February 27, 2011

Jerome:

"Hey, Mitch?" No answer, as usual. I know he's listening because he only has one earbud in while he edits. He's even more addicted to YouTube than I am, and that's not a compliment. "You going to Sadie's?" That gets his attention and he looks up at me like I just started cussing at him in Italian. He blinks at me for a few seconds before he goes back to editing, like nothing was even said. I wait him out and he snickers at me wanting a serious answer.

"No. Why the hell would I want to go to a dance? I don't have a girlfriend, dood."

"I know you don't. The other guys are going and I thought you might wanna go, too." He keeps clicking for a few more seconds before he glances up and sees me staring back at him.

"Jerome, the other guys have girlfriends. I'm not going to some dumbass dance alone."

"I mean, you wouldn't really be alone... We could go together." He peers up at me over the top of his computer screen with those squinty little dagger eyes that mean he's gonna rip me a new one. What'd I say?

"Did you want me to wear a lacey pink dress, too?"

"When did I say anything about a dress? I didn't say anything about a dress."

"Then what were you saying? That we should go so we can sit at a table and get pity stares all night?"

"No, I-"

"Or did you think my fairy godmother would fly down and turn me into some helpless, starry-eyed girl you could screw?" Ouch. That's the Bitchy Mitch we all know and love. So has he been thinking about it, too, or is he just being touchy?

"Someone's due for his shot soon."

"You're not helping your case, Jerome."

"I just thought we could go have some fun for the night. Is that so bad?"

"Don't we have fun here?" He shuts the screen on his laptop and that's when I know shit's getting serious. When Mitch isn't multitasking and all of his attention's focused on one thing, you know something's gonna die. "It wouldn't work, dood. I know what you're trying to do, and it wouldn't work out. I love you, but not like that. So if you're here to try to get in my pants, there's the door."

---

February 27, 2011

Mitch:

"I just thought-" I can't believe this. He actually thought I would go with him to a high school dance. He thought he had a snowball's chance in hell to score with me. Does he know me at all? Is that all I am to him? I don't have time for this.

"Out." He has the balls to look surprised, like he thought I wouldn't immediately tell him off. What did he think was going to happen?

"A man can't think?!?" I can't help but laugh at that, which just pisses him off. I might have felt bad, if he'd considered me at all in this little master plan of his. Now he won't even admit it. What does he really think of me if he thought he had a chance?

"You actually thought about this? It looks like you just came up with this shit on the way back from the fridge."

"Well, if some people weren't so hard to talk to-"

"About what, Jerome? About what? Not wanting to roll over and spread my legs for you? What did you expect me to do when you asked me to go to a dance? Get down on my knees and moan? Go run out and buy a dress?"

"I never said you had to wear a dress! You coulda used that ugly ass tux from your aunt's wedding!"

"So I can go sit with you in the lunch room and watch everyone else dance? So I can go waltz with you and pass even less than I do now? It's like you want me to have to move again. Just... Fuck this." I grab my laptop and leave him there on the couch with his face in his hands. I lock the door behind me and just keel over on my bed, today's upload all but forgotten. I should just delete it – his COD PVP is awful, anyway. I would have done better on my own. It's always been that way. I should have seen it sooner.

"Mitch... I just wanna talk." I let him stand out there in silence, putting the computer aside so I can put my face down in the pillow and keep myself from saying anything I might regret. Unlike him, I want to think it through before I piss someone off. "I... I didn't mean it like that. You know I like you. I've always liked you. A lot more than I should. I just didn't know how to say it and... I fucked up. Okay, I really fucked up. But I didn't mean it like that. I know you aren't a girl and I like you, anyway. I would've liked you even if I didn't know you were trans. I just... I don't know how to talk to you about any of this because you're so touchy about it."

"And why do you think that is? Maybe it's because I get treated like shit because of it. Or maybe it's because I don't want anyone else to know so I don't have to move every six months. Or maybe it's because I hate myself. Did you ever stop and think about that? I hate being like this, Jerome, and I'm not interested in someone making a fetish out of it."

"It's not a fetish," he argues and I can hear his voice starting to rise again. He's trying to stay quiet so no one upstairs will hear, but Jerome isn't a quiet person. For all of his idiocy and rashness, at least he tries to look out for me. I wish he would understand how hard it is, trying to hide all of the time, trying not to feel anything. I want to love him, but I can't. I need him to stick around more. I can't risk losing that, no matter how hard it is to say no. I can't have him see me as a girl and start slipping up again; I need to stay stealth so I won't have to change schools for the umpteenth time, and me dating a guy isn't going to help with that. I wish it was as easy to act in real life as it is on camera – there's no editing software to fix this. "Can't you just hear me out?"

"No."

"You're not even gonna give me a chance?"

"No."

"Why?" I know that hurt him, I can hear it in his voice, but I don't want him to see me as a possible venture. I just want things to go back to how they were before he tried to ask me out. This is a disaster.

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Because I said so!"

"You didn't say 'so', Mitch." Sometimes I wonder why I ever liked him in the first place, the sarcastic bastard. I'm here right now because of him, but I wouldn't be here today without him. I can't stay mad at him for long, even after he pulls stupid shit like this. I can't imagine what Mat would have done if he was in his shoes. "Can you at least tell me why?" I cringe, and I know there's only one way out of this: I have to lie. I already feel guilty but it's the only way he'll ever let it drop.

"I'm not into that kind of thing. I told you, it wouldn't work." As bad as it seems, I wouldn't have said no if I hadn't known him forever. I just can't afford to lose my best friend, my recording partner, and my backup squad because of one stupid mistake. We both stay quiet for a few beats as it sinks in for him, another problem we have to clear up. He obviously does think of me as a girl if he only thought I would be into guys. We have a lot of work to do.

"Are you ever gonna come out?" He sounds almost pathetic and I know he's sorry. I don't know if he understands it yet, but at least it's a start. I slowly get up and walk back over to the door and quietly unlock it, jumping aside just in time to watch him fall flat on his ass in the doorway when I open the door. I try not to grin as his Monster hat goes flying off and rolls over next to the desk. Life with Jerome is like a neverending comedy show. He looks up at me like a kicked puppy, like I should have somehow known he would be leaning against the door like an idiot. I step around him and walk over to the door to grab my shoes. He just watches me, not sure what to think. "You came back."

"Did you think I was going to crawl out the bathroom window? How many times am I going to have to come out for you? Jeez." He's trying not to laugh but he doesn't do a very good job of hiding it. I pick up his sneakers and chuck them at his head and start going upstairs. "Do you want chicken nuggets or not?" He's out to the car in less than ten seconds, still trying to shove his feet in his shoes. He even left his hat behind. Just like duct tape, deep fried chicken mush can fix anything.