And I just put out a video saying that I liked that post by accident.
“Hey, I wanted to clear the air. I liked that post by mistake! I was jetlagged and scrolling on my phone. I just flew home after shooting the music video for ‘Midnight Moonlight.’ We’ve been working really hard on it, so I hope y’all will tune in to watch it when it premieres! And maybe, just maybe, I’ll have a surprise for you soon?”
I’ve never wanted to delete a video so fast after posting. Or my entire account. I just don’t want to be perceived right now. I technically didn’t say I wasn’t aroace, but I also didn’t say I was.
“Always be yourself.” Ms. Williams snaps me out of my reverie. She looks at the crowd of students. “Such great advice. It’s hard to remember that when you’re young. Don’t compromise who you are for someone else. Although Sasha here has always been vocal about who she is. I remember, as a student, her passion was inspiring.” She gives me a complicit smile. By passion she probably means how I used to ditch class and hide in the music room so I could play the grand piano. She often caught me and scolded me, but she always helped me figure out difficult parts in my arrangements. “That’s how you got so successful, my dear.” She leans forward and squeezes my hand, her eyes shining with pride.
Always be yourself.I want to laugh. I can’t be myself and have a career, apparently.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s probably Mia. She’scalled me like five times today, but I haven’t had time to call her back yet. I’m assuming she’s read the news.
“Never mind. You know, I’m actually lying.” The words come out before I can stop them. It’s always like this when I’m nervous. My heart just cracks open. “And I think we all know I am.” Whispers echo across the gym, and people pull out their phones to record. “I went to school here, so can I be honest with you? The key to success is just plain luck. And sure, talent. But there are plenty of talented folks who don’t make it. And plenty of average people who do, just because they’re lucky and privileged. I’m privileged. I’m white and I have a family who was able to support me financially. I started on social media for fun, and I had the time to be creative. My music going viral was luck. I’m sure there are other people out there who are far more talented than I am. So in a way, I’m a fraud, I guess. Most people who get famous are, so don’t look up to them.”
The crowd laughs. They don’t know I mean it. I’m a fraud. This morning I realized that. Seeing how people would react if I came out. Without the drama behind my private life, without people wanting to meetthe boyfriend, I wouldn’t have a career at all. It’s not my music that’s good; it’s the tea.
“I don’t have any advice to give you. I really don’t. I’m just a few years older than you, and I’m still trying to figure things out. But if you’re lucky enough to get a chance to do what you love, don’t waste it. As my mom says, life has no meaning until you find your own. It’s like staring at a blank canvas. It means nothing until you paint it. So, I guess… my advice would be to paint your own canvas and find outwhat it means. Don’t let society tell you what your painting should look like.”
The crowd erupts into cheers. I tense at the sea of phones pointed at my face, and I can feel Marissa’s presence behind me, drilling a hole through my skull. She hates it when I go off-script.
After the speech, I’m escorted to a meet and greet at the other end of the gym. A red carpet has been laid out, and a couple of chairs and a table wait there for people to take pictures with me. Usually I enjoy these events. It gives me an opportunity to interact with fans face-to-face. But today it feels like I’m standing on a precipice, and the crowd is closing in, as if they want to push me over the edge. When did I become so known that casual meet and greets became a scene from a zombie movie?
“Oh my God, I love you.” A girl squeals as she hands me a pencil case to sign. Noises buzz around me, and I have to focus to understand what she’s saying. “‘Summer Blues’ is like… my favorite song of all time.”
“Thanks!” I pose for a selfie. “Are you a junior?”
“Senior.”
“Do you still have Mr. Smith for history?”
“Is it true thatthe boyfriendused to go to our school?” another girl asks out of the blue. “Or is he another singer? My friends and I have a theory.”
“Um, well—” My cheeks burn. On instinct, my eyes dart around the gym, searching for the out-of-service fire exit. It used to be my way to sneak out undetected, but I guess the undetected part is impossible now. All I see in front ofme is an overwhelming wall of excited faces staring right at me. The way everyone’s energy seems to converge on me is suffocating.
“Wait, is it… true that you’re aroace?” a guy asks. Instinctively, I look for Marissa for reassurance, but she left to go to the bathroom. “It was everywhere this morning.”
“For real?” A group of girls snickers, throwing a not-so-subtle look in my direction. I gulp, peeling my eyes away.
“I liked the post by mistake.” My throat tightens. I sound like a broken record. There’s no end to the line of people waiting to see me. I’m cocooned in a storm of noise, and the air feels so hot around me. I motion as if to stand up from my chair. Beside me, my two bodyguards perk up. “Guys, mind if I take a little water break—”
“There’s no boyfriend? It’s all made-up?” The look of disappointment on the student’s face makes my heart sink.I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
“I—”
Fuck, I did not prepare for this. I don’t know what to say. The centrifuge is spinning too fast. I can’t make it stop. I can’t catch my breath.
The overhead lights make my skull pulse, and my palms grow clammy as the sea of people press closer. I hate this. I just need a moment. One moment to breathe and I’ll be fine.
“Okay… give Sassy some breathing room, guys.” One of my bodyguards (I wish I could remember his name, but I only met him an hour before this event) steps forward, forcing the crowd to move back.
“No, it’s okay, I just need a moment—”
The room begins to spin around me. Then, as if echoing the loudness of my thoughts, the shrill wail of the fire alarm breaks through the frantic screams.
What?
I glance around, searching for the source of the commotion. There’s no smoke, but the teachers begin to evacuate the cramped gym. Is this a drill? A false alarm?
Panic courses through me as the sprinklers go off. Cold water splatters against my skin, seeping through my clothes. My guards flank me, rushing to escort me outside as students run for the exit, shielding themselves from the downpour. Bodies slam against me as I’m pushed toward the door, and the weight in my chest doubles, an anchor slowing me down until I can’t move. There are so many people… everywhere. I just need a moment to be alone. Through my peripheral vision, I catch a glimpse of the out-of-service fire exit. It dawns on me then that I have free will, and no one is paying attention to that door.
