It's a weirdly subtle conversation.
I almost don't notice
I'm being blackmailed.
We're sitting in metal
folding chairs backstage and
Martin Addison says, I read your email.
What?
I look up, earlier in the library,
not on purpose obviously.
You read my email?
Well, I used the computer right after you,
he says, and when I typed in
Gmail it pulled up your account,
you probably should have logged out.
I stare at him dumbfounded.
He taps his foot against
the leg of his chair.
So what's the point of the fake name?
He asks.
Well, I'd say the point of the fake name
was to keep people like Martin Addison
from knowing my secret identity.
So I guess that worked out brilliantly.
I guess he must have seen me
sitting at the computer, and
I guess I'm a monumental idiot.
He actually smiles.
Anyway, I thought it might interest
you that my brother is gay.
Not really, he looks at me.
What are you trying to say?
I ask.
Nothing, look Spear,
I don't have a problem with it,
it's just not that big of a deal.
Except it's a little bit of a disaster
actually, or possibly an epic fuck
storm of a disaster depending on
whether Martin can keep his mouth shut.
This is really awkward, Martin says.
I don't even know how to reply.
Anyway, he says, it's pretty obvious
that you don't want people to know.
I mean, I guess I don't.
Except the whole coming out
thing doesn't really scare me.
I don't think it scares me.
It's a giant holy box of awkwardness, and
I won't pretend I'm looking forward to it.
But it probably wouldn't be
the end of the world, not for me.
The problem is I don't know
what it would mean for Blue,
if Martin were to tell anyone.
The thing about Blue is that
he's kind of a private person,
the kind of person who wouldn't
forget to log out of his email.
The kind of person who might never
forgive me for being so totally careless.
So I guess what I'm trying to say is that
I don't know what it would mean for us,
for Blue and me.
But I seriously can't believe I'm having
this conversation with Martin Addison,
of all the people who could have
logged into Gmail after me.
You have to understand that I never
would have used the library computers in
the first place,
except they block the wireless here.
And it was one of those days
where I couldn't wait until
I was home on my laptop.
I mean, I couldn't even wait to check
it on my phone in the parking lot.
Because I had written blue from my
secret account this morning, and
it was sort of an important email.
I just wanted to see if
he had written back.
I actually think people
would be cool about it,
Martin says, you should be who you are.
I don't even know where
to begin with that.
Some straight kid who barely knows
me advising me on coming out,
I kind of have to roll my eyes.
Okay, well whatever,
I'm not going to show anyone, he says.
For a minute I'm stupidly relieved,
but then it hits me.
Show anyone?
I ask, he blushes and
fidgets with the hem of his sleeve,
something about his expression
makes my stomach clench.
Did you take a screenshot or something?
Well, he says,
I wanted to talk to you about that.
Sorry, you took a fucking screenshot?
He purses his lips together and
stares over my shoulder.
Anyway, he says, I know you're friends
with Abby Suzhou so I wanted to ask.
Seriously?
Or maybe we could go back to you telling
me why you took a screenshot of my emails?
He pauses, I mean,
I guess I'm wondering if you
wanna help me talk to Abby,
I almost laugh.
So what,
you want me to put in a good word for you?
Well, yeah, he says.
And why the hell should I do that?
He looks at me and
it suddenly clicks, this Abby thing,
this is what he wants for me.
This in exchange for not broadcasting my
private fucking emails, and Blue's emails.
Jesus Christ, I mean,
I guess I figured Martin was harmless.
A little bit of a gibbering
nerd to be honest, but
it's not like that's a bad thing.
And I've always thought he was kind of
hilarious, except I'm not laughing now.
You're actually going to make me do this,
I say.
Make you?
Come on, it's not like that.
Well, what's it like?
It's not like anything.
I mean, I like this girl, I was just
thinking you would wanna help me here.
Invite me to stuff when she'll be there,
I don't know.
And what if I don't?
You'll put the emails on Facebook,
on the fucking Tumblr?
Jesus, the creek secrets Tumblr,
ground zero for
Creekwood High School gossip,
the entire school would know within a day.
We're both quiet.
I just think we're in a position to help
each other out, Martin finally says.
I swallow thickly.
Paging Marty, Ms. Albright calls from
the stage, act two, scene three.
So just think about it,
he dismounts his chair.
Yeah, I mean this is so
goddamn awesome, I say.
He looks at me, and there's this silence.
I don't know what the hell you
want me to say, I add finally.
Well, whatever, he shrugs.
And I don't think I've ever been so
ready for someone to leave.
But as his fingers graced the curtains,
he turns to me.
Just curious, he says, who's Blue?
No one, he lives in California.
If Martin thinks I'm selling out Blue,
he's fucking crazy.
Blue doesn't live in California, he lives
in Shady Creek and he goes to our school.
Blue isn't his real name, he's someone.
He may even be someone I know, but I don't
know who, and I'm not sure I wanna know.
And I'm seriously not in
the mood to deal with my family.
I probably have about an hour until
dinner, which means an hour of trying
to spin my school day into
a string of hilarious anecdotes.
My parents are like that.
It's like you can't just tell them about
your French teacher's obvious wedgie, or
Garrett dropping his tray in
the cafeteria, you have to perform it.
Talking to them is more
exhausting than keeping a blog.
It's funny though, I used to love
the chatter and chaos before dinner.
Now it seems like I can't get out
the door fast enough, today, especially.
I stop only long enough to click
the leash onto Bieber's collar and
get him out the door.
I'm trying to lose myself in Tegan and
Sara on my iPod, but I can't stop thinking
about Blue and Martin Addison, and
the holy awfulness of today's rehearsal.
So Martin is into Abby,
just like every other geeky
straight boy in advanced placement.
And really, all he wants is for me to let
him tag along when I hang out with her.
And it doesn't seem like a huge deal when
I think about it that way, except for
the fact that he's blackmailing me.
And by extension he's blackmailing Blue,
that's that part that makes
me want to kick something.
But Tegan and Sara help.
Walking to Nick's helps.
The air has that crisp early fall feeling,
and
people are already lining
their steps with pumpkins.
I love that,
I've loved it since I was a kid.
Bieber and I cut around to Nick's
backyard and through the basement.
There's a massive TV facing the door
on which Templars are being brutalized.
Nick and Leah have taken over a pair
of rocking video game chairs.
They look like they haven't
moved all afternoon.
Nick pauses the game when I walk in.
That's something about Nick.
He won't put down a guitar for
you, but he'll pause a video game.
Bieber, says Leah.
Within seconds, he perches awkwardly with
his butt in her lap, tongue out, and
leg thumping.
He's so freaking shameless around Leah.
No, it's cool, just greet the dog,
pretend I'm not here.
Do you need me to scratch your ears too?
I crack a smile.
This is good, things are normal.
Did you find the traitor?
I ask.
Killed him, he pats the controller.
Nice, seriously, there's no part
of me that cares about the welfare
of assassins or Templars or any game
character ever, but I think I need this.
I need the violence of video games and
the smell of this basement,
and the familiarity of Nick and Leah.
The rhythm of our speech and silences.
The aimlessness of mid October afternoons.
Simon, Nick hasn't heard about le wedgie.
Le wedgie, [FOREIGN].
English, please?
Says Nick.
Or pantomime, Leah says.
As it turns out, I'm kind of awesome
at re-enacting epic wedgies,
so maybe I do like to perform a little.
I think I'm getting that Nick and
Leah sixth grade field trip feeling.
I don't know how to explain it.
But when it's just the three of us,
we have these perfect stupid moments.
Martin Addison doesn't exist
in this kind of moment.
Secrets don't exist, stupid, perfect.
