Baby Drag Queen, page 1
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Baby Drag Queen
C.A. Tanaka
Copyright © C.A. Tanaka 2023
Published in Canada and the United States in 2023 by Orca Book Publishers.
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Title: Baby drag queen / C.A. Tanaka.
Names: Tanaka, Candie, author.
Series: Orca soundings.
Description: Series statement: Orca soundings
Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20220239843 | Canadiana (ebook) 20220239851 | ISBN 9781459835320 (softcover) | ISBN 9781459835337 (PDF) | ISBN 9781459835344 (EPUB)
Classification: LCC PS8639.A5598 B33 2023 | DDC jC813/.6—dc23
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022938247
Summary: In this high-interest accessible novel for teen readers, seventeen-year-old Ichiro secretly enters a drag-performance contest.
Orca Book Publishers is committed to reducing the consumption of nonrenewable resources in the production of our books. We make every effort to use materials that support a sustainable future.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada, the Canada Council for the Arts and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Edited by Tanya Trafford
Design by Ella Collier
Cover photography by Pexels/Kamaji Ogino
For all the baby drag performers
out there—stay bright!
Chapter One
It’s 4:00 a.m. Ichiro hears the phone ring, his mother’s hushed voice. He rolls over and goes back to sleep. Around ten he pulls on a pair of shorts, throws on a white T-shirt and heads downstairs. It’s Saturday, so he’s hoping his mom will make him breakfast. But she’s not in the kitchen.
“Mom!” he yells. “Mom?”
“Ichiro, I’m here.” She’s taking a load of laundry out of the washer and dryer they share with their landlord. “Not so loud—the neighbors might hear you.”
“I’m hungry,” he says.
“Okay, okay,” she replies.
At almost seventeen, he should be making his own breakfast. But breakfast is one of the only times they get to sit down and talk. He wishes she could be around more.
“Ichiro, why so late this morning?” She’s dressed for her shift at the restaurant.
“Ten isn’t late, Mom. Some kids sleep till noon,” he says. He rests his head on the kitchen table.
“No, no, they don’t.”
“Yes, they do.”
“What would you like today?” she asks.
“Pancakes and bacon,” he says hopefully.
“Yeesh, so much work. How about a cheese omelet with bacon?”
“Mom!”
“Ichiro, no complaining. You should be cooking for your mother.”
She puts the frying pan on the stove and breaks two eggs into a bowl. She preheats the oven and puts four slices of bacon on parchment paper.
“Who called last night?” he asks.
“Grandma.”
“Grandma Ito? What did she say? Can I go visit? I still haven’t been to Japan.”
“No, Grandpa is sick. He fell and is in the hospital.” His mother opens the oven and turns away from Ichiro. When she does this, he knows she’s crying.
“He’s not doing well, and she wants me to go home. But how can I?”
“Mom, I’m going to be working soon. Maybe I can help?”
She doesn’t answer. She puts the omelet on a plate and puts it in front of him. “How’s school?” she asks.
“Okay.”
“Why just okay? What’s wrong?”
“Changing schools is hard, Mom. I miss Jazz and Blaze. I don’t fit in with the Japanese kids because I can’t speak Japanese. But I can’t speak Mandarin either. Why did you and dad not teach me anything?”
“Ichiro, I can’t speak Japanese. The girls at school used to pick on me too. They pulled my pigtails and pushed me off my bike. It’s just how it is.”
“Pulled your pigtails?” Ichiro laughs.
“It’s not funny,” she says. But she’s smiling.
“It’s hard to imagine you in pigtails.”
“Why don’t you join an after-school club and make some new friends?”
“Only nerds do that.”
“You have Chris and Jia.”
Ichiro pushes the eggs away from the bacon. He likes to keep his foods separate.
“What about all those books you read?” his mother says.
Ichiro loves to read nonfiction to learn new things. He doesn’t like what he calls “the pretend world of fiction.”
“What about them?”
“Hang out in the library. Find a girl who reads.”
“No thanks. What I want is a new skateboard.”
“Honey, I can’t afford that.”
“Mom, I can pay for it myself.”
“With what?”
“I signed up for cafeteria class this year. The teacher is supposed to be a great chef. We learn how to make giant pots of soup, salads and desserts for the students. And they offer some part-time work helping with catering the banquets at night after school.”
She clears his plate. “Maybe then you can help out a bit more around here.”
“Like how?” Ichiro asks.
“You know, cook for us sometimes?”
“We’ll see, Mom. I am still a beginner.”
“Confidence, daughter. You can do it,” she says.
Ichiro feels weird when his mother calls him daughter. He has told her before that he doesn’t feel like a daughter. But she didn’t understand what he was saying, and he could tell she wasn’t ready to have a serious talk. He knows it will have to happen sooner or later.
Ichiro’s mom finally leaves for work, which means he can play some video games. He plays FIFA for a couple of hours and then takes a nap. When he wakes up, it surprises him to see that it’s 5:00 p.m. already. Bored, he gets up and snoops in his mother’s room.
Ichiro knows he shouldn’t be in there, but his mother’s room has always been a mystery to him, especially the very large and full closet. He never knows what he’ll find in there. Last month he checked out some old dresses in the back that he can’t remember ever seeing. She probably wore them way back when she met Dad. Ichiro moves the bulky winter coats and old hat boxes out of the way. He has to be super careful to put everything back in just the right way.
There’s something on the other side of the closet that draws his attention. It’s a big pile of clothes on the floor. Men’s clothing and a couple of pairs of shoes. Must be clothing his dad left behind that Mom is finally going to get rid of. One day, when Ichiro was only six years old, his dad just got up and left. Though his mother tried to comfort him, Ichiro cried for a very long time. He used to think it was all his mother’s fault. Now that he’s older, he’s realized his dad was never meant to have kids. He’s too self-involved. Travel and photography have always been his passions. He’s rarely even in the country anymore at all. Ichiro can’t decide whether he loves or hates his dad. Sometimes it’s a bit of both.
He sees his dad only a few times a year, when he’s passing through town. His dad left Canada right after the breakup to do a photo shoot in Hong Kong. He’s now a well-known artist in China. He got married again, to a woman who is kind but not the type who wants kids. Ichiro’s friends think his dad is so cool. Ichiro just wishes he would visit more.
His dad says that the next time he visits, he’ll take Ichiro to the futuristic exhibit of sneaker art at the Hexagon Gallery in North Vancouver. There are a bunch of Air Jordans on display that artists have taken to the next level. Most of the shoes are so cool-looking, but only for display. Ichiro and his dad will go for dim sum afterward at Ichiro’s favorite restaurant, Jade Garden, in Chinatown.
Ichiro pulls out a vintage dress. It’s purple and made of lightweight wool, with a pleated front and sleeves. The label is one he doesn’t recognize. He pulls it over his T-shirt and shorts. He looks in the mirror and laughs. When he raises his arms, he looks like a large prehistoric bird ready for flight. But his side profile, with his arms down, looks rather elegant. He searches around for a pair of heels and accessories to complete the look. He wanders over to the vanity. So many tubes of lipstick! He pouts in front of the mirror. A nice purply red should fit his style. He purses his plump lips and smears a couple of light strokes across his mouth. He gets lost looking at himself in the mirror. “I can totally pull this off,” he says to himself.
“Ichiro, Ichiro?” His mother is home early.
He rushes out of her room and into the bathroom down the hall. Did he remember to put everything back? Shit, he’s still wearing the dress and heels. He quickly slips them off and hides them in the cupboard under the sink.
“I’m in the bathroom. Be right out.” He quickly wipes the lipstick off his face and scrubs his lips with soap and water. It’s so dark though. His heart is beating fast, and he feels hot. He can barely think. The room feels like it’s spinning.
“Ichiro, are you okay?”
“Yes, fine. Be right there.” He finds some makeup remover and dabs it on his lips, but they are still very red. He hears a sound.
It sounds like his mom is crying.
“Mom? Mom, are you okay?” he asks as he enters the kitchen. “What happened?” He puts his arms around her.
She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. She won’t look at him. “It’s nothing, Ichiro.”
“It’s not nothing,” he says. “Tell me!”
“I’m fine, I’m fine. Going to sleep now. Just tired.”
“Mom!”
“See you in the morning.” His mom looks at him, and he can see her swollen dark eyes. “What’s that on your lips?” Of course she would notice, even in her state of distress. She sees everything.
Ichiro wipes his lips with the back of his hand. “Oh, that must be from the popsicle I had before you came home.”
Chapter Two
In cafeteria class, Ichiro starts at the salad station. He washes the iceberg lettuce in the large stainless-steel sink by soaking it in a cold-water bath. He then swishes it around a bit before laying it out to dry on clean, dry towels. At the end of the cafeteria course, there’s an opportunity to buy an official cookbook. It’s a massive green hardcover book with “secret” cafeteria recipes for large crowds. Only students who go through the cooking course are able to buy it. Mr. Padanowski’s classes are always full. He teaches students proper cooking and knife skills. He also goes over hygiene and safety in the kitchen. Today Ichiro is learning how to use an industrial dishwasher. He gently places the glassware and cutlery in the appropriate racks to make them shine.
If Ichiro works hard enough, he can help out with banquets in the evening. Sometimes he has to serve, and tonight it’s his turn. They are cooking a bunch of game for a group of hunters. He feels nauseous washing the bear meat. There is so much blood, and thicker pieces still have black hair attached. He decides he will become a pescatarian, because he won’t be able to enjoy meat after this.
Ichiro needs to earn more money to help his mom out. He has a little notebook where he keeps a tally of all his earnings, but he doesn’t make very much. Mr. Padanowski told him that lots of restaurants downtown are looking for kitchen help. He’s promised to be a great reference for Ichiro because he knows how hard he works.
Ichiro rushes home after the banquet and goes straight to his room. He opens his laptop and starts looking for job openings. One of his favorite restaurants, Café Ivy, is looking for a dishwasher/ kitchen help. It sounds perfect. Flexible shifts and free meals too! The ad mentions inclusivity in the workplace too, which is a bonus. There are few kitchen jobs that list that at all.
He can barely keep from screaming out loud. He fills out the online application as quickly as he can, really hoping they pick him.
* * *
The next morning is his birthday. Turning seventeen is a big deal to his mother, just like any birthday of his, but Ichiro figures it’s just another day. Another day that his mother will try to make him feel better about his father not being around. She likes to make a fuss and usually buys a big cake for the two of them to share.
“Mom, I don’t need a cake this year,” says Ichiro as he comes into the kitchen. He hopes she won’t take it the wrong way. He appreciates everything she does for him but knows they can use the money for other things.
“Don’t be silly. Of course you do,” she says. She shakes her head.
“It’s not that important, Mom,” he says.
When he gets home after school, he sees a card on the kitchen table with a note telling him to look in the fridge. There it is, a big white sponge cake topped with fresh fruit. His mom probably got it from the Chinese bakery down the road. It’s his least favorite kind of cake. He would have much preferred a basic chocolate cake. He sighs and then sends his mom a text.
Thanks Mom. ❤
You’re welcome! Home late tonight.
Ichiro sighs. His phone pings again. It’s Chris.
Hey, where you at?
Hi.
What are you up to tonight?
Nothing.
It’s your birthday, buddy! Let’s go out!
* * *
Ichiro arrives early as usual. The Veggie Bistro is a tiny diner on Davie Street. Chris texts to say he’s on his way. Ichiro scores a table near the window. He fishes out a coin from his pocket and selects a song on the mini jukebox.
A server approaches the table. “Hi, honey. You waiting for a friend? Can I get you a drink?”
“Yeah, just water for now, please.”
The server slaps a couple of menus on the table. Where is Chris? Ichiro checks his phone again and then looks around. The bistro is a pillar of the queer community on Davie Street, though it has changed owners many times. The latest renos have been done in cotton-candy colors and give the place a happy, cheerful look. A complete gay overhaul.
Ichiro’s phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Ichiro? It’s Sarah from Café Ivy.”
“Oh, hi!”
“We received your application and are short-staffed today. Any chance you can come in tonight and help out in the kitchen for a few hours? It’d be like a trial interview. If it works out, we’ll keep you around.”
“Uh…yeah, for sure! I’ll be right there. Thirty minutes at the most.”
“Great. Soon as you can.”
Ichiro hangs up just as Chris walks through the door.
“Yo, buddy, happy birthday!” Chris gives him a homie handshake and pats his back.
“Thanks. Aw man, I’m sorry, but Café Ivy just called. I gotta go. They want me to work tonight.”
“What? That’s great. Go then. No worries. I’ll grab some grub with Lexie.”
Ichiro has no idea who that is, but as he gets up to leave, a girl approaches their table.
“Hey,” Chris says.
“Hi,” the girl says, looking at Ichiro.
“Hey,” Ichiro mumbles. He stares, waiting to be introduced
“Oh, Ichiro, this is Lexie. She’s new at school. Ichiro is just leaving. He’s on his way to work.” Chris winks at him.
“Uh, yeah, nice to meet you,” Ichiro says. “Text you later, Chris.”
He wants to stay but is also super excited about getting to the café. As he rushes out the door to catch the bus, Lexie comes running after him. “You forgot this,” she says and slaps his hat onto his head.
“Thanks,” he says a bit too eagerly.
“No problem.” She pats his back. “See ya!” she says with a big smile.
Ichiro stands there for a minute. The bus goes rushing by, and he has to race to the stop. He’s out of breath but makes it.
At Café Ivy he checks in with the host, and she takes him to the kitchen. “Hey,” says a cook. “You must be Ichiro.” He throws Ichiro an apron. “Wash up and then find me.” The guy goes back to rushing from the oven to the pickup counter with food.
“You ever use one of these before?” he asks when Ichiro returns. He’s talking about the dish-washing station.
“Yeah, no problem. We have this at our school cafeteria.”
“Awesome. Here are the bins. Sort them out and start washing. Do a bunch of bowls first— everyone wants the clam chowder tonight for some reason.”
Ichiro looks around for bowls in the bus bins and loads them in a rack. Then he takes the sprayer and gives them a quick rinse to remove food particles. Finally he feeds the rack into the main compartment. The grossest part is always the pre-soak of the flatware. He loads the cutlery into a flat rack, rinses it and pushes it through. It’s not long before he’s a sweaty mess. His T-shirt is soaked. He wipes the moisture from his forehead and brows.
“Hey, don’t forget to wash up when it gets too hot,” one of the cooks says. Ichiro walks over to the sink and mops his forehead with paper towels. Then he washes his hands well as they were taught in cafeteria class.
