“Exactly! They just don’t know what it’s like to not be white in a place full of white people! I kind of loved that about tonight. I feel like my parents felt how I always feel. I don’t think they’ve ever been such a small minority before. It’s not the same, though, since they just got to see all the fun stuff, and then go back home to their comfortable house where they never have to think about race. I can’t really talk to my parents or Amber about this kind of thing.”
“Or . . . Jenna?” I ask.
Bo sighs. “I was hoping you wouldn’t bring that up. I don’t know why I was looking at her Instagram. It’s like I hate her so much I want to know what she’s doing, you know? I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Do you still like her?” I ask, the question burning my throat.
“No! I . . . I have a girlfriend. I don’t . . .” She buries her face in her hands. “I was just trying to get out of my own head, so I got on my phone, and I happened to see her picture, and then I just got mad and started angry-scrolling through her Instagram, you know? Ugh, I sound ridiculous. I should have just enjoyed the show, but I was jealous and I hated feeling that way about you, so I needed to distract myself.”
“I get that,” I say. I’ve definitely angry-scrolled through Bianca’s Instagram more than once. “Are you still feeling that way?”
“Jealous?” Bo starts picking at her fingernails. “Not really. I know tonight was about you. I just haven’t ever had my night, you know? I’m used to being the only one like me in any room.”
“The only one who’s Chinese?”
“Chinese, gay, et cetera.”
In lak’ech.
“That must be hard.” I know it’s hard not being white or straight. But I can’t tell her that.
She nods. “I feel like I’m always the elephant in the room no one wants to talk about. Do you know what I mean? I make people uncomfortable just by existing, but no one wants to acknowledge it. I know I have it easier than a lot of people because of my parents, and because I’m light-skinned, but I still feel like I’m invisible. I’m like Schr?dinger’s gay. I have to shout about being gay and Chinese to prove I actually exist.”
“Is that why you wear the rainbow Vans? And the pins?” I ask.
“It helps not to have to come out to every new person all the time.”
“That’s smart. But aren’t you ever afraid to like, come off too gay?” I know I would be.
“Yeah, sometimes . . .”
“Is that why you don’t hug girls?”
“What?”
“I mean, you hug your parents a lot, and David sometimes. But hardly ever me and Amber. At first I thought you didn’t like me, but Amber’s your best friend, so maybe it’s a girl thing?”
She’s quiet for a while. “Well, yeah. I guess it is a girl thing. I don’t want to make you guys feel . . . uncomfortable, or anything.”
I reach my arms out and open and close my hands to invite her to hug me. “I’m comfortable.”
She smiles and accepts the offer. Her sweater makes it feel like I’m hugging a pillow, and I love it. Her hair smells like vanilla. I try not to savor the embrace too long, or else she’ll be the one feeling uncomfortable.
“I love hugs, so you can hug me anytime you want, okay?” I say as I pull away so I don’t get lost in that vanilla-smelling pillow.
“Thanks, Yamilet. It’s nice having you here. I’m glad you came.” Her smiling eyes are alluring as always, but I can’t stop staring at her lips.