In October, weannounced an exciting new projectfrom David Levithan and Nina LaCour.
Check everything out below, and pick up the book on June 7, 2016.
The whole spectrum is in attendance tonight, breathing in the rainbow air and dancing to the rainbow sounds.
Credit: James Rice
Thats what he wants.
I dont know what I want, so mostly I go along.
We just had to look like we knew what we were doing, and that got us in.
Where this leaves me, Im not exactly sure.
There is no way whatsoever to figure things out for someone else.
Even if hes your best friend who you always end up fooling around with.
Its really dark and there isnt much room to move.
Were getting plenty of wolfish looks from other guys.When theyre cute, I think Ryan likes it.
But I feel awkward.
There are some guys at the party who look like theyre auditioning for selfies.
The parties Ive gone to before have been held in basements and school gyms.
Now its like Ive walked into a wider, narrower world.
Robyn is singing about dancing on her own, and people are verbing their bodies along to that.
These are not the people I usually hang with.
We are not in Brewsters rec room, watching a Giants game.
This is not a beer crowd.
Everyone here is a cocktail.
Were not quite at the bar and not quite on the dance floor.
He cant be older than thirty, but he has bright silver hair.
I shout over the noise.
Im Mark, I say.
Ryan snickers at this.
Im thinking he cant be serious, but he takes out his card and gives it to me.
Before I can say anything else, theres the pop-burst of a flash.
Im still blinking in the afterglow when the photographer touches my wrist and tells me to email him.
Then he vanishes back into the crowd.
Are you talking to me?
Im afraid Im currently invisible.
Or at least Im invisible to noted fashion photographers.
I let the card drop to the floor and say, Whatever.
Ryan bends down, picks it up, and hands it back.
Keep it as a souvenir, he tells me.
I mean, its not like youre actually going to do anything about it.
Lets just say history is on my side.
And its especially painful when someone reminds me about it.
Can we look around some more?
Maybe dance a little?
You know I dont dance.
What he means is: He doesnt dance when other people are watching.
This was his excuse when I wanted to go to junior prom together.
In front of his parents.
But he wasnt going to go with me, either.
I ended up staying home instead.
I can understand not wanting to dance in front of everyone we know.
I can see thats a big deal.
But I was hoping it would be different here.
I was hoping that being among all these happy, happy strangers would pop the cork.
Cmon, I say, trying to keep my tone light.
Ryans eye has already moved elsewhere.
Hed be the apple of any bookworms eye hes much more Ryans bang out than Ill ever be.
He senses Ryan looking at him .
then senses me looking at him, and meets my eye instead of Ryans.
I quickly look away.
I saw him first, Ryan mutters.
I think he might be joking, but something in the pit of my stomach tells me hes not.
Then he says, Ohman.
Hat Boy leans in for a kiss and Clark gleefully obliges.
If it were manga, hearts would be rising like balloons over their heads.
Happy Happy is depressing depressing me, Ryan says.
You promised me fun.
romantic, I guess.
On the ride in, it was almost like that, like it was an adventure we were sharing.
I pressed my leg against his and he didnt move away.
(My mother gets upset when a pillow is out of place on the sofa.)
Now Im guessing we look like two friends.
I probably look like Ryans wingman.
I want a drink, he declares.
Youll get caught, I remind him.
No, I wont.
Some of us arent Timid Timmys.
I follow him as a he presses into the crowd and makes his way to the bar.
Would he wade back to find me?
Or would he keep going, because forward is his destination and I am not?
I falter for a moment, and in that moment, he reaches for my hand.
As if he senses my doubts.
As if he doesnt need to turn around to know exactly where I am.
As if everything weve been through has at least constructed this connection, this much of a bridge.
Stay with me, he says.
And when we get to the bar, Charming Ryan returns.
The shadows fall from his mood.
The bartender smiles; he cant help but like Ryan.
This is the boy I fell for, about eight years after we first became friends.
This is the boy who made me want to be who I am.
This is the boy I can borrow my confidence from.
Even though I dont drink, Ryan slides one of the glasses over to me.
Just one sip, he says.
If you dont, it wont be a toast.
Itll just be a burnt piece of bread.
I relent and raise my glass.
We clink, and then I sip while he downs.
When hes done, I give him mine to finish off.
I wish youd live a little, he says when the bubblys been popped.
What does that mean?
I ask, even though weve had this conversation before.
No, it is.
The degree to which you put yourself out there.
I have no idea why this has become the subject.
What are you talking about?
A failure to finish my champagne makes me what?
Its not just that.
He points his empty glass at the crowd.
This room is full of attractive men.
You are a fine specimen of boyness.
But youre not even looking around.
That guy gave you a card youll never use.
Other guys keep looking at you.
You could totally work it.
But you dont want to.
What would you have me do?
I spy the signup sheet next to his elbow.
Join the midnight underwear contest?
Dance around on the bar?
That isexactlywhat Id have you do!
So I can find a guy to hook up with?
Dont look at me that way were far from the only teenagers in this place.
Right could be right here, right now.
Cant you see its you?the part of me that should know better wants to ask.
But that, too, is against the rules.
I pull the ever-present pen from his pocket and write my name down.
Theres no way youll follow through on that.
Watch me, I say even though I know hes right.
Im fine in the locker room, or with Ryan.
That would seem about as likely as me going home with a girl.
Because the more he insists Im going to flake out, the more I want to prove him wrong.
Theres definitely a double standard here theres no wayhewould do it, either.
But Im the one whos been dared.
The bartender says well be starting in a minute.
Now or never, Ryan tells me.
From the way he says it, I can tell his moneys on never.
I kick off my shoes.
I cannot give myself any time to think about what Im doing.
It feels strange to be standing barefoot in the middle of a packed club.
The floor is sticky.
I pull my shirt over my head.
I am in my underwear.
I thought Id be cold, but instead its like Im feeling the heat of the club more fully.
All these bodies clouding the air.
And me, right at the center of it.
I dont think Id recognize myself, and thats okay.
The bartender calls out my name.
I hand my shirt to Ryan and jump onto the bar.
My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears.
There are cheers from the crowd, and the DJ throws Rihannas Umbrella into the speakers.
I have no idea what Im supposed to do.
I am standing on a bar in my red-and-blue boxer briefs, afraid Ill knock over peoples drinks.
Obligingly, the patrons pull their glasses down, and before I know what Im doing, Im .
Just not with an audience.
Not with people hooting and whistling.
Most of all I am looking at the expression on Ryans face, which is one of pure astonishment.
I have never seen his smile so wide or so bright.
I have never felt him so proud of me.
He is whooping at the top of his lungs.
I point at him and match his smile with my own.
I dance with him, even though hes down there and Im up here.
I take it all in.
The world, from this vantage point, is crazybeautiful.
Pairs of guys and pairs of women.
Young skateboarders and men who look like bank presidents on their day off.
Clark Kents in the crowd, looking me over.
When I see him, I swear he winks.
I feel my gaze pulling itself back to Ryan.
I feel myself coming back to him.
But along the way, someone else catches my eye.
Its like the song stops for a second, and Im thrown.
Because, yes, it has to be her.
Here, in this gay bar, watching me dancing near naked over a carpet of dollar bills.
The senior I sit next to in Calculus.
Chapter Two
Tell me about her again, I say.
I dont know if theres anything left to tell, she laughs.
Its okay if Ive heard it before.
She got home on Tuesday, Lehna says.
When I talked to her on the phone she was sewing sequins onto a scarf.
She says she likes to sparkle at Pride.
Do you think I look too plain tonight?
I am the opposite of sparkling.
I ended up choosing what I hoped would look a little bohemian, effortless but still put together.
A soft, light chambray button-up tucked into darker jeans.
A brown leather belt with a bronze buckle.
Long, diamond-shaped bronze earrings and bright red lipstick.
I put my hair into a loose side-braid that falls over my shoulder.
You look great, June calls from the back seat.
I would totally fall in love with you, Uma says.
Lehna says, Yeah.
You look a little bit European, which Violet will appreciate.
And after the performers shes been hanging out with, youll probably seem refreshingly normal.
That wordnormalit fills me with panic.
verify to remember to reapply your lipstick.
It brings out the green in your eyes.
I turn up the music and take a stab at calm myself down.
Out the window, the lights of the city spread before us, full of so much promise.
All the people in the cars around us are smiling or nodding their heads to music.
We are going out to celebrate ourselves and one another.
To fall in love or to remind ourselves of all the people weve loved in the past.
For me that would be a very short list.
Which is part of why tonight scares me so much.
Violets always been a source of fascination.
She used words likepassionateand phrases likelove affair.
Remember to call me Kate in front her, I say.
I exit onto Duboce.
Ive driven us to this house a few times.
Its a classic San Francisco Victorian with small rooms and high ceilings.
Lehnas friend Shelbie lives there along with a big chocolate Lab and parents who never seem to be home.
Violet knows her, too.
Shelbies mom and Lehnas mom and aunt go way back, I guess.
I know that its just a first meeting.
I know that Violet has already heard about me and that she wants to meet me, too.
I know that it shouldnt be the end of the world if it doesnt work out between us.
But the embarrassing truth is that I have far too much at stake to be casual about this.
Theres something I should mention, Lehna says as we make our way down Guerrero Street.
I may have told her you had a solo show coming up at a gallery in the city.
But I dont evenknowany galleries in the city, I say.
Well look up a couple places when we get to Shelbies house, okay?
Once Violet gets to know you she wont care about it anymore.
For now it makes you seem sophisticated and accomplished.
Here, park in the driveway.
Shelbie said it was fine.
I pull into the narrow space and park at an incline that seems perilous.
Lehna calls into the backseat.
Its time to get out of the car!
Lehna knocks on the window.
Come on,Kate.
Well be right back.
And then, even though I am right behind her, she says, Lets go,Kate.
Im about to ask why its so annoying to her; its my name, after all.
And its not like Ive decided that I want to be called something totally random.
Its just another form of Katherine, one I think might suit me better.
But I dont even need to ask her because I already know the answer.
But the thing is, I never chose to be called Katie.
I didnt choose to be friends with Lehna, not really.
You are not alone.
You have a friend.
And its only latermaybe even years laterthat you stop and wonder,Why this person?
This is such a bad idea, I say.
If she brings it up Ill just tell her that you misunderstood me or something.
Ill tell her that Iwantto have a show one day.
It isnt enough, Lehna says.
She turns in her swivel chair and looks at me.
You want this, right?
Yes, I say.
And I can see how much Lehna wants it to work out between Violet and me, too.
There must be some compromise we can reach, some in between.
I lean over the computer and key in,hair salon art gallery san francisco.
Lets start out a little more realistically, okay?
I find a trendy salon in Hayes Valley that features a new artists work every month.
Delicate line drawings with splashes of color.
Mostly portraits, some botanicals.
She clicks through some other links until she finds a list of San Franciscos best new galleries.
Look through this, she says.
Fine, I say, even though I know its a terrible idea.
Because what Lehna is telling me is that Im not enough for Violet yet.
But I dont have a show lined up yet, I tell Lehna.
Lets just say they went crazy when they saw your portfolio.
Its just a matter of time.
She reaches into her pocket for her phone and when she looks back up at me shes smiling.
Violets on her way, she says.
Maybe you could, like, reapply?
June and Uma are nowhere to be found.
Theyve probably snuck off to a bedroom.
Ill be right back, I tell Lehna and she nods and walks into the kitchen.
Out here feels worlds away from Shelbies living room.
A bunch of teenagers sitting around looking cool is nothing like the thrumming crowd on the street.
Here everything is electric and happy.
Even the vainest, most aloof-looking boys seem sweet.
And most of the people out here dont even have a barrier to break.
I dont know how long Ive been walking and I dont want to take my phone out to check.
I should turn back, but Im not ready to leave all of this yet.
I reapply my lipstick in the darkened windowfor myself, not for Lehnaand then I step inside.
Its so dark it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust but soon I spot the bar.
Ill just take a stab at get a drink, give myself some time to calm down.
Then Ill walk back to the house, ignore Lehnas disapproval, and meet Violet.
She locks eyes with me and nods a nod that means shell take my order.
I lean over the bar toward her until our faces are close.
She tips her head to the side so that shell hear my voice over the music.
Lehna learned this from her older sister and taught me how to say it with confidence.
Its the only drink I know how to order.
The bartender turns away from me and grabs the green bottle and a glass.
Meet me here?I would say:Ive been really looking forward to meeting you.
I avoid looking at my lit-up phone as I dig in my purse for my wallet.
Then I make my way to a tall table with a single bar stool.
I take my first sip as the paper-doll bartender makes an announcement and cheering follows.
Hes just doing his thing, singing along.
I sing along with him.
He points into the crowd and I see a dark-haired boy whoop back at him.
And its crazy, but Iknowthat boy.
Hes a junior; his name is Ryan.
He used one of my landscapes for the cover of the literary journal last semester.
AndOh my God its Mark Rissi.
Weve never even talked, but we sit next to each other in Calc.
Now the song is over and the crowd is going crazy.
When Mark reaches my table, hes still fumbling with his belt buckle.
He stops in front of me and says, Oh my God.
All of that confidence and happiness is gone, and I want it back for him.
I want it back for all of us.
I feel like we share something, in what were missing right now.
Hey, Mark, I say.
He nods but all he says, again, is Oh my God.
I have something serious to ask you.
My heart is pounding because Im not the kind of person who just opens up to anyone.
c’mon Mark starts.
But I am not a ruiner of squeaky-clean reputations.
Im ready to move on to bigger things with him.
So I cut him off and say, I thought it was an excellent performance.
By the time you leave Im sure that every available guy in here will have given you his number.
Ryan appears next to us.
Its my fault, he says.
I kind of coerced him into doing it.
God, you two, I say.
I wont tell anyone.
But, Mark, just listen, okay?
Because Im about to ask you something and, like I said, its a serious question.
Marks panic fades into relief.
He sighs and runs his hand over his face.
When he looks at me again, he is ready to listen.
Do you want to be friends with me?
He cocks his head.
I know that makes me sound like Im in preschool or something.
Which is why Im at a bar by myself on a night when everyone else is with other people.
Uhm, Mark says.
I mean, if you want to?
I just ran away from a girl I dont know yet, I tell him.
She sounds that bad?
No, I say.
Shes supposed to change my life.
Shes all I can think about all the time, I say.
Yes, he says.
No, he says.
I dont think I work that way.
I didnt think I did either.
Ive been waiting for this night for months.
And then, I just .
I feel my eyes well up.
Wait, wait, wait, he says.
Where were you supposed to meet her?
Okay, and is it close?
Yeah, just through the park and over a few blocks.
Has anyone tried to get in touch with you?
Im afraid to look.
Then hand it over.
Whoa, he says, the light of the screen illuminating his face.
Twenty-three texts from Lehna Morgan.
Want me to read them all or just the highlights?
He scrolls down the list.
Theyre mostly variations on Where the fuck are you?
A few Are you okay?s
Keep going.
One says, Violet just got here.
Is that the girl?
Okay, hold on.
About five minutes ago.
Is she coming back?
I look down into my drink.
Just some remnants of ice cubes.
Maybe I should order another one.
Or, we could venture to find her.
Marks face is open, hopeful a perfect antidote to the despair slowly settling in me.
Mark, are you still out there?
Get your all-American sexy butt up here to collect your prize.
And then the music is loud again and everyone is dancing.
Arent you gonna go up there?
The prize could be something good.
You know, penis-shaped lollipops, rainbow-patterned condoms .
But Mark doesnt laugh.
One song fades into the next and Tattoo Boy and his friends are feeling it.
Ive probably kept Mark to myself for too long.
You should go over there, I say, but Mark doesnt even seem to hear me.
That despair I mentioned I was feeling?
Its like it has suddenly become contagious, taken over Marks entire body.
His shoulders are slumped, his breathing seems labored.
Its Ryan, he says, so quietly I can barely hear him.
