Page 155 of Saving Sparrow
I glanced around at the small groups of people watching Kayden. “They’re all staring at you.”
“As they should, honey.” He hadn’t even checked to confirm. “It’s good advertising.”
“What is?”
He walked over—or maybe sashayed was a better word for it—and handed me a flyer. “I do tend to have a soft spot for the dramatics, but I don’t normally walk around dressed like this.”
“Drag night at Queer Life,” I read aloud, a photo of three men dressed similarly to Kayden at the bottom. They posed in front of a restaurant, and although the photo confused me, their joyful smiles made my heart race. Kayden was clearly promoting an event; I just wasn’t clear on what it was.
I looked up to ask him about it, but the silver glitter over his eyelids distracted me. It was easy to make out now that we stood so close. His lashes were extra long and thick, too, coated with something inky that made his hazel eyes stand out.
Along his jawline, in the hollow of his cheekbones, and even the very tip of his nose shimmered bronze under the sun. His lips were glossy pink, and his cheeks were a soft, rosy red even though he wasn’t blushing. Kayden didn’t seem like the type who blushed.
“Queer Life is a restaurant slash lounge not too far from here,” he said, pointing to the flyer when I stared at him in confusion. “My uncle Dolores owns it.”
I couldn’t stop looking at his makeup and thinking about how courageous he was for being out here like this. I’d felt jealousy before—like when Quentin and Miguel got to be lovers while I only got to be their friend. The feeling swirling around my stomach now felt the same but different too. I didn’t want to bewithKayden. I wanted to belikehim. I wanted to be brave.
“Your, um, uncle Dolores,” I said, pulling it together. “Does he dress like you?”
“Sometimes. He loves drag.”
That reminded me of my second question. “What’s drag?”
He laughed, his curls bouncing. “You’ve never heard of drag? What rock have you been living under?”
I could tell he hadn’t said it to be mean, but it stung anyway. Ihadbeen living under a rock, and he’d just reminded me of how much I still didn’t know.
“Sorry,” he said when my cheeks warmed. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I thought maybe you were kidding.”
“No, I wasn’t.” I wished there were a rock close by big enough to hide under right now. “It’s okay.” I took a deep breath, staring at the flyer again. “So, what is it?”
“It’s a performative art.” Kayden waved a hand up and down his body. The corset of his gown looked painfully tight. “It mostly involves an exaggeration of female gender roles and presentation. Men—well, mostly men,” he corrected, “dress up in costumes, wear makeup, create exaggerated personas, etcetera, etcetera… We sing, we dance, participate in drag pageants, some of us do stand-up comedy…” he went on, as if ticking things off a list. “We’re just… Well, we’re queens,” he ended as though that said it all.
Well, I didn’t want to sing and dance; I just wanted what I wore on the outside to match how I felt on the inside, and I didn’t want to be scared to do it. Suddenly, my baggy clothes felt suffocating. “And they’re not afraid to go outside like this?You’renot afraid?”
Kayden’s smile turned from playful to sympathetic, as though he’d heard everything Ididn’tsay in my questions. “I used to be.”
“What changed?”
“Boy, who knew handing out flyers would turn into my revisiting my dark past,” he said dryly.
“Oh, sorry.” I grimaced. We may have been classmates, but we were still strangers. “I shouldn’t have pried.”
“I’m just messing with you.” He exhaled, looking around us as if searching for a place to start. “I used to live in Hansbrook, Nebraska. It doesn’t get any more homophobic than Hansbrook, and even when masculine-presenting, I always stood out. I got bullied into dropping out of college my freshman year. Then I came to Wembly to live with my uncle Dolores. This place, and my uncle… they saved me. Now, I’m twenty-three, starting my freshman year again, and not giving a fuck about what anyone thinks of me.” He snapped his fingers twice to punctuate the point.
“You say Wembly saved you, but people are staring.”
He shrugged. “Wembly prides itself on being a queer-friendly town. The mayor is part of the ‘community.’ Sure, if you look hard enough, you’ll find some assholes, but assholes are everywhere—and thank fuck for that, am I right?” he murmured in a way that made me hot around my collar. Kayden winked at my discomfort.
“You’re cute,” he said before continuing. “Anyway, for the most part, people here stare because they’re curious, not dangerous. And it’s usually the newcomers. I say give ’em a show, honey.” He twirled, and I’d have given anything for even an ounce of his confidence.
“Hey, Kayden,” someone called out. The girl who’d given up her seat for Miguel in our lecture hall approached. She and Kayden hugged, and she took half of his stack of flyers.
“Hi,” she said. “You’re the guy who was ten seconds from being late in Professor Ingram’s class.”
“Yup, that’s me.” I tugged at my shirt collar.
“I didn’t even get your name,” Kayden said. “And I’m Kayden, by the way, which… you already knew because Rachel just yelled it out.”
