Imogen, Obviously, page 18
I don’t know how to stop staring. Tessa in an old-fashioned suit, hair already starting to break out of her ponytail. Her frantic energy, her sweet flash of a smile. She looks like a hot young professor on the first day of class.
Our eyes meet, and in my brain, it’s like daybreak.
44
Tessa asks if anyone wants a refill, and she’s looking right at me, so I hand her my teacup. Then she settles in on the floor, half-turned toward Lili and me, one leg bent at the knee in a triangle. Like a menswear catalog.
I’m feeling warm and kind of spinny, and second drinks really do go down easier than first drinks. And the talking part’s easier too. Normally there’s a whole security system in my brain, checking and rechecking every single thought before it’s allowed to leave my mouth. But now the guard’s gone off duty.
“Wait.” I set my cup down. “Is this the party?”
Kayla laughs. “Imogen, no! We’re just trying not to show up too early.”
“Right. Totally. Definitely.” I nod. “It’s totally early. It’s only . . . nine.”
If Gretchen were here, she’d be calling me a sweet baby nerd. An innocent bean. I don’t mind it for the most part. But I guess I’m kind of glad to be out of her orbit for a second. It makes tonight feel a little more mine.
Tessa nudges my foot with her shoe and shoots me an early-bird-solidarity yawn. The song switches to Conan Gray’s “Heather,” and the opening chords make me feel so wistful, I almost can’t catch my breath for a second. But Tessa’s still smiling at me, so I smile back, except now I’m blushing, and I’m pretty sure the eye contact should have ended by now. Only I can’t look away, because Tessa’s so cute, and her smile is like sunshine on water.
I think I’ve slipped inside a daydream. Something about the flickering candles and the music and the pinballing conversation. Kayla starts talking about Sailor Moon, and somehow it turns into a whole confessional story hour about our first crushes. Our first queer crushes.
Am I still problematic if I say Clea DuVall?
I mean, I can’t say Tessa. You can’t just say that.
“Robin Wright in The Princess Bride,” Tessa says, shooting me a split-second glance.
“Truly the Starbucks of white-girl lesbian awakenings,” Declan says, and Tessa does that low Tessa giggle. Which is pretty much a declaration of war against my heart.
“Mine was Jade,” Mika says. “I just didn’t know that it was a queer crush until later.”
“Excuse me—you and Jade? That’s not a crush. That’s love.” Kayla presses her hand to her heart. Mika just bites back a smile.
Then Lili starts talking about this regional Girl Scout convention we went to when she was in fifth grade—I was in fourth. “We had to make these little pin crafts to trade with troops from other counties, like as an icebreaker—Immy, do you remember this?”
“SWAPs? Of course I remember.”
“Yes! SWAPs. So the idea is that you end up with a whole collection of different ones. They were pretty cute. I think ours were pompom horses?”
“No, yours were pompom horses, because you’re a horse girl,” I say. “Mine were bunnies.”
“So what happened?” asks Mika.
Lili clasps her hands. “So there’s this one girl from, you know, some other town in central New York. Curly hair, and she was wearing overalls. And her pins were—”
“Felt rainbows,” I say.
Lili blinks, shooting me a surprised half smile. “How do you remember that?”
“Um.” My cheeks go warm.
“Hold up,” Kayla says. “You’re telling me this girl literally shows up at Girl Scouts to turn girls gay?”
I sip from my teacup and shrug.
Kayla shakes her head. “Goddess behavior.”
“Patron saint of queer awakenings,” adds Mika.
“Well, it wasn’t my awakening.” I pause. “I mean, it wasn’t my first awakening.”
“Ooh, spill it, babe,” says Declan.
I can practically hear Lili’s jaw slamming to the ground, but I keep my eyes fixed straight ahead. “So. Um. This new girl had just moved here—not here. I mean home. Penn Yan. Anyway, she moved from New York City, and she had double-pierced ears, so third-grade me was like, holy crap, I have to be friends with her. Also, I was pretty sure we were meant to be friends, because she was Ilana with an I, and I’m Imogen with an I, and we hung out on the playground the whole first week. And I had this daydream where me, her, and Lili were a group of three best friends. It was so vivid. Like, to the point where I used to get stressed out about hypothetical future friend rivalries.”
Lili looks both stunned and amused. “How did I not know about this?”
“Because she got absorbed into this group of popular girls who used to coordinate their outfit colors, and she never talked to me again.”
“Mean Girls is real.” Kayla nods gravely, and I laugh.
“I mean, she wasn’t Regina George or anything. She was just in that group. And she moved back to the city a few years later anyway.”
When I look up, everyone’s still watching me expectantly, like they’re waiting for some kind of punchy reveal.
“Oh! That’s it,” I say, flustered. “Sorry. That was—wow, I just told you guys a really pointless story.”
“Not pointless,” Lili says faintly.
Here’s what I don’t say: I looked Ilana up on Instagram last year. Out of nowhere—she just popped into my head for some reason. It was strange—she looked completely different than I remembered. Less makeup than she used to wear in middle school, for sure. And her nose was pierced. But I think it was mostly the way she was smiling in every photo. A lot of her pictures were with this one particular girl, though I never figured out if she was Ilana’s girlfriend. I don’t even know if Ilana’s queer. But I spent hours investigating the issue. And in retrospect, maybe that means something.
All these moments, scattered and separate. All these disconnected dots.
45
It’s close to ten by the time we set off for Rainbow Manor, and the air’s so cold it makes my cheeks prickle. Lili waits until the others are a few feet ahead before linking her elbow through mine. She looks at me hesitantly. “So, Ilana and the overalls girl. That’s not fake backstory.”
I shake my head, heart tugging sharply.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” she says. “Unless you want to. Immy. God. We don’t have to go to this party.”
I laugh. “But I want to go to the party. That’s literally why I’m here!”
“Okay, but—” She stops short, and I realize Tessa’s circled back to meet us.
Lili releases my elbow, side-hugs me, and jogs to catch up with the others. “Scotty Scott,” Tessa says, falling into step beside me. “I liked your queer-awakening stories.”
Which gives me this quick spike of panic. It suddenly occurs to me just how far I’ve strayed from my stolen Lesbian Elsa narrative. Though Tessa’s smile is so wide and sincere, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t think anything’s off.
“I like yours too, but”—I lean closer—“do they know she’s your cousin?”
“Okay, you know what? That’s enough of your cattitude.” She tilts her head, smiling.
“Keep it moving, slowpokes!” Declan hollers, gloved hands cupped to his mouth. “Less flirting, more walk—”
Kayla slaps a hand over his mouth, herding him forward. “Carry on,” she calls out over her shoulder. “Take your time. All is well.”
“He’s a slowpoke,” Tessa mutters, but my brain’s still stuck on the part where we’re flirting. Is this flirting? Just . . . this? Joking and talking?
Do I want it to be flirting? Because I’m—
My foot slips off the curb, just enough to make me lose my balance—but Tessa hooks her arm around my waist to catch me. “Whoops!”
I turn toward her, burying my face in the wool of her blazer. “Did you steal this jacket from an old-timey professor, or what?”
“Yes, actually! From my dad.”
“You’re the real deal, Minsky,” I say, and her last name feels thrillingly strange on my tongue.
Tessa looks down and then back up at me, her smile almost shy.
Okay, I’m pretty sure this is flirting.
“You guys ready?” Lili asks, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. The house looks bigger, somehow, than it was last weekend, with even more Pride flags on display. The walkway’s lined with tiny LED tea lights, and muffled music seeps through the walls.
Stepping closer, I see there’s a sign on the door.
Welcome to Rainbow Manor: If you’re out, come on in!
46
The entryway funnels us straight into Rainbow Manor’s living room. It’s crowded—not as bad as a movie frat party, but denser than any house party I’ve been to. The furniture’s been pushed to the perimeter to make space for a makeshift dance floor, girl in red streaming from a speaker on one of the side tables. The decor’s pretty simple, but some of the details are cool—fake candles, beige globes, stacks of books, dark velvet cushions. Overall, kind of a moody vintage library vibe.
Either Mika, Declan, and Kayla have already moved to another room, or they’ve been absorbed into the throng of people on the dance floor. “Here, link up,” Lili says, grabbing my hand. So I grab Tessa’s, and we move through the crowd like a chain.
“Lili!” calls out a brunette in a suit and a newsboy cap. They hug Lili, wave to Tessa, and smile at me. “Hi! Vitoria. They/she,” they say, glancing over their shoulder. “Sorry, I’ve lost Nora and Alix.”
“Nora’s right behind you.” Lili laughs, pointing to a ponytailed blond girl with a bunch of piercings. She’s wearing a turtleneck sweater and trousers, and I catch a flash of a woven striped bracelet when she waves—black, white, gray, and purple. Lili leans closer to me. “Okay, Vitoria’s from Brooklyn, and they’re a classics major, and, um, I don’t know Nora’s major, but I’m pretty sure—you’re from the South, right?”
“Yup! Georgia.” Nora nods.
“Right! So—okay, you know Tessa. And this is Imogen—she’ll be a freshman here next year.”
“Very cool! Are you visiting from Philly?” Nora asks.
“Oh, no, just Penn Yan. It’s like thirty minutes away.”
“She’s my BFF from home,” Lili adds.
I release Tessa’s hand, cheeks burning.
“Go dance! We have to find Alix,” Vitoria says as the song switches to Lorde.
We end up on the edge of the dance floor, where people are dancing in clusters or grinding or making out. I don’t know if I’m dreaming or if my mind’s just gone blank. It’s beyond bunny mode. This is just . . . a totally different league from trivia or the tunnels, or even drinking in Kayla’s room.
Lili spots Mika on the dance floor and waves. Then she turns back to Tessa and me. “You don’t see Kayla or Declan, do you?”
Tessa shakes her head. “If they’re making out—”
“I will ascend,” Lili says. Then she pauses. “Oop—okay, no, Dec’s dancing with some guy.”
Mika’s already a little flushed and sweaty by the time they reach us. “Hi!”
Lili tugs one of Mika’s suspenders back onto their shoulder, raising her eyebrows. “You look like you’ve been having fun.”
Mika laughs. “I’m dancing—come on!”
There’s nothing delineating the dance floor from the rest of the space, but it feels like stepping onto the moon. Even dancing as an awkward quartet is the coolest moment of my life, by a mile. Except then the song switches to Doja Cat, and people rush to the dance floor, filling every pocket of space. Now I’m pressed so close to Tessa, I can feel the quiet curve of her breasts.
She meets my eyes, and her face is bewilderingly close. I’ve never been this aware of my body before. Every inch I move feels like a decision.
Suddenly Lili’s hand is on my upper arm, but I can’t quite hear what she’s saying.
“What?” I lean closer.
“Bathroom! Come on.” She grabs my hand—and the next thing I know, she’s leading me past the kitchen and down a short hallway. But the bathroom’s occupied, so we just lean against the wall, side by side.
“I don’t actually have to pee,” Lili says, and then she stops short. “Okay, now I do, but more importantly.” She stares me down, and I guess she’s still a little drunk, because she pokes me in the forehead. “You.”
“Me?”
“So like.” She pauses. “I don’t know how to ask this. I don’t know. I just—”
The bathroom door swings open, and someone in a full-on raven costume lurches toward us, wings raised. “NEVERMORE.”
We stand in stunned silence for a second.
Then Lili yanks me into the bathroom, shuts the door, and locks it. “Okay, you stay there,” she says, stepping back into this sort of toilet nook, separated by a sliding partition door. “Immy, you’re gonna hear me pee!”
“I’ve literally wet your bed.”
“Ha ha, true.” She starts peeing. “Okay, listen, I’m not trying to do the overbearing big sister thing, but I just want to make sure you’re good. Like. You’re happy?”
Staring at myself in the mirror is a little like watching myself in a movie. I’m so flushed, but in a good way. Almost like I’m glowing.
I wonder what Tessa thinks when she sees me.
“You okay?”
“Oh! Yeah, of course!”
“Immy.” The peeing sound stops. A moment later, Lili flushes the toilet and slides the partition back open, studying me in the mirror while she washes her hands. “You’re not—you know you don’t have to prove anything to anyone, right?”
My cheeks flood with heat. “I know.”
“Okay.” She pauses. “’Cause you know—like, you know I’m in favor. As long as it’s for you. Not, you know, ‘the backstory.’” She does air quotes, still studying me intently in the mirror. “It’s real, right?”
I nod quickly, throat feeling thick all of a sudden.
“Oh no. No no no. No crying.” Lili shoves me softly. “Immy.”
I laugh, a little breathlessly.
She hugs me, quickly and tightly. “Okay! You gonna pee or what?”
On the toilet, I cover my face with both hands. I—
I think I just came out?
Sort of? Or did the coming out part happen back in Kayla’s room, when I talked about Ilana and the SWAP girl?
Or maybe none of it counted, because I didn’t say the words.
Bi. Bisexual. Lili, I’m bi.
It feels bigger than I want it to be. Do I really have to announce this? Can’t I just feel something and live inside it while it’s happening and not analyze it to death?
47
By the time we’re back, Mika and Tessa have retreated to the edge of the dance floor again, joined by Declan, who’s apparently ditched the random guy. I don’t think they see us yet, though. Tessa’s nodding along to something Mika’s saying, laughing a little, and I’m just so fascinated by every detail of her. The way her sleeves are a little too long. Her fidgetiness—the way she’s always bouncing on her feet, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. The way her smile never needs a warm-up. Then she catches me staring, and her whole face lights up. My heart jumps into my throat.
We make our way toward them. Declan’s clearly drunker than he was when we got here. He grabs both of our hands, tugging us closer. “Where’s Kayla? She’s not answering her texts!”
Lili shrugs. “Maybe she’s hooking uppppp.”
“That’s what I said!” says Mika. Declan glowers at both of them.
Tessa steps closer. “Hey, you’re back.”
“Back,” I say faintly. I’m so nervous, I’m practically shaking.
I think talking about this with Lili might have made it real.
The song slows down, but my heartbeat doesn’t.
Tessa bites her lip. “Want to dance?”
“Dance, like . . . dance?” I nod. “Okay, yeah.”
She puts her hands on my waist, and I lean in closer, letting my fingertips graze the ends of her ponytail, the wings of hair at the nape of her neck. My heart’s beating so hard, it feels like my ribs might crack open. I’ve slow danced before—at homecoming, junior prom, even the eighth-grade dance.
But this already feels different. Not because Tessa’s a girl. The difference is quieter, tucked away in my chest. It’s a shift from a spiraling I hope I’m doing this right to the ache of I hope.
Tessa’s eyes catch mine, and her lips tug up at the corners, just barely. And the noise in my brain falls away.
All the times I said I’m straight. All the times everyone’s said I’m straight.
There it was, underlined and written in bold. How could I miss it?
Like finding Waldo and realizing he was never really hiding.
48
By now, the music’s louder, the dance floor’s fuller, and the air smells like candles and sweat. People keep stripping off layers, flinging them on the couches and chairs that line the room’s perimeter, and there’s a pair of broody-looking schoolgirls making out right in front of me. But I feel a little removed from it all. Lili and I are leaning against a stretch of wall near the entryway, basically taking turns yawning.
“Where are they?” Lili groans. “I’m starving.”
She’s been trying to round everyone up for at least twenty minutes, but Kayla and Declan have disappeared again, and Mika’s gone off to find them. Plus, Tessa’s been in the bathroom line for approximately a century, and I’m not trying to be dramatic about this, but it feels like someone turned off the sun.
My gaze drifts back to the schoolgirls. I’ve never been more painfully aware of the fact that I’ve never kissed a girl before. Or anyone, of any gender. It’s funny how I lived without kissing for eighteen years, and now I think I might die if it doesn’t happen tonight.
But how on earth do I get there? How does anyone get there? Kissing isn’t something you can be measured and gradual about. Once you start doing the tilty-head thing, I mean—your cards are pretty much on the table, right?
