Adam (16 page)

Adam didn't want to hear about someone's dumb transition again. He wanted to get drunk.

“Her name was Linda, and then she transitioned to ‘Len'—got top surgery and went on T and everything—was a guy for like a year and a half, but then she, like, changed her, or his, mind and went back to being female. Now she just goes by ‘L.' Isn't that crazy?”

“Who cares,” said Adam.

“Everyone enjoying themselves here?” A girl with short hair, wearing a purple Lycra body suit, flounced in front of them.

“Totally!” said Casey. “Thanks for having us!”

The girl swiveled her head and bit her finger, looking across the room. “Ooooh! That boy is
fine.
” And she flounced off again.

“Carlisle, he's such a little faggot . . .” said Casey.

“You're just saying that 'cause that's what Schuyler said,” said Adam.

“What?”

“That's what Schuyler said today, that that Carlisle boy or girl or whatever is ‘such a little faggot.' You're a follower. You copy everything everyone does and it's pathetic.” Adam almost never got this mad at Casey. He felt like he was drunk, even though he just wanted to be drunk.

“You're an
asshole
,” said Casey. “Go find your own fucking life, then. You think I want you hanging around me all the time? Talk about pathetic. What are you even
doing
here? At least I
belong
here!”

Adam's face turned red.

“You wish,” he said. “You're just obsessed with everyone here.”

“Go the fuck home, Adam. I can't believe you thought you would
get a girl
here. That is so sad.”

“Hey, cutie.” It was Hazel.

“Oh! Hey!” said Casey, suddenly beaming. Like she wasn't in the middle of a fight. Like she was filled with the fabulous spirit of life and always had been.

Hazel was holding two drinks; she handed one to Casey.

“You look hot,” said Hazel, looking Casey up and down. Then she cocked her head at Adam. “I'm Hazel.”

Yeah. I met you, like, two hours ago.

“I'm—” Adam started to say, but Casey interrupted him.

“That's just my little brother. I don't know why he's here.”

Hazel looked away from Adam, instantly bored. She went back to giving Casey that stupid loaded gaze, and Casey went back to lapping it up.

“I really wanna fuck you tonight,” said Hazel.

“I want you to,” said Casey.

Did they completely not care that he was standing right next to them?

“I wanna fuck you while people watch,” continued Hazel.

“I want you to fuck me while people watch,” said Casey.

“I'm out,” said Adam.

“Good,” said Casey, not even looking at him.

“Why was your brother here?” Adam heard Hazel asking as he walked toward the door. He kept walking before he could hear Casey's answer. He got to the door. He stopped.

No.

He was not gonna bail.

He was not some pussy.

Maybe nothing would happen with that girl, but he had to know that he fucking tried.

She was somewhere in this apartment, and no matter what he was gonna force himself to talk to her.

Fuck Casey, fuck Hazel, fuck Boy Casey, fuck June, fuck Agnes, fuck Mom, fuck Dad—he was not going home until he knew that he
tried
.

Adam whipped around. Headed straight for the liquor table. Threw some ice in a cup. Filled it to the brim with vodka. Took a swig. Felt a lot better.

He saw Casey and Hazel talking where he'd left them and didn't give a shit if they saw he was still here. In five minutes he'd be talking to Redhead and what could they do then?

“Adam, I thought you were leaving?”

“Um, I'm in the middle of a conversation? Do you mind?”

Adam rotated his head a slow 180 degrees, scanning the party for the redhead like a superhero with “infrared-head” vision.
“Infrared-head.” Ha-ha. That was funny. He was funny!

He spotted her. Standing by the window. Talking to some girl. He imagined his vision like in
Terminator 2
, targeting in on her, giving him all the necessary stats. Everything was coded in fluorescent green. He was moving in. Nothing could stop him. He started walking toward the window. Took another swig of vodka. But how? How would he get her attention? What do they do in the movies? On TV? They're walking down the school hallway, they bump into each other, the girl drops her books, and the boy picks them up, something like that; he was getting closer, two inches away—DECISION! DECISION! Alarms were going off, he had to act now—
now!!!

Adam threw his drink on the redhead.

Redhead and her friend stared at him. Redhead slowly started to brush the vodka and ice off her shirt. Adam stood there and watched.

“Um . . .” she said.

Adam broke into action.

“I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry,” he said. He looked around and saw a stack of colored napkins on the liquor table. He ran over, grabbed a handful, ran back, and handed them to Redhead. “I am so, so sorry.”

“Why did you . . . ?”

“I, um, I tripped, it was this rug, I—”

“You didn't trip,” said the friend. “You just . . . walked over here and threw your drink on her.”

“I . . .”

Redhead stared at him, but it wasn't mean. Just intensely curious.

“I wanted to talk to you,” said Adam.

Redhead and her friend burst out laughing.

“That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard,” said Redhead. And then, “I love it.”

“Who
are
you?” said the friend.

“I'm, um, Adam.”

“I'm Gillian,” said Redhead. They shook hands.

“I'm Claire,” said the friend. She and Adam shook hands too.

“So what do you wanna talk about?” said Gillian, grinning. She had that smile like she'd had when he saw her marching.
It was actually happening—this was actually happening.

“Uh, I don't know,” said Adam.

“You are fascinating,” said Gillian. She stared at him with a delighted, amused look.

“Well . . . who do you know here . . . the usual . . .” said Claire.

“Um, I know Carlisle,” said Adam. “And Boy Casey, I mean, Casey—the boy.”

“Uh-huh . . .” said Gillian. She looked as if she was going to start laughing again, but it was a nice laugh. She liked him! “I don't really know Carlisle. We came with our friends Jackie and Nadia . . .”

But why did she like him? Why wasn't she totally weirded out by this twerp teenage boy at the party? She must think he's trans. Like Calypso had. Why else would she like him unless she thought he was trans? This was happening; he couldn't blow this. If she found out he wasn't trans, this would all fall apart. It couldn't—
he could not fuck this up.

“Yeah, I came here with some of my other trans-guy friends,” said Adam.

Gillian and Claire both nodded, smiling. Completely unfazed.

“That's cool . . .” said Gillian.

“I'm gonna go get a drink,” said Claire. She raised her eyebrows at Gillian and left.

Gillian smiled at Adam and rolled her eyes. “All my friends are in couples. Claire's been with her girlfriend for, like, three years, and Jackie and Nadia are at eight months. Whenever we go out they try to turn me into a project.”

Adam blushed. He took a sip of his vodka, but there was nothing left in the cup and he swallowed air. Gillian noticed and gave him that amused look again.

“Here, have some of mine.” She poured some of her drink into his glass.
She wanted to share spit!

“Thanks!” said Adam.

There was an awkward pause.

“So,” she said, “um, what do you do . . . ?”

“I, um, I go to college.”

“Uh-huh, what college?”

“Uh, Berkeley. But I'm visiting my sister for the summer. We live in Bushwick.”

“I live in Fort Greene,” said Gillian. “There was, like, a mass exodus of a bunch of us from Smith. I live with Claire and her girlfriend, Lauren. Never live with a couple. I mean, I love Claire, but it's kind of hell on earth.”

“I live with my sister and a girl who's totally in love with her, but it's, like, not reciprocated. If you want to imagine something worse.”

“I don't know . . . at least then everyone's kind of miserable. For me, it's, like: The couple cooking dinner! The couple snuggled up to a movie! The couple coming home from a night out, tipsy and in love! Me alone in my room, eating a salami sandwich in secret.”

“I eat liverwurst in secret!” said Adam.

Gillian laughed. “Wait, why do you eat it in secret? Are your roommates vegan, too?”

“Uh, no, I just . . . thought I should eat it in secret.”

Gillian laughed even harder. She smiled that smile at Adam. He felt like the funniest, cutest boy alive.

“Yeah,” said Gillian. “Even if I knew they weren't totally grossed out by meat, I think I'd still lock my door. Eating alone in my room is not something I want people to know I'm doing. It's like masturbating or something.”

Adam felt his cheeks go red.

“Should we get refills?” said Gillian.

“Sure!” said Adam.

They walked over to the liquor table, and Adam saw Casey and Hazel staring at him. Casey leaned in and said something to Hazel. What was she doing? He could not let her come over here. Boy Casey approached them. Good, he would keep them busy.

“So . . . I know what you were drinking, since it's all over my shirt,” said Gillian. “At least you didn't mix with cranberry.”

“I'm so sorry about that,” said Adam, “that was completely retard—I mean stupid.”

Gillian handed him a drink. “I don't care,” she said.

“Pour it on me to get even! Seriously!” said Adam. He handed her back the cup and stretched his arms out, presenting his chest.

Gillian laughed. She dunked her finger in the drink and poked it on his chest, leaving a little wet dot on the white T-shirt. She looked down at her own chest. “I should actually go to the bathroom and try to clean up some more real quick.” She looked up at him and smiled. “Don't go anywhere.”

“I won't,” he said.

Gillian walked away. Adam looked down at his chest and ran his finger across the wet spot. He could feel his heart underneath.

“
Who
was that?”

Casey was in front of him.

“Her name's Gillian.”

“And . . . ?”

“I like her,” said Adam.

“Does she know how old you are?”

“No. I told her I went to Berkeley for college, and if she asks, I'm gonna say I'm twenty, and if you tell her I'm not, I swear to god I will tell Mom and Dad everything.” And he meant it. For the first time, he actually meant it.

Casey scoffed. But she knew he was serious. “Fine,” she said. “We'll see how long that lasts . . . I'm leaving with Hazel.” And Casey walked away.

Gillian came back.

“Hey,” she said. “I just talked to Claire and Jackie and Nadia, and they're all going home to be boring lesbians. I was gonna go with them . . .”

Adam's heart sunk. He imagined himself falling through the floor, crashing through every story of the building, through the concrete foundation, into a grave of dirt.

“Unless, I don't know . . . were you gonna stay?” Gillian continued.

“Oh, sure!” said Adam. “If you were . . .”

“Cool,” said Gillian. She took a sip of her drink.

***

For the rest of the night, Adam stayed in that wonderful, floaty drunk cloud where everything was funny and he didn't feel self-conscious. They talked about what it was like to move to New York, and Adam told Gillian about accidentally ending up in the Bronx on the way to Mags Mumford's house to stuff envelopes, and Gillian told Adam how when she first moved here she was supposed to meet her mom's friend for lunch at the Guggenheim and somehow, she still wasn't entirely sure how, ended up on the ferry to Governors Island. It turned out they both used to be obsessed with the candied nuts sold in the carts on the streets, but then both ended up eating too many and now the burnt sugar smell made them nauseous.

At one point a really drunk girl stumbled up to Adam and Gillian and started talking about her cat. Like out of nowhere.

“My cat knows where I am tonight. And my cat does not care for it.”

The girl rambled for at least ten minutes about how she needed to find a proper cat-sitter, and Adam and Gillian tried not to laugh and nodded along, exchanging little glances with each other. When the drunk person staggered off, Adam was almost disappointed. He loved their little unspoken looks. Talking without talking was the best kind.

Then Adam had started to feel a little dizzy, and he panicked that he was getting too drunk and was going to suddenly confess everything or have to throw up, and his life would be over, but Gillian noticed and she got them both water and pretzels and acted like it was no big deal, and soon he was back to feeling good-drunk. And then everyone had started climbing out of this window and up the fire escape, so Adam and Gillian had just shrugged and followed. The next thing he knew they were crowded onto the rooftop, and he and Gillian were pressed close, leaning over the edge, staring out at the endless glittering city, and for a moment he had felt as if he were flying, soaring over everything. Then Carlisle had freaked and was shouting that there were too many people on the roof and everyone had to get back inside right now, and they had all booed and hissed but cheerfully climbed down and into the apartment.

Sometimes Gillian asked him a question that made him nervous. Like, who else he knew here and how he knew them. He pointed out Boy Casey and said he knew him because Boy Casey was dating his sister. He found that the closer he stuck to the truth, the less anxious he got. He had always been really shitty at lying. It just made him so uncomfortable. At one point June and Agnes walked over, and Adam was terrified June was going to say, “Hi, Adam-who's-a-real-boy-not-a-trans-boy,” but of course she didn't. She just said, “We're leaving,” and they left. Adam and Gillian talked a little about the rally, but not about gay marriage or anything, only about how the hot dog vendor guys were selling cold bottled water for four dollars each and how messed up that was, but how they also both agreed that when stuff was expensive, for some reason it always tasted better.