Chapter 3 (Rough Draft) of my Debut YA Novel- Get rough draft of chapters 1&2 at this link: Â Â http://folkbydefault.tumblr.com/post/147247245969/figured-id-post-the-first-two-chapters-of-the
I was sorta doing math homework on the couch. I mean I was trying but I was confused and bored and who even gives homework on the first day? Apparently this is something that happens to sophomores a lot, because âjunior year is an essential year when it comes to getting into college,â according to Ms. Prescott.
She kinda reminds me of Ms. Darbus for High School Musical because of all her rules and the way she talks like she knows eveerryyythiiiinng. And so now Iâm kind of afraid that Iâm gonna call her Ms. Darbus in class, which would be slightly embarrassing and also she would probably get mad because she seems to do that a lot; I can already tell.
Like you know how in elementary school you were always sorta scared of accidentally slipping up and calling the teacher âMomâ or âDadâ or whatever? Maybe that was just me. But itâs kinda like that feeling, except now Iâm scared Iâll call my math teacher Ms. Darbus.
Omigosh Iâm such a dork. Like, this wouldnât be a problem for me except that Iâm a total Disney dork. But whatever.
So yah, like I said, Iâm trying to do my math homework, but Iâm more into classes like history and shop class and stuff like that. I made so many beautiful birdhouses in that class back in sixth grade; I even went through this phase where I thought I might be a professional birdhouse-maker. But then the kid who sat next to me was like, âThatâs not a thing.â
And I was like, âYah it is. I could be the Picasso of birdhouses, Megan. I could get in the MOMA and then all the cool New Yorkers with the beanies and the messenger bikes would go watch Yoko Ono do a performance art piece and then theyâd all fight to take selfies next to my legendary birdhouses. Iâd be the Shakespeare of birdhouses, Megan.â
Then she asked me what a MOMA is and I just rolled my eyes and figured she didnât understand life.
I know, I know. Sometimes I was kind of a petty sixth grader.
So now fast forward five years: Itâs the first day of sophomore year and Iâm trying to do my math homework, and Chrissy is playing SpongeBob on the TV, so itâs hard to focus because the âKrusty Krab pizza! Is the pizza! For you and me!â episode is on where theyâre delivering pizza in the desert and itâs my all-time favorite.
So weâre watching SpongeBob and then it goes to commercials, and then I guess Iâm ârepeatedly sighing and tapping my pencilâ because Chrissy goes, âOkay, whatâs with the repeated sighs and the loud pencil tapping?â
I look down at my hands and sheâs right; Iâm like banging my pencil against the coffee table. Subconscious nervous habit, I guess. So I put down my book and pencil and fold my hands on my lap and answer, âNothing. Iâm fine.â
Chrissy knows me too well though. What is it with my friends knowing me better than I know myself? Itâs like they can see inside my dreams while Iâm asleep or something, and then I wake up and I forget everything but they all have the inside scoop.
Omigosh that could totally be a blockbuster science fiction movie, but is it original enough? Because wasnât The Giver a little like that? The last thing Iâd want for the critics to think is that Iâm trying to copy The Giver, because I do not want to make my debut as a screenwriter/director/producer/movie star/all-around film mastermind as âthe guy who rips off other peoplesâ books and movies.â Because then what if I get like, only one star in Rolling Stone or something? I would die. I mean, bad reviews happen to the best of us and sometimes critics just have bad taste, and I get that, but I mean, one star for unoriginally?
But maybe nobody can see inside my dreams anyway, because honestly, I think it might be more likely that Iâm just unknowingly wearing my heart on my sleeve all the time.
Whatever reason is behind it though, it still feels like people can read my mind, because even though I said it was nothing, Chrissy would not let up. Instead, she goes, âItâs your love life.â
She didnât even ask me if it was my love life weighing on my mind; she just told me. Talk about being confident in your psychic abilities. So Iâm sitting there thinking, âAm I that transparent?â, and she says, âI knew it.â I sighed.
âYou saw Lance today, didnât you?â Thereâs no sense beating around the bush with this girl.
She cringed. âWhat a way to start the day.â
âThe day? Chrissy, I started my whole school year with this. And you know this is supposed to be the year that everything changes. Remember? The year of redemption, like Sharpay Evans?â
Chrissy just stared at me.
âHigh School Musical 2? Itâs like, the first scene. Omigosh, how do you not remember this? Itâs when Sharpayâs standing at the locker on the last day of school, and sheâs trying to have a summer of redemption and sheâs plotting to steal Troy away from Gabriella and everything, and Ryan just doesnât get it, and then she slams the locker door and sheâs like, âItâs summer, Ry. Everything changes.â And then she puts on those amazing sunglasses and walks off into the summer air.â
âWait, is High School Musical 2 the one with the Humuhumunukanukaâapuaâa thing?â
âWe really need to brush up on your Disney movie knowledge like STAT.â
âOkay, fiiinnnee. But Tyler, you do realize that just because you saw Lance this morning and had to get reminded of that really nasty breakup doesnât mean that it has to set the tone for your whole sophomore year, right?â
âTechnically, yah. ButâŠdo you think itâs a sign?â
âNo way. Lance was the dark before the rainbow.â
I laughed. âIâd say Lance and I were the rainbow. Which reminds me, itâs kind of a bummer how we didnât even last long enough to go to Pride together. Thatâs always been one of my dreams, you know? Celebrating Pride with the person Iâm proud to love.â
âYou never loved Lance, Tyler. It was three weeks.â
âI know, I knowâŠwhy havenât I fallen in love yet?â
âBecause youâre young, and itâs only up from here.â
âYou know, if you told your parents-â
âUuuuggghhhh. I knooooowwww. I will.â
âThen you could talk to them about this stuff. Theyâre really good at this kind of advice, Tyler, trust me. Theyâre like, my fairy godparents that way.â
âAnd any other kid in your position would give anything to have parents like yours.â
âOkay, I know you know. Iâm just reminding you, youâre a lucky kid. But Iâm meeting Felix and Steph tonight at the mall, so if you wanna come with Iâm gonna get going.â
âThanks, but I have to finish this math homework.â
She shut the TV off and went to get her coat.
âBlech. Iâll be back at like nine if you need help. See ya tonight!â And she was out the door.
The first annual burst of fresh fall air wafted into the house when she shut the door, and for a second I was in Heaven. Thatâs pretty much my favorite scent, along with pumpkin spice. So then I went to the island in the kitchen and decided to stir up a pumpkin spice iced latte while I contemplated my homework.
Convert to polar form: x^2+(y-6)^2=35
If Lance were still my math tutor this would be so much easier, because he was one of those cool math tutors who sorta just gave out all the answers. Probably because he was trying to show off and had a Kanye-sized ego, but still. (And yah, I now I wanted to be the Kanye of birdhouse-building in sixth grade, but just because I respect him as an artist doesnât mean  I canât also acknowledge that his ego is super-inflated.  I mean, an artist is not his or her or zir art. If that were the case, I doubt Seth Myers would ever have Quentin Tarantino on Late Night. Shiver. The very thought gives me chills.)
So did I mention before that Lance was my math tutor? Yea it wasnât official or anything; it was more of a Mean Girls-esque situation. (I was Lindsay Lohan and he was that Aaron Samuels dude.) Except in my case, I was definitely not faking the whole struggling in math thing. I mean, who does that IRL? I think intelligence is super hot, which I guess was one of the reasons I was into Lance. I just like it when a guy knows whatâs up, and so if I knew what was up in math class, I wouldâve wanted Lance to notice.
I probably wouldâve tried to bond with him over our mutual smartness, so then we could be that super-smart power couple around school and then we would be âthat couple.â You know what I mean? I feel like thereâs always that one couple in every high school where everyone just knows theyâre a couple, and theyâre both like really smart or cute or something like that. Like if I got invited to a party, everyone would just assume Lance would be there too, and vice versa, and my friends would be his friends and his friends would be my friends because we would be so tight like that. And weâd have all these cute selfies on Instagram and get each other cute sweaters for Christmas and get voted âcutest coupleâ in the yearbook senior year, and weâd be that couple that everyone just knows is going to last. You know?
When we first started dating, I was honesty foolish enough to think that for the rest of high school, maybe Iâd be able to watch everybody else going through it with love and romance and dramatic breakups and all of that, but I would get to escape it all. Iâd be watching from a distance, safely, because together Lance and I would have this island of everlasting love.
Barf. In retrospect, I hate that I thought that. Not only because Francesca and Chrissy are right about me never loving Lance, but rather loving the idea of loving Lance, but also because after everything that went down, itâs pretty clear to me at this point that Lance never even felt the same way. Iâm not going to say that he was completely leading me onâŠthere had to be some feeling there. Attraction to me being one of them. But also, lots of other conflicting emotions, and apparently not exclusive attraction to me.
Okay, I donât mean to be a hypocrite. Because have I found Derek Vega extremely attractive for the pastâŠwell like, since the very first day we met. And yes, Derekâs personality and intense talent also increase the whole attractive-o-meter by an infinite amount, but that doesnât necessarily mean I want to go out with Derek. Really, it doesnât. It just means that I have eyes, and yes, I had other crushes before Lance. So what?
Because when Lance and I started dating, all of my interest in everyone else ever went out the window, I swear. Itâs like I had this light switch that was on, and then when Lance and I started dating, I just turned it off, and voila, my eyes became only for Lance! Because my heart was only for Lance. Even though I didnât love him, like I said. I did like him, and I wanted it to work, and love takes time to grow, and commitment is a choice.
A choice that he didnât make.
Thinking back on the whole disaster, I wonder if him being my math tutor made our relationship uneven in some way. An uneven power dynamic. Maybe he thought that he was some kind of genius and I was just some sort ofâŠregular person. Like he thought he could pull one over on me. I mean, I still donât understand exactly what happened, but I will say this much: I donât buy his whole innocent-and-totally-not-a-liar-ex-boyfriend act for a second.
Because guess what, Lance? Getting a near-perfect score on your PSAT doesnât make you some kind of raging know-it-all in life. It just makes you good at math. Like a computer, or a calculator. Whoop-dee-doo. Honestly.
Maybe thatâs his problem. He doesnât have street smarts, because heâs just thinking in numbers and technical terms all the time, maybe. Because sometimes being in the wrong isnât about the technicalities; itâs about the subtleties, like the way you talk and when you decide to finally spill the truth and whether or not itâs the whole truth and stuff like that. Â I donât care if youâre innocent on a technicality if you did something that will obviously hurt my feelings/break my heart. Does he not get that?
And if heâs soooooo smart, then why hasnât he found a way to place third in a competition to open for Charli XCX?
        Anyway, I guess my mind started drifting off of my math homework when I was making my pumpkin spice iced latte, because I ended up thinking, âMaybe Chrissyâs right. Maybe my parents would be able to help me sort all of this stuff outâŠ?â
        Okay, so hereâs the thing with that. My parents are awesome. Like, seriously awesome, which is really rare for a fifteen-year-old kid to say, I know, but itâs true. Theyâre really progressive and open-minded, and if I came out to them, theyâd be ecstatic. Especially if I told them the story of how I came out to my entire high school. They like âthe movers and shakers of the worldâ, as my mom says, and they would be super proud of me, and theyâd probably call all their friends and tell them about it and tag me in all these Facebook statuses. Knowing my parents, I wouldnât be surprised if it ended up on the family Christmas card. Like, instead of a picture of a Christmas tree or a snowflake or whatever, it would be this picture of a giant rainbow, and it wouldnât say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays or anything; it would just be this message like, âHey everyone! Tylerâs queer!â And then in really tiny letters at the bottom, it would be like, âOh yea, also, seasonâs greetings and stuff.â
        Uuuuggghhh. At least Iâm lucky that the story of my coming out didnât get back to them. I was so nervous that it would for the whole week after I came out to my school, whenever the phone rang I was diving to answer to like, screen the calls and stuff, so no confidential information would slip out. It was breaking news, and I was paranoid.
        I really donât want to sound ungrateful. Iâm really grateful, and I love my parents, butâŠI donât want my identity to be âQueer Tyler.â I want my identity to be more like, â10 Time Grammy Award Winning Superstar EDM DJ Tyler who is also a Film Mastermind and Very Creative and Artistic Fashion Icon Tyler who just so happens to be queer.â I mean, obviously itâll take a few years to win ten Grammys, but you know. Eventually, thatâs eventually what I want my identity to be. And of course Iâm not opposed to giving back and doing philanthropic work for the LGBT+ community and all that, but itâs just that I donât want that to be all that there is to me. I donât want that to be the only thing that Iâm expected to do, or noticed for or appreciated for. I donât want all my hard work as an artist to fall under the radar, and I guess Iâm afraid that even though my parents mean well, they would make too big a deal out of my coming out. Theyâd start trying to get me involved in all these queer causes and all, which is cool like I said, but in the process itâs likeâŠwhat if they forget how much more to me there is? You know what I mean?
        See, my parents are a bitâŠunconventional. And New-Agey. Especially my mom. Not to say that my dad is conventional or conformist in pretty much any type of way, because heâs definitely not. Like, all I really have to do for you to get the picture is tell you the story of how they met.
        Actually, youâll never get the picture. My parents are way tooâŠwell, they march to the beat of their own drum to an extent that is probably very difficult for the average person with normal parents to understand. But let me tell you the story anyway so maybe you can begin to get an idea.
So my mom grew up in Los Angeles and went to The University of California, which Iâve heard is a total hippie school. But then after college she left for New York City to write for this alternative underground lifestyle magazine that doesnât exist anymore, but my parents say that it was really popular with young radicals and stuff for a while back then. So my mom was the paperâs in-house correspondent for all things feminist, and thatâs how she met my dad. Well actually the entire paper was feminist, and super into human rights and everything in general, but I mean my mom would literally seek out these women who threw their bras and hair curlers and everything into the âFreedom Trash Canâ at that iconic Miss America protest in the 60s, and she would interview them and everything. Sometimes she would just write these essays with her own opinions in them too, about closing the wage gap and the importance of Title IX and stuff like that.
        Meanwhile my dad had this column about his experiences as a queer, gender-nonconforming man in New York City. Aaaannnd then he met my mom. And they went out for coffee a few times to talk about social justice and whatnot. And then they went to go see a foreign film. And then they started dating. And the rest is history, and so here I am!
        Soooo yah. My dad says that back when he first met my mom, he was actually on the rebound from a serious relationship with some guy he met in college. He says he wasnât really in love with the guy, and he was the one who did the breaking up, but still, it hurt for a while, because when you have someone important in your life and then you donât anymore, thereâs always a bit of mourning involved. Thereâs suddenly an empty space where that person used to be, and even if youâve fallen out of love with someone, you can still love and care for them as a person and a friend.
        I wouldnât call Lance a friend, and Iâve never been in a relationship except for those three weeks with Lance, but I think Iâm starting to know what my dadâs talking about when he references that empty, blank space. Like that Taylor Swift song! My goodness, that girl really does have a song for every emotion ever.
        So my dad says that he was going on all these rebound dates and none of them were working out. Iâve read a lot of his columns from back then, and he writes a lot about how it was hard, especially back then, dating as a bisexual man, and especially being so gender-nonconforming, because he said that women would always just assume he was gay or they would feel insecure that he would âturnâ completely gay or something if he met a guy, or sometimes even when they knew he was into them it just didnât work out because a lot of women were just so taken aback by his âconnection with his feminine spiritâ, as he calls it. And he said that dating guys was hard too, because they would get afraid that he might âturnâ completely straight or something, and even some of them werenât completely comfortable with his androgyny.
        And sometimes, he says that he would go on a date and there was just no spark. And then he met my mom. But it wasnât right away, like, âOMG! This is totally the person Iâm going to marry!â It was more like, they were at the movies, and he asked if she wanted to get popcorn, and she said yes, but with no butter, and he liked the way that she just confidently stated her popcorn preference and didnât just go with the status quo. And then instead of soda, she got chai with almond milk, and he says he thought to himself that she was a true individual, and that this was exactly what he had been missing in his life, but he didnât even know it. He was still going on bad dates for like the first month of knowing her, and just hanging out with her as a friend, but then eventually he realized, âHey, the person Iâve been looking for has been right here, under my nose, this whole time!â
        My mom says that my dadâs androgyny was refreshing. She didnât have much of a relationship history before my dad because she says she was just focused on being an independent woman, but one time I met her old friend Jamie from college, who is gender-fluid, and I heard my mom and Jamie laughing about how they met on some blind date, but they totally werenât into each other that way, but then they became great friends. Soooo Iâm pretty sure my mom isnât entirely straight either, and so my parents kind of have this queer relationship, in a way, even though theyâre, like, my mom and dad. Which makes me feel like theyâll be super happy if they find out about my being queer.
        See because itâs not just them. Itâs like their entire friend-group. Itâs so weird: Lanceâs parents used to have these fancy dinner parties and I would get invited and it was sooo awkward, because it was like if I didnât say the exact right thing, they would all give me these funny looks. Like if I said âHey Lance, can I have some salt?â instead of âPlease pass the saltâ or whatever, Iâd be in trouble or something. Iâm pretty sure itâs because they were trying to impress their fancy friends. They had all these friends who would show up in sparkly jewelry and ties and everything, and the jewelry wasnât ever thrifted or knockoff or anything; It was real. And one time this one lady wore a real live fur coat, at the table and everything, which wasnât even necessary because the house honestly felt pretty warm.
        My parentâs friend-group is much different. Like, much, much, muuuucccchh different. First of all, no one would ever wear fur. At all. Half of them are vegans. And most of their clothes are from Buffalo Exchange, except for the people who only wear their own hand-sewn clothes, or clothes they got in New Hope or something. My parents both turned 39 just this past summer (their birthdays are a month apart), but theyâre like, a young 39. Like you know how Rachel Platten, the Fight Song lady, is 35 but she could totally pass for 25, because sheâs so youthful and energetic and pretty and fashionable and everything? Thatâs my parents.
        And you know how Rachel Platten is friends with Taylor Swift even though Taylor Swift is only 25 and still hangs out with people who just finished being Disney stars like Selena Gomez and people like that? Thatâs how my parents are. They have all of these really trendy friends and some of them are only a decade older than me, and theyâve all been to other countries and they know all about foreign food and indie rock and they have jobs where they work at record stores and give tattoos and teach yoga and reiki and meditation, and thereâs even this one girl whoâs a personal assistant to a famous rapper, except Iâm not allowed to say who it is because thereâs always soooo much drama surrounding him, and if it were leaked that she had âinsiderâ connections with him, all the reporters would be chasing her down and asking her questions about his life.
        So this is one of the reasons Iâve never really felt like an only child. Technically Iâm an only child, but Iâve never had that only child experience of not having to share or having all of my parentsâ attention or anything. There have always been people around, and I love it, because itâs like having a big, fun, hippie family. But the thing is that my parents still have a lot of LGBT friends from their days in college and in New York and all, who are  always coming around, so itâs not like itâs just my parents Iâm trying to keep my coming out story from. Itâs my parents and pretty much all of their friends. Because then theyâd all make a fuss over it.
        But I did tell Chrissy, because Chrissyâs different. Sheâs only nineteen, so sheâs like my sister almost, because itâs like if she were in my class at school or something Iâd totally hang out with her, but itâs also the best of both worlds because she can give me advice from an older and wiser more sage-like perspective than Andrew and Francesca can, because sheâs nineteen, and Iâm pretty sure thereâs a lot of stuff that happens between the ages of fifteen and nineteen. Sheâs a college sophomore, and that is so different from a high school sophomore. It has to be, because Iâm going to be a total superstar by the time Iâm her age, which means a lot has to happen between then and now. But I have faith that it will. After all, thatâs why sophomore year is the year of redemption.
        That is one convenient thing about having cool parents: They took Chrissy in the moment she asked, like it was no problem. When I think back to the days before she moved in, it just feels weird. There was nobody to have sleepovers with every night, and nobody to write songs with and help me with math and stuff all the time. I mean, I would see her on holidays and stuff, but aside from that it was mostly just Facebook messages and two-hour phone calls where we would fill each other in on our respective lives, which would usually consist of me telling her about whomever I was crushing on at the time looking at me in science class or something like that, and then quizzing her about it and being like,
âWere they looking at me on purpose, or were they just trying to look at the Bunsen burner and then I happened to be by the Bunsen burner and so their eyes just happened to rest upon mine?!?â And then she would be like,
âIs there really a difference, Tyler? Their eyes landed on you either way.â And I would be all,
âYes, Chrissy, there is a huge gigantic difference because looking at someone on purpose is waaayy different than looking at someone by accident. Like, SO different.â
So then we would analyze the situation from every possible angle, and then sheâd tell me stories about her long-term boyfriend that she had at the time, which was kind of boring because compared to my dramatic, up-and-down, rollercoaster love-life, her love life was soâŠmonotone. Like, she would pretty much just be like,
âSkylar and I are going to prom together!â, and I was like, âYahâŠ.thatâs what couples do. How is that exciting?â
I mean I didnât say this out loud, because thatâs mean, but thatâs just what I thought. But then again, at least she had actual concrete news to report. My âlove lifeâ, considering I was in like eighth grade, pretty much exclusively consisted of me becoming convinced that I was destined to marry someone in school who literally didnât know I existed, and then finally facing the fact that they didnât know I existed and deciding it simply just wasnât meant to be, mourning for like maybe four days, rinse and repeat. Not that itâs gotten much better, actually⊠Other than my three-week long relationship with Lance, the most interesting thing thatâs happened in my love life thus far since Iâve existed  has been my crush Lisa from back in sixth trade giving me a hug after this kid Corey  scored the winning goal in a soccer game. I mean, it really had nothing to do with me; Lisa was just hugging everyone because she was happy about beating the other team, because the kids on the other team were known to be really mean and to get away with handballs and going out of bounds without getting caught and just breaking lots of soccer rules. Their team was called The Soaring Eagles, and there were rumors that their coach was friends with lots of the refs in the Central Jersey K-6 Youth League, but I donât know. Other people just said that the kids who played for The Soaring Eagles were really sneaky and good at tricking refs.
But anyway, I was the goalie during that game, but it didnât matter because I never even touched the ball, because the goalie never touched the ball when Corey was on the field because Corey was like some kind of soccer-God who always kept the ball on the other teamâs end of the field. So when Lisa hugged me, it was nothing personal. She was hugging everyone on the team. I think she even accidentally hugged some kids on the other team too. But still, on a technicality, my crush hugged me.
Back in those days though, I used to have to call Chrissy and hope that she picked up the phone just to talk to her about this kind of stuff! But now that she lives with us, having her around is like having a built-in friend. So even if itâs kind of selfish of me to say, I am happy that her roommate situation freshman year went so terribly. Otherwise she wouldnât have decided to move out of the dorms and come live with us! (Sheâs from California, like my mom, but she goes to the College of New Jersey, so commuting from home wouldnât be an option. So instead she decided to move in with her aunt and uncle and cousin, aka me and my parents!!)
I guess my parents have settled down a bit though. When I see pictures of my mom from back in her days at the paper, she had her shaved and she was always wearing combat boots and fishnets andâŠwell my mom was pretty much an original foremother of the Riot Grrl movement, because she had that whole West Coast/East Coast double life thing going on in a way, having moved to New York from California, so she pretty much wore whatever she wanted, which very rarely lined up with what current fashion models were wearing at the time. So you know how other peopleâs moms have old college photos of themselves at football games wearing face paint and being school-spirited and wearing pretty bridesmaidâs dresses and all of those classic moments? Yea my mom doesnât have any classic-type photos like that. I mean, maybe her college graduation photo countsâŠbut even in that she was wearing black lipstick and she had charcoal lining her eyes and covering her eyelids. Like actual charcoal, all over her eyes. She did her own thing.
And she still does, but I guess itâs just likeâŠa more adult version of her own thing these days. Because I donât think the paper exactly brought in a lot of money or anything, which was fine before my parents started a family, but I guess when they started getting serious with each other and then the paper shut down they started realizing that maybe they had to start getting serious about their careers too. So these days my mom is a certified life coach, which is surprisingly lucrative. I think that a lot of people go to her because she grew up in Los Angeles, and there's this whole culture in Los Angeles of motivational speakers and life coaches and healers and all those people like that being really important. So I think people figure she grew up around this stuff and she knows sheâs talking about. Which she does.
I think maybe people also trust that she knows what sheâs talking about because she pretty much glows. She has hair again, and itâs reeeaaallly long and silky, and sheâs naturally blonde, but like with some natural highlights. Kind of like how hippies in the 70s would flat-iron their hair on ironing boards? Her hair just kinda naturally looks like that. I think itâs because sheâs so into health and fitness and wellness and everything. She does lots of yoga and spinning and resistance training because she says that being limber and strong increases confidence and makes you happier, which is what sort of got the ball rolling in my head that maybe I should start going to the gym every morning as part of my whole redemption thing.  She also says that feminism and health and animal right are all somehow interconnected, and so thatâs why sheâs always making kale smoothie and organic tofu scramble and stuff, and she tells me that if I read this book called The Sexual Politics of Meat: A Feminist-Vegetarian Critical Theory, Iâll understand what sheâs talking about. I donât know if Iâll read it, and I highly doubt they have it in the school library anyway, but⊠itâs pretty interesting to know that such a book exists.
My mom kind of reminds me of Gwyneth Paltrow actually, with all of her blonde hair and wellness knowledge, but I donât know if sheâd take that as a compliment or not, because I think itâs a compliment, but I know she wants to be her own woman and everything. She also sort of reminds me of Shailene Woodley, from The Fault in Our Stars, which definitely isnât my favorite work of John Greenâs, honestly. I much rather prefer The Last Song, but I do love Shailene, and she totally made me cry at the end. But I donât want to give away any spoilers. So moving on.
Then again, if my mom is Gwyneth Paltrow, does that make my dad Chris Martin? Because my dad really doesnât make me think of Chris Martin, like at all. When I look at old pictures of my dad, itâs kind of like looking at pictures of Adam Lambert. My dad sort of looked likeâŠhow can I describe it? A flamboyant vampire. But not like Edward Cullen. I just mean that he was very, very invested in âthe art of darknessâ when it came to fashion. Thatâs what he calls that look: âThe art of darkness.â He insists that fashion is an art. Which I canât disagree with.  But he had the eyeliner and the dark hair and everything. I mean the dark hair was just natural though, so I guess he just lucked out there. And my dad was a pleather guy. I know that when most kids see pictures of their parents wearing pleather pants itâs this whole mortifying experience, but my dad rocked them, I swear. Heâs always been slim, so maybe thatâs why. He and my mom actually wear pretty much the same size, so they would share a lot of clothes. They still do, actually.
But my dad was really into being showy about fashion sometimes too, kind of like me. Like, there were a lot of sparkles and neon involved along with the pleather jackets and scary charcoal eyeliner. (Yah my parents both wore charcoal.)  I think he was probably very inspired by David Bowie, and probably Elton John too, but then also The Cure and Siouxsie and the Banchees and people like that. He used to go to a lot of concerts  and black light  parties and raves and all, and he would have these glow-in-the-dark paint splatters all over his clothes, and he would have all these glow-in-the-dark bands around his head and thereâs even one picture where he had glow-in-the-dark earrings on. So I guess he was a pastel goth? I donât know if they had pastel goth people back then, but if they did, Iâm pretty sure he wouldâve been one. My dad says that people used to mistake his gender a lot because of his mannerisms and stuff like that, and also because he loved blue eyeshadow and red lipstick and his bright pink blazer. My dad was extremely progressive for his time. Even for New York City. He says he loved the way that his existence would make people question their perceptions of gender, and he and my mom both say that people were always confused when they went out together, because they always assumed that my dad was gay and that my mom was a lesbian. So my parents, and my dad especially I think, made some pretty powerful statements just by existing.
But these days heâs an English professor, at Chrissyâs college actually. So he tries to look a little more professional and a little less pastel-party-goth, so over time he seems to have traded in his sparkles and whatnot for quirky bowties and more professional-looking makeup and red corduroys instead of pleather. Heâs really adamant though about not conforming to the gender binary because thatâs just not who he is, and heâs always telling me that gender is a spectrum and I donât need to conform to the gender binary either, and when heâs feeling really philosophical heâll tell me that gender is a constellation, and that being a real man has nothing to do with complying with heteronormativity, and that if I turn out to not identify as a man, thatâs perfectly okay too and all of that stuff. And then he and my mom launch into their speech about how I can love whoever I want and I should never be afraid to talk to them and all of this stuff, and then the conversation usually wraps up with them inviting me to go volunteer at an LGBT homeless shelter or something, which I do because I like being a nice person, but then my mom usually uses that as a springboard to get me to help her out with baking her vegan chocolate cake for her weekly meditation group, which I do because itâs kinda fun and all, but then she invites me to go to the meditation group with her and Iâm just likeâŠ.When will they realize Iâm my own person?
So thatâs why I donât want to come out to them. Theyâre kind ofâŠoverbearing. And I know that theyâll be really proud of my bravery or whatever, which is great, butâŠI guess what Iâm saying is that there does come a point where maybe sometimes theyâre a little too proud of me. Like they wonât just let me go and live my own life. I know they donât mean to stop me from being my own person, but I donât think they realize how it feels.
