Maple Boyfriend
We’re outside the Time Temple waiting for a fourth to join our party when we meet NotButter. He’s a Level 67 Shadower, which is a good fit for our party; Lili’s an Arch Mage; Riku’s a Paladin; I’m a Bowmaster. He completes us.
Should we ask this guy to PQ? Riku asks, his voice clear in my headset.
I /whisper to NotButter: pq??
He /whispers back: Sure
I click the drop-down menu next to his IGN and invite him to our party. He accepts the request instantaneously.
The Time Temple is one of the prettier maps. Classical aesthetic, tall white pillars and billowy clouds, dozens of monks with pointy hats bustling mindlessly across the screen, awaiting martyrdom.
Riku, Lili, and I are all high-level, so we can eliminate the first string of monks ourselves without taking any damage, but NotButter must have a ton of buffs, because he one-hits Dodo, the Giant Whale of Time.
kitty_hime to /party: nice kill
NotButter to /party: Thanks!
We barrel through the next two rooms, slashing minibosses and grinding monks for enough drops to craft two chaos crystals and blast through the force fields to defeat Pink Bean. By the time we’re done, we’ve all breached Level 60, with NotButter way ahead of us at 69.
NotButter to /party: Great work team ^__^
His character’s eyes turn into twin stars, an expression only available in the Cash Shop for NX. I hit F2 for the generic overjoyed face. Lili does the same, meanwhile Riku’s character raises a single eyebrow, maybe an accidental F1 or maybe Riku’s just being Riku. I’ve always thought it was unfair that it cost real cash to access the good emotes—starry eyes and smooches and dragon breath—but maybe I’m just jealous because my mom would never allow me to spend money on a game.
Henesys? Riku asks aloud in our Skype call.
Yeah, I agree.
We teleport away from NotButter to Henesys Hunting Grounds. We park our characters atop the hay bales, out of reach of the mushrooms and slimes scuttering across the lowest level.
Any updates with Skater Boi? I ask.
I know Riku and Lili better than I know most of my so-called IRL friends. We update each other constantly, know the cadences of each other’s speech, and can tell when something’s up. Riku and I caught on to Lili’s crush on her friend (codename: Skater Boi) before she realized it herself.
Not really, Lili says. I’m going with a group of our friends to a local anime convention, and he mentioned today that he might join us. I dunno what I’m gonna do if we end up sharing a hotel room.
Oooh, I say, intrigued. Better pack some smexy pajamas.
Nuuuh, she says. When we met, I thought the innocence was an act, but after talking to her every day for the last year, I can tell that’s her real personality. I bet she’s conventionally attractive—feminine, thin, tall but not taller than her Skater Boi, long hair, and immaculate skin.
What about you, Kitty? she asks. Any new lunch table drama?
Riku and Lili both know I’ve been having issues with Divya (no codename; I trust my online friends with my IRL friends’ names, even if I don’t share my own), the girl I’ve loved-like-a-sister since kindergarten, and how she’s changed since she started sitting with the people from the Pan-Asian Alliance during our school lunch period, dragging me along with her.
I was drawing in my sketchbook today, I say, and Lisette made fun of me for drawing “cartoons.”
Anime and cartoons aren’t even the same, Riku interjects. Did Divya say anything?
Yeah, right, I say, laying the sarcasm on thick to be sure it transfers over voice. Divya and I used to spend whole Saturdays in the manga aisle at Borders reading the latest installments of whatever shoujo series we were hooked on, at least until we started hanging out with Lisette, Rayan, and Kiko, who all thought anime and manga were for nerds, the lowest position in the nerds-geeks-dorks totem pole, forcing me to closet weeaboo status.
What about you, Riku? I asked. What did you do today?
Lili and I are careful with him, tiptoeing around sticky subjects. Compared to me and Lili, he doesn’t share much about his real life. We know he’s seventeen and that he dropped out of high school last year. Something about being bullied, no specifics.
Same old, he says. Played Halo, took a break to eat, hopped on Maple to hang with you guys.
A fruitful day, Lili says. She can put a positive spin on anything. I’m sure someone loves that about her.
Through my headphones, I hear the clack of Riku’s mechanical keyboard as he types.
I think the sub for the LoveCom live action is up, I say, adjusting the mic on my headset. Wanna watch?
We watch the movie on a third-party site, counting down from three so we press play at the same time, then counting the seconds on the embedded video player to ensure we’re synched. We mute our microphones to avoid disturbing one another with the sounds of crunching chips or stomach rumbles. The adaptation is fine, but the actress who plays Koizumi wears high heels in every scene to look taller than her co-star, which breaks my immersion since the series’ central premise is an unlikely couple’s height difference.
By the time we finish the movie, it’s midnight. We’re night owls, but Riku and Lili know I have standardized testing in the morning, so they wish me goodnight and good luck before hanging up.
Before I close out of Maple, I spot a notification in my Buddy List. A friend request from NotButter. Even though the cap is one hundred friends, I’m approaching the limit. I’ve met so many people through the game, mostly bandwagoners. Even if I mainly log on to play with Lili and Riku, I wouldn’t want to lose touch with anyone. NotButter seemed cool from when we PQ-ed, and it’d be good to be able to reach him without having to sift through the meso botters flooding the main chat. As soon as I hit accept, a green dot appears next to his IGN.
NotButter: You’re up late
kitty_hime: so r u
NotButter: Actually, I just woke up
NotButter: American?
kitty_hime: yea
NotButter: I’m Swedish
NotButter: My sleep schedule’s fucked tho so I play on the
American servers lol
I’ve never met anyone from another country. I know Lili lives in California, too, while Riku’s on the opposite coast, in New York. Most of my online friends are from the continental United States, except a guy named Snowy from Honolulu. It makes sense; similar time zones means similar active hours. The novelty of NotButter’s foreignness intrigues me. I don’t know anything about Sweden other than Ikea and “Caramelldansen.” I wonder if he has an accent.
NotButter: You should sleep my dear
NotButter: We’ll chat soon ;)
§
Since we’re in the middle of standardized testing, we get out of school before lunch. Most of the week, I head straight home after the bell so I can hop online, but in the ten-minute break between tests, Divya asks if I want to go to Starbucks with our usual lunch group on Friday. I’d rather stick pins in my eyes, but I agree. My mom is always thrilled whenever I spend time offline.
We meet up with the others in front of the media center to walk to the Starbucks down the street from campus. Divya hugs Lisette, Kiko, and Rayan, and I stand awkwardly at her side waiting for someone to talk to me, but they don’t. Not that I’m surprised. I know I’m not one of them. They only let me tag along because I’m Divya’s best friend. Or rather, I used to be. I’m not sure anymore where I fall within her rankings.
At Starbucks we order Frappuccinos and they all talk shit about Jenna Liang, who made the foolish mistake of slipping a letter in Rayan’s locker confessing she has a crush on him. Kiko and Lisette pass the love note around the group, reading excerpts aloud. I’ve liked you ever since Ms. Villalobos sat us next to each other, Kiko reads, pitching up his voice to sound like the ugliest girl I’ve ever heard, and I was wondering if you’d go with me to the dance? Rayan keeps trying to snatch the letter back—Not cool, guys—but Kiko and Lisette keep it out of his reach. Divya doesn’t do anything to stop them, which makes me resent her more than I did before.
Jenna is so far down the nerds-geeks-dorks totem pole, they don’t have a word for what she is. Lisette blames Jenna for being delusional enough to think Rayan would date some fugly bitch. I sort of agree—Rayan is way out of her league. I mean, Rayan isn’t the cutest guy in class—that’d be Steve and Luca, the half-Black, half-Korean twins—but he’s cute in an average way, slightly athletic and dark eyebrows. Part of me still hopes Rayan will defy the unspoken rules of our school’s highly stratified social structure and reciprocate Jenna’s feelings, but maybe that’s because I’m hoping for my own Kimi Ni Todoke moment. I want someone refreshing and beautiful to notice me, even if I look like the girl from The Ring.
Divya leans over the coffee table and asks me if I’m going to the dance. I make a show of rolling my eyes. So not my scene. I wouldn’t have thought it’d be hers either—we’d always been more of the stay-home-and-watch-a-Miyazaki-movie type—but she says she’s planning to go as a group with Lisette and them. You should come, she says.
Speaking of the dance, Lisette interjects, I need a dress. Wanna hit Newpark?
My sister can drive us, Divya offers, which is annoying because she was supposed to be my ride home. I mean-mug her, except she isn’t looking at me. She’s looking at everyone else, this overeager puppy-dog expression on her face, which makes me want to gag.
I don’t think we’re gonna fit? Rayan says, assessing the size of the group. I could almost swear his gaze lingers on me.
One of y’all could sit on my lap, Kiko says.
Not a chance, Lisette says.
I have to go home anyway, I say. My parents want me to eat dinner with them. This is half-true—my mom guilt-trips me whenever I skip dinner with her and my dad, but I know she’d rather I stay out than game all afternoon. I’m online from the second I get home, to the moment I fall asleep, with only a brief intermission for food. Even then, I sometimes say I’m not hungry so I don’t have to step away from my friends.
I leave Divya and the rest of them to wait for their ride while I walk back to school to catch the bus, eager to hop on Maple.
§
When I get home, Riku and Lili are Henehoeing in our usual spot in the Hunting Grounds with NotButter. I join the ongoing group call with Riku and Lili right as Lili is rambling about promposals, and I fill them in on the Jenna/Rayan incident. Poor girl, Riku says. I didn’t consider that he might relate.
I spend the weekend doing dungeons with Riku, Lili, and NotButter. Turns out NotButter fits well into our group dynamic, the charismatic male counterpart to Riku’s aw-shucks awkward type. He tells us to call him Butter, because NotButter is my father. :P
Even in-game, Butter is charming. Maybe it’s because he has access to a wider range of emotes with his abundance of NX, though his favorite expression is smooches. When Riku asks Butter how he can spend so much IRL cash on NX, he explains that he works part-time at an electronics shop and can afford to sink a portion of his paycheck into the game, especially since they sell NX gift cards in-store.
After two weeks of teaming up with Butter for boss runs, I ask Lili and Riku if they’re cool with me inviting him to our anime night. My palms sweat when I pose the question, so much so that I have to wipe them on my pajama pants. It shouldn’t be a big deal. I’ve added a bunch of Maple people on Skype to make it easier to communicate during boss runs, but Lili, Riku, and I have always kept our inner circle intimate.
You wanna invite that noob to anime night? Riku asks.
He’s not a noob, I say, trying and failing not to sound defensive. He’s almost at level cap.
Whatever, Riku says. He’s probably some horny dweeb recruiting girls for his harem guild.
Then why’d he ask you to join? I ask. You’re a guy.
Hey, my character is kawaii as heck, Riku says. Easy mistake.
Ignore him, Kitty, Lili says. Go ahead and invite him.
I /whisper to Butter on the in-game chat and ask if he has Skype. He /whispers back with his handle, same as his IGN.
He accepts my contact request right away. His profile picture is a self-portrait, the camera angled downward so his face occupies most of the frame. Tousled bangs cover almost half his face, pale and dotted with freckles or acne scars. I don’t know what I expected he’d look like. He’s kind of cute. I add him to the call.
Hello? he asks. Can you hear me? His voice is deeper than I anticipated, a little scratchy, like he has an itch in his throat. I try to match it to the face in the photo, imagine that Hello? emerging from those lips.
Welcome to the dark side, Riku says. We have cookies.
Hey, man, Butter says. Thanks for the invite.
Hey, Butter, Lili says, sort of sing-songy. She’s such a girly-girl, it makes me self-conscious about how I sound. When I say Hi, it comes out a soft squeak.
Gotta be honest, I’m kinda disappointed, he said. You all get to see my face, but your guys’ pictures are all drawings.
Hey, I drew those, Lili said. She and I both use chibis she’d drawn of our Maple characters—even her artwork is unbearably cute—whereas Riku requested she draw fan art of his favorite Kingdom Hearts character.
For real? Butter asks. They’re pretty good.
Thanks, she says. I take commissions, if you want one. I’m gonna start selling them at conventions too.
Might have to take you up on that, Butter says. But yeah, I wish I could see you guys. At least give me an idea of how you look.
Just your average seventeen-year-old fat-ass, Riku says.
You shouldn’t talk about yourself like that, Butter says.
Just telling the truth.
So you’re seventeen, Butter confirms. I’m nineteen. How about the rest of you?
I’m eighteen, Lili says.
Sixteen, I say.
Nice, he says. So I’m the oldest.
I like your accent, Butter, Lili says, which makes me kind of jealous, even if it’s just a compliment. Where’re you from?
Sweden, he says. What about you? I can’t tell from your picture.
Very funny, she deadpans. I’m Mexican.
And you, Kitty?
He can’t see me, but I clam up, hyperconscious of how haggard I look right this second. It’s late Saturday night and I haven’t washed my hair since yesterday morning, before I ran the mile in P.E.
Short, Asian, I say. Long black hair.
How long?
All the way down to my butt.
Sounds sexy.
I grab a handful of my hair and examine the dead ends, the utter lack of volume or shape in even my healthy hair, which stops well above my hips and is always oily despite my washing it every other day.
I wish you’d show your faces, Butter says again. I’m curious.
Trust me, Riku says—I forgot he and Lili were even in the call—None of you wanna see this ugly mug.
Anyway, Butter says, what are we watching?
Have you seen Lovely☆Complex? Lili asks.
Never heard of it, he says. What’s that?
I explain the premise: tall girl, short guy. Divya and I first encountered the series in the manga aisle at Borders last summer, but we grew impatient waiting for the North American releases and turned online for fan translations of the original Japanese. We caught up on the back issues over the summer, but by the time the scans for the final volume were uploaded to MangaFox at the start of the school year, Divya had already disavowed her previous otaku inclinations in favor of more mainstream interests, like The CW and e.l.f. Cosmetics.
Tall girl, short guy? he repeats.
I confirm.
That’s it? he asks. That can’t possibly be interesting.
Trust me, I say, dropping the KissAnime link in the chat.
The live action movie is a decent adaptation, but the anime is superior. Koizumi is much taller (sixteen centimeters!) than Otani, which emphasizes the unlikely couple trope. It leans into the comedic aspect of the series, embracing the All Hanshin Kyojin dynamic, and the animation opens up the opportunity for gags that would be impossible to execute in 3D, like the protagonists taking direct hits to their egos from missiles.
Pool episode right off the bat, Butter comments as soon as the end theme starts. Not gonna lie, that was fun.
Told you so, I tease.
My man Suzuki has a point though, he adds. Short girls are objectively better.
I make a mental checkmark.
You wouldn’t date someone taller than you? Lili asks.
Never. That’s emasculating, Butter says. Maybe I’d consider someone slightly shorter than me, but I prefer petite girls. Back me up, Riku.
Oh, I don’t know. . .Riku says. He always clams up when we talk about things like this.
Anyway, this was fun, Lili says. I have work in the morning, so I gotta head out, but we should do this again.
Ditto, Riku says. It’s getting late here. Night, nerds.
They both drop out of the call.
Shouldn’t you sleep soon too? I ask Butter. The time display on my screen indicates it’s almost midnight, and he’s nine hours ahead. Isn’t it morning for you?
I can stay up a bit longer, he says. Not tired. Plus, I like talking to you.
I squeeze my hands tight, trying to channel the pent-up feelings into my fists.
Forgive me if this is invasive, he says, but—what’s your real name?
All of my online friends address each other only by our IGNs. Since we all adopted these identities specific to our online selves, asking for the names we answer to in the real world feels intrusive. As though we aren’t who we say we are. Yet, when Butter asks, I interpret it as an invitation to intimacy.
Nina, I say.
Nina, he repeats. I love the way my name sounds in his voice. His accent makes the syllables sound exotic. A lovely name.
What’s your real name? I ask.
Arthur, he says.
Arthur, I repeat.
He says he wants to know more about me, so we play twenty questions. We take turns asking, and both answer every prompt. We start with easy stuff, like favorite movies—he chooses The Blair Witch Project, and I’m embarrassed when I volunteer the Harry Potter movies as my pick, even after my disclaimer about being a total lesbian for Emma Watson—and favorite manga—his is Bleach and mine is Boys Over Flowers. When I tell him I would choose bubble tea as the only dessert I’d eat for the rest of my life, he goes, Balls, huh? You like balls in your mouth? I laugh, only slightly embarrassed by the innuendo.
We breeze through the existential questions, like whether we believe in a higher power—we’re both agnostic—what we think happens when we die—nothing—and if we believe in fate—yes. He asks, if I could go anywhere in the world, where would I go? I’m not sure if he’s fishing for a particular response, so I play it safe and say Japan, specifically Akihabara for the maid cafes. I feel guilty when he chooses California, but also flattered, though I’m sure it’s a coincidence.
I ask who he can be himself with. He says there are a few guys he grew up with, but they aren’t as close as they used to be, especially after graduation.
I tell him about Divya and me drifting apart, and how I feel like I need to be someone else at school. He encourages me to drop my fake friends and focus on my real ones. I explain that I feel most myself with my online friends, even if they only know me through Maple.
We get stuck at eighteen questions, exhausting the generic getting-to-know-each-other topics. It’s his turn to come up with the next one, and a few minutes pass in which neither of us says anything. It’s almost two o’clock. I’ve never pulled an all-nighter, but I like the idea of being awake when no one else is. It’s like a rite of passage, crossing into the realm of the worldly and experienced.
Arthur teases me when I yawn and asks if I’m sure I want to keep going. I loop the cord for my headset around my monitor so it doesn’t unplug from my PC as I crawl into bed. I don’t want our game to end.
Lying with my head to the pillow, I listen for the faint wheeze when he inhales. My eyes shut, and I imagine him facing me as we whisper our answers, his subtly parted lips close enough for me to feel his breath with every exhale.
Okay, here’s my question. He pauses. Do you like anyone?
Pass.
Since when are we allowed to pass?
Since now.
Unbelievable.
Your turn. Same question.
He sighs, but I can tell he isn’t really annoyed. More like amused. Okay, fine. Yes.
Who? I ask.
Is that your question?
Yes.
Pass.
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me.
Have you ever kissed anyone? he asks.
No, I say, flustered. Have you?
Yeah.
I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. I want to know more—who, when—but I’m afraid I won’t like his answers. I shouldn’t be jealous, but I am.
We surpass twenty questions but continue our conversation without the structured back and forth of the game. He asks what type of guys I think are attractive—anime characters and guys who look like Cristofer Drew—whether I touch myself—duh, girls masturbate too—and what I think about when I do. I don’t talk about this stuff with anyone—not Divya, or Lili, or Riku—but I don’t think twice about telling Arthur. I can tell him anything.
We talk about where we see ourselves in the future, what we want out of life. He doesn’t laugh when I say I want to be courted like in a shoujo anime. He calls me a hopeless romantic. Says he thinks it’s sweet.
§
Arthur sends me Bright Eyes lyric videos on Skype while I’m asleep and he’s at work. Over the next few weeks, we develop a routine of calling one another when I get home from school, which coincides with when he finishes his post-work nap. Arthur and I stay on our call until one or both of us crashes, waking up in the middle of the night to the other person’s breathing. I bring the headset into bed and fall back asleep, soothed by the sound of his snore.
Meanwhile at school, I spend lunch with Divya and her friends at whichever one of the blue picnic tables is open. Since I’m the only one who doesn’t stop to talk at the lockers, I’m the first to the courtyard, so I get to choose the spot. I set my binder down on the grimy surface and fish my thermos out of my backpack. I slurp lukewarm lomi and pull out my sketchbook—which is just a notepad with unlined paper—while waiting for the rest of the group to gather. I keep my head down and practice drawing headshots; I can only draw profiles in three-quarter view. When I sense people approaching my peripheral vision, I peer up and squint, sun in my eyes, and recognize Lisette and Divya, who have science together the period before lunch.
Hey, Divya says.
Hey, I say.
They haul their junk onto the table. Technically it’s no phones allowed, even at lunchtime, but Lisette’s Motorola Razr slides out of her brown pleather handbag when it hits the table. She can hardly fit her binder in there, and most times she cradles it in her arms from class to class. I don’t know why she bothers with the purse if she has to visit her locker every passing period anyway.
I return to my sketch, squinting again as I shade in the irises. Hey, Lisette says. At first, I ignore her, but when she repeats herself, I look up and see she’s looking at me.
Yeah?
Wanna know something? she asks.
Divya stares at her, the dip between her thick brows crinkled. Even though her mom let her start threading this year, I can’t tell the difference.
What? I ask, trying not to sound too interested.
Lisette leans across the table, close to me. They’re both across the table from me, even though there’s no one at either side of me. She curls her finger in a come-hither motion, so I lift myself off the seat a little to lean in. She looks around as if to make sure no one’s coming, but Rayan is on his way over, toting the duffel in which he carries his track-and-field gear.
Lisette whispers: Rayan likes you.
Divya’s eyes go wide, then she looks at me, but she doesn’t say anything. Lisette smirks.
Rayan drops his bag on one of the benches between me and Lisette and Divya. How’s it going guys?
Oh, Rayan, Lisette sings, then tilts her head at me. Why don’t you sit next to Nina?
Divya looks mortified. Rayan’s face goes blank, like he doesn’t get what’s happening, but then it clicks, and he looks at me like I’m an injured puppy. It’s that look that gets me. Or maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t even address me, but instead turns to Lisette and goes, C’mon guys, that’s messed up.
I’m just playing, Lisette says. She nods to me. We’re just playing, right?
Yeah, I say, nodding back as if to say, we’re good, then keep my head down and resume drawing. My hand is unsteady, so the curve of the nose isn’t as smooth as I want it to be. I twirl my mechanical pencil around to erase it so I can try again, but the graphite’s stained the cheap paper, so the mark doesn’t fully disappear.
§
When I get home, I reject my mom’s offer to try the new rice crackers she picked up at Marina and head straight to my room. Every day, same thing—I haven’t put my headset on yet, so I hear her from the other side of the closed door—computer na naman. While I wait for my PC to boot up, I touch the tip of my thumb to my bottom lip and resist the urge to bite the nail. I don’t want to talk to anyone except Arthur. He answers my call on the third ring.
Hey, he says. How was school?
I can’t unsee the pity on Rayan’s face.
Good, I guess, I say, eager to deflect the attention away from myself. How was your day?
Fine, he says. Work was kinda rough.
What happened?
Manager shouting, accusing me of stealing merchandise, he says. I imagine him waving a dismissive hand in the air. Silly stuff.
What the hell? I ask. Are you okay?
I’m chill, he says. I’d like a distraction though.
Me too.
Maple? he asks.
Sure.
I load the game and log in. Riku and Lili are online, as expected. As I’m about to message them, a dialog pops up in the center of my screen:
NotButter has requested engagement. Will you accept this proposal?
OK. CANCEL.
Arthur, I say. What is this?
I like you, Nina, he says. Will you be my girlfriend?
My mind is still on school. How Rayan looked sorry for me. I don’t even like him like that. We’re from different worlds. He goes to dances with girls like Lisette and I stay home to read shoujo manga, fantasizing about finding my own Otani or Kazehaya. I know I’m not like other girls, but Arthur understands me. He shares my interests, thinks it’s sweet that I’m a sucker for romance. And he’s romantic. Our relationship transcends whatever bullshit the immature couples at school get caught up in. What we have is real.
I like you too, Arthur. I click OK. A Moonstone Ring materializes in my inventory.
§
Now that Arthur’s my boyfriend, Riku and Lili have given me permission to add him to our Skype group, but usually he and I talk on a private call and type to the other two in the chat. Even when we’re with others, or off doing our own things, we stay connected.
the_real_riku: Any plans for Memorial Day weekend?
NotButter: Not a holiday here, so I have work as usual
AngelLili: Sorry to hear you have work, Butter :(
AngelLili: I’m finally going to that con with Skater Boi and our
friends!
NotButter: That’s right, you mentioned you’re selling your chibi
drawings this year
kitty_hime: which con??
AngelLili: Fanime in San Jose
kitty_hime: no way
kitty_hime: that’s so close to me
kitty_hime: r u from the bay??
AngelLili: Yes! I’m in Hayward!
kitty_hime: no fuckin way
kitty_hime: im in union city
AngelLili: OMG We’re neighbors~
the_real_riku: :-0
NotButter: What a coincidence :o
AngelLili: We should meet up!
Lili sends me a private message inviting me to meet after school that Thursday before she heads to the convention center. She offers to pick me up, but I say I don’t feel comfortable with that—not that I don’t trust her, just a precaution when meeting strangers from the internet. Totally understand, she says. It’s scary out there, especially for girls like us. She suggests meeting in a public place closer to me instead. There’s a Starbucks by your school, right? We could meet there~
I ask my mom for permission to stay out with Divya after school on Thursday. She asks if I need her to drive us anywhere. I tell her Divya’s sister will take us and hurry upstairs before she can ask more questions. I didn’t really invite Divya—I knew she’d judge me, and there’s no way I could recover from the Rayan incident anyway.
Thursday afternoon, the Starbucks where Lili and I agreed to meet is flooded with Logan students fresh from school. Everyone is in a group. A pack of popular kids has taken over the comfy chairs and their accompanying ottomans. Meanwhile, the community table along the back wall accommodates at least three distinct sets of study buddies. Everyone else is huddled around the standing tables, sipping Frappuccinos, leaning in closer to better hear their friends over the blenders. Once I get to the end of the line to order, I pull my phone out of my pocket and feign boredom, like I’ve been here before. Like I belong here.
I try not to be obvious as I glance up from my Nokia screen to scope out my surroundings, taking stock of who’s in the room. My eyes settle on a girl a few people ahead of me in line. She’s tall, Latina. She has a cellphone, car keys, and a Legend of Zelda wallet all in one hand, a bright yellow Jansport backpack slung over her shoulder with a chibi Link keychain. When she glances over her shoulder, I pretend to text, pressing random buttons, trying not to betray awareness of being watched, or that I, too, am watching. I worry she’ll know it’s me.
When she reaches the front of the line, she tells the barista her name is Angelina. At the sound of her real name, I’m satisfied. I got to see her and she didn’t recognize me. As she unclasps her Triforce wallet, I slip out of line and slink toward the exit. One of the guys who was behind me calls out Aye, little girl, where you goin’? but I don’t look back. Aight, guess it’s my turn then. I push through the door and don’t slow until I’m at the bus station.
§
I don’t talk to Riku or Lili for the rest of the holiday weekend. I tell Lili that I got held up after school for a makeup test, and that’s why I couldn’t meet her. I’m too nervous to talk to Riku so I set my Skype status to invisible while I sit on a call with Arthur, playing Maple on a different server than usual.
When I’m ready to talk to them again, I see Riku online but not Lili. I chalk it up to her recovering from the convention. I call Riku and he answers after a few rings.
Hey, he says. I missed ya.
Missed you too, I say. Meet in Henesys?
Sure, he says. Just let me finish this party quest.
Who are you PQing with?
Just some random people I found in Kerning.
Oh. I didn’t realize that Riku ever played Maple without us. Have you heard from Lili since she got back from the con?
Yeah, she said she sold a ton of prints, he says. Got a little overwhelmed trying to keep up with commissions, but she’s rolling in dough.
Good for her, I say. Did she say anything about Skater Boi?
She confessed!
Part of me is jealous that I didn’t get to hear it from Lili herself, but I’m the one who’s been avoiding her.
They’re together now, he adds.
OMG, finally! I’ve enjoyed living vicariously through Lili’s frequent updates on their friends-to-lovers slow-burn, so this is a satisfying conclusion to their courtship. I’ve always dreamt of a similarly heart-warming meet-cute of my own. In the moment, I almost forget that I’ve already met someone. Now we both have boyfriends.
About that, he says. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.
About what?
Lili messaged me the other day, he says. She said you flaked on her?
I had to make up a test, I say.
He doesn’t say anything for a minute.
She said when she went to meet you, there was this weird girl staring at her the whole time, he says. Like trying to be discreet, but unsuccessfully.
He pauses for a reaction, but I stay silent.
She also said the girl was, like, a kid.
I bring my nails to my teeth.
I wanted to talk to you before I said anything to Lili, he says. You’re my best friend—online or offline—so I hope you don’t take this the wrong way.
I start in at the corners and work my way across each half-moon until I tear off a piece, spitting it into my palm before dropping it into the tiny plastic bin beneath my desk.
Remember when we first started talking? You said your parents took you to Disneyland for your sweet sixteen, he says. That was two years ago.
I start at the nails on my other hand, gnawing at the keratin.
But I was talking to Arthur the other day, and he said he wants to surprise you for a ‘sweet seventeen,’ Riku says. He thinks your birthday’s in July.
It is. I’m a Leo.
It’s the first thing I’ve said in a while.
Then I remembered last year, we watched Sixteen Candles for your birthday because you turned sixteen. Which would mean you turned sixteen twice.
I don’t say anything.
How old are you? he asks.
Sixteen.
Kitty, he says, voice stern. C’mon. Promise I won’t be mad.
Using my teeth, I tug at a piece of the nail on my ring finger, except instead of ripping straight across, the tear runs into the nailbed.
Twelve.
Holy shit.
You said you weren’t gonna be mad.
I—he whooshes out an exasperated sigh—Fuck.
It’s not that big a deal, I tell him. I turn thirteen in July. You wouldn’t have even noticed if he didn’t say anything.
Jesus Christ, Kitty, he says. I don’t think you understand the gravity here.
Don’t talk down to me, I say. I know what I’m doing.
Has he asked you for—he stutters—pictures?
None of your business.
This is serious, he says. That’s child pornography.
I’m not a fucking child.
Jesus fucking Christ, he sighs. You have to tell him.
No way.
So you admit that there’s something wrong with this ruse you got going on.
No, it’s just—I feel lightheaded—what if he stops talking to me when he finds out I lied?
Kitty. Riku says my name like he’s scolding me. You’re twelve. You can’t date a nineteen-year-old.
Age is just a number, I say.
Riku makes a noise like he’s holding a scream in his mouth.
You have to break up with him, he says. If you wanna lie about your age, fine. But I can’t in good conscience let you date a nineteen-year-old.
You don’t control me, I say.
If you don’t end it, I’ll tell him how old you are, he says. You think he’ll stick around then?
You can’t do that. I would shout, except that I don’t want my parents to overhear and ask what’s wrong. I fucking hate you. You’re just jealous, you fucking neet.
That shuts him up. Lili and I have never discussed it, but we know better than to bring up the fact that Riku doesn’t leave the house or have any IRL friends. And I’ve thrown it in his face. I would feel bad if not for him threatening me.
Stay out of it, I say. And leave me the fuck alone.
§
Arthur and I join a new server to avoid Riku and Lili. He doesn’t press when I say I don’t want to discuss why I’m not talking to them. He introduces me to his friends when they come home from uni for the summer. They try to include me when we do boss runs, but it’s easier for them to speak Swedish, so mostly I just listen. Arthur’s even more attractive speaking in his native tongue.
After his friends log off, Arthur stays on so we can have alone time.
I was doing some research, he says. There’s a small hotel in your city.
It’s not really a city. It’s more of a town, I explain. There’s nothing to do except indoor skydiving, but no one does that.
Indoor skydiving?
Yeah.
Sounds paradoxical.
Why were you researching UC?
Lili mentioned another anime convention in the summer—
Anime Expo. That’s in SoCal.
SoCal?
Southern California.
Right, he says. I was thinking, we have a convention here in Sweden, but it’s not as big as the one over there. I thought maybe I could visit you in California and we could go together.
My soul leaves my body. Is this what Riku meant about Arthur wanting to surprise me?
But that’s in SoCal, I repeat. I’m in NorCal, which is really, really far. It’s, like, a seven-hour drive.
What’s another seven hours when I’m already flying across the ocean to see you?
I consider the possibility of him already having bought a ticket, which sends my body into panic mode.
You can’t fly to California just to see me.
Why not? he asks.
My parents wouldn’t let me see you.
We could find a way to meet up, he says.
I want to bite my nails but they haven’t grown out. Subconsciously I scratch my neck, the scraggly edges extra sharp.
Let me think about it, I say, but I’ve made up my mind. I’m getting kinda tired. I think I’m going to sleep.
This early?
Yeah.
Goodnight, dear, he says. Love you.
I hang up without saying it back. He’ll be at work when I wake up. I can block him then.
§
I take a break from the online world and focus on finishing seventh grade. My only final exam is in Algebra I, since it’s a high school class, and the teacher says high schoolers take finals. I don’t do well enough on the test or in the class to move on to Geometry, but Divya does. My parents are disappointed. When I tell my mom that I’m not feeling well, she seems skeptical, like I’m making another excuse to sit at the computer all day, but I spend the weekend next to her on the sofa, curled under a blanket, watching corny soaps in a language I hardly understand. She slices honeydew into cubes and tells the school attendance clerk that I have cramps. Divya texts to ask where I’ve been, but I don’t respond. I like being off the grid, and the thought of my classmates wondering where I am, even if they aren’t thinking of me at all.
A few days into summer vacation, I log into Skype, my status set as invisible. Riku and Lili are both online, but I don’t interact. I click the tab to view messages from blocked users and see that Arthur’s written a whole paragraph:
NotButter: Why did you block me? I have to say I’m surprised.
I was under the impression things were going well between us
and that we had a unique connection. I’ve shared things
with you that I haven’t told anyone before, online or in real
life. I don’t understand why you’re doing this. Please tell me
what’s wrong so we can talk about this maturely.
I hop on Maple and delete Arthur, Riku, and Lili from my Buddy List before joining a new server. I camp out in Henesys Market and start talking to new players. Even though the bandwagon passed, the community thrives. There are always new people to meet.
PAULA MIRANDO is a queer Pinay writer from the Bay Area. Her writing has been supported by the Kearny Street Workshop Interdisciplinary Writers Lab, Voices of Our Nations Arts Foundation, and Philippine American Writers and Artists. Her fiction appears in Waxwing and Cutleaf. She is currently working on a collection of linked short stories.
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