Date Me, Bryson Keller(11)

    It’s all so unfair: because you’re so-called different, you need to stand up and say that you’re so-called different. What makes everyone else normal? Who gets to decide that?

Whoever it is can suck it.

“I take it you’re not out.” Bryson is leaning against the rack now. He’s still looking at me, in a way that makes me feel like I’m the only one who matters. It isn’t a question, but I answer anyway.

“Yeah. You’re actually the first person at Fairvale Academy to know.” I glance away.

“Really? Wow. I’m strangely honored,” he says. “So not even Donny knows? Or Priyanka?”

“Nope. Not a soul.” I shake my head in disbelief. Coming out was not on my agenda for today.

“What is it?” Bryson asks.

“Nothing. It’s just…weird.” In my best aged-theater-actor voice, I say, “Revealing one’s soul should come with more grandeur, shouldn’t it?”

A smile tugs at Bryson’s lips. “I don’t know about that, but I do know it’s brave.” He puts down the box he’s holding and dusts his hands. “I’m sorry for laughing.” Bryson chews on his lip. “I wasn’t laughing at you being gay. I think I was just startled by you asking me out.”

    “I’m sure there are others who have thought about it.” I recall Donny and Priya’s conversation about Eric. “I think I just beat them to the punch.”

“What made you do it?”

“Would you believe me if I said I don’t actually know? It was spur-of-the-moment. And then when you laughed, I realized that I didn’t want you to think I was joking. But I think I’ve used up all my courage for right now. Maybe a few lifetimes’ worth.” I turn to him. “So you can’t tell anyone about me.”

“I won’t,” Bryson promises. And he has a look in his eyes that makes me feel like he won’t. “You’ll come out when you’re ready. This will be our secret.”

“?‘This’?” Somehow it sounds like he’s talking about more than just right now.

“Our relationship for this week.” The silence stretches between us, and Bryson races to fill it. “I mean, that is, if you want to fake date me for the next five days.” He rubs at the back of his head. “It’s up to you. No pressure.”

“You’ll really date me for the next five days? I mean, you sound so cool about it…that we’re ‘dating’ for the week. Two boys?”

“When you first asked me out, I really did think you were joking, but when you said you weren’t, I was kind of shocked. A guy has never asked me out before. And I guess I’ve never really said that they couldn’t.” Bryson busies himself, starting to sort through a tangle of fairy lights. They were the makeshift stars that our Ophelia stared up at while reading the love letter from Hamlet.

    “You were there when I was dared,” Bryson says. “Everyone just assumed that this was limited to girls. It was simply ‘the first person.’ I’ve been thinking about the reason this wouldn’t be allowed. And that reason is kind of shitty. You asked me out, and I’m saying yes, just like I promised I would. That’s the dare. I…I really do believe love is love. And if I believe that, then I have to say yes…you know?” He stops working and looks at me. “Of course, it’s all up to you. Let me know what you decide.”

“And what happens if Shannon asks you out? She sounds very…determined.”

“You noticed that, too?” Bryson asks, and I nod. “Well, I’ll tell her that someone beat her to it.” Bryson shrugs. “It’s fair. It’s how this game works.”

I remember that Priya once said Bryson had refused to have his starting spot on the soccer team handed back to him after an injury. He’d torn a ligament and his replacement had been doing well, so he insisted that he ride the bench a few games while he won it back fair and square in practice. It’s why he was unanimously voted captain this year. Bryson clearly believes in fairness.

“Thanks,” I say, and I mean it.

The very idea of Bryson dating me for the next five days seems like some barely lucid fantasy. It doesn’t make sense that the most popular boy at Fairvale Academy has agreed to date me—even if it is a fake relationship. Things like this just don’t happen to boys like me.

    We work in silence. My mind buzzes as I sift through a collection of handmade masks from the masquerade scene in our Hamlet retelling. I find the jester mask that I made.

It somehow seems fitting that I have these masks in my hands right now, seeing as how I just removed my own for the first time. My mask has been so tightly fastened on my face—it’s been that way ever since I first realized I liked boys. I was thirteen years old and I had a crush on Colby Matthews—our class president.

It was so sudden. One day I found myself staring at him. I liked the way he scrunched his nose to lift his glasses up. When he smiled at me, my heart would race. And talking to him left me a sweaty, blushing mess. It was then I figured out that I was gay. I remember feeling sad and upset about the realization because it was almost three years after society had taught me that being gay is not okay.

At ten I had heard the pastor of our church condemn homosexuality. At the time I hadn’t realized his sermon would affect me. Now I know that the pastor was saying I would be spending eternity in hell for something I had no control over.