sometime.”