"Well, you sure look gussied-up." I looked my best friend up and down, taking in everything from the lavender-colored wig to the black wedges. "Gonna leave me for a date or sumthin'?"
"No." Cameron crossed his arms. "We're going out tonight, and I wanna look nice." His exasperated tone made it seem as if that should be obvious.
I scratched the back of my head. I will never understand why some people put so much work into their appearance. I understood dressing aesthetically; I had a cowpoke aesthetic myself. Just leather boots, a flannel, jeans, a holster, and a hat. Easy. But doing your make-up work hours on end, or spending an entire day in a salon just seemed like way too much.
It was only a school dance! Why waste time getting into drag for a dance? I didn't voice my question, Cameron would have lectured me about it for the rest of the night.
We walked through our neighborhood to the nearest bus stop. Almost completely silently, besides the clomping of our shoes.
As we boarded the bus, after a five-minute wait on a freezing-cold evening, the bus driver flapped his gums a bit. "Halloween's not for a couple of months, pals."
I looked up from my wallet. Ignoring the fact that he assumed my gender, which made me hotter than a campfire most days, I could not look past his lackluster commentary. I sighed, "You really ain't as clever as you think. How many times have we heard that, Cam?"
"More times than I'm willing to count. Can't you dumb-asses come up with anything better?"
"At least we take care a' ourselves. Looks like you just rolled out of bed. Haven't shaved, haven't dun shit with yerself. You ought a feel ashamed, being a grown-ass man in all."
Cameron continued, "By the way... We're not fellas, dunce. My friend is a-gendered, and I am a drag-queen. 'Kay?" He put emphasis on the queen.
The two of us paid for our bus fare, and sat in the very front seats of the bus, hearing exactly zero words from the driver, the entire trip. We spent the trip in resentful silence. The bus was mostly empty. Those on it pretended they heard nothing at all. They heard the entire exchange, of course, but it was better not to get involved with the town outcasts. Pride was a word they couldn't stand, and rainbows were a symbol that should burn.
Five stops and ten minutes later, and one evil glare from the bus driver later, we traveled a short distance to the front entrance of Peril high (what a fitting name). We shared a glance. This was really the last place I wanted to be right now. Was the constant mocking and ridicule we would endure that night really be worth dragging myself in here?
A week ago, when I first mentioned attending, the idea was exciting. What could more fun than spending a supervised night with music and snacks with your best-friend? The idea lost its glamour after the first day. By the time we wanted to back out, we already bought our tickets.
My feet were getting colder by the second. "Are you sure you're sister's okay?"
Cameron texted his sister on the bus, just to check in on her. She'd gone to the movies and known to be accident prone. Freakishly so.
"Yes, Nat, I think I'd know if my sister was okay or not," He snapped. "Sorry. Let's just go in." He linked his arm through mine and tugged slightly as he advanced. I reluctantly shuffled along beside him.
Passing the double doors was like going from a deep-sleep to a noisy awakening. We could feel the bass reverberating through the floor from here, and we weren't at all close to the gym. I couldn't even make out the lyrics over the rhythmic thumping.
We made our way to the core of the music. In front of the silver double doors, the assistant principal, Ms. Lynch, sat with a clipboard in hand. She grinned so widely it almost concealed the sneer right behind it.
The two-minute interaction held as much tension as a taught cord. Handing over tickets ended up feeling like a chore. She made everything feel like a chore, even existing. I had to tolerate her border-line verbal abuse every time I got in trouble on false (occasionally not) claims.
It was around seven-thirty. Thirty minutes before the dance officially started. The student council was and chaperons were still setting up the snack table.
Cameron had better things to do. "Come on Nat, I gotta pee, and put on my eyeliner."
"Why didn't you put yer dang eye-liner at home?" I fumed as I followed him to the bathroom.
"You were already knocking on my door, and I knew we would be early. So I'm doing it now, if that's okay."
"Fine." I forgot sometimes that under all that sass, Cameron really was a considerate person.
During the school day, I always went to whatever bathroom was near. No matter if it was the men's room or the women's'. My skills in androgyny were so good that no one could tell what I got assigned at birth. So no one gave me much shit over which bathroom I used.
I sat on the counter and politely adjusted my tool belt as Cameron handled his business. "How can you pee under that big-ole dress?" I asked, still focused on my belt buckle.
"A queen never reveals her ways."
I snorted. "Whatever."
"How can a cow-poke be so good at not being a boy or girl?" Cameron's footsteps moved to the sink.
"Cowpokes never tell," I shot back.
In the eight years we've known each other, I concealed my original gender from Cameron. That was probably more because of his unwillingness to pry then my ability to keep secrets.
Fast forward a bit, Cam's make-up is flawless. That was at 7:45. It seemed no one else would show.
Would've been a shame, too. They would have missed out on a pretty good DJ, and what looked like a flower-garden on crack. Colorful paper flowers covered an alarming amount of the gym. In different sizes, shapes, varying in quality. All of them were handmade by the council. It gave me an eye strain to look at them for too long.
Cameron and I found this extremely comical. Our school's cheapness never ceased to crack us up. Especially Peril high's mascot costume.
Once others began funneling, we took it upon ourselves to sober up. Lady Gaga's 'Poker face' blared from the speakers. Such an iconic song, but no one was dancing.
"C'mon Nat! Let's go dance!" Cameron tugged on my arm, trying to lead me to the space in the middle of a gym.
Coincidentally, this song was one song we could bond over. Even though I was terrible in dance circles, I let him drag me into this one. We started breaking it down. Well, Cameron started breaking it down, and I just tried to keep up.
Everyone else watched with smug expressions, as if it were a fools' move to dance…. At a dance. "Look at those fags dance. Can't stay on beat to save their lives," An idiot boy (you know the type) yelled.
Cameron abruptly stopped moving. He craned his neck in the general direction of the insult.
I stepped closer, ready to hold him back if necessary.
It wasn't. He smiled, and yelled, "You're a big fucking pussy-boy if you can't say it to our faces!" No rebuttal. He kept on dancing to Gaga as if nothing happened. Thank god.