Beam - I Am J

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright 2011 by Cris Beam

Discussion Questions Copyright 2011 by Hachette Book Group

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ISBN 978-0-316-12232-0

For Lo,
mon coeur

In fond memory of
Bella Martinez
19802004

J could smell the hostility, the pretense, the utter fakeness of it all before they even climbed the last set of stairs. He was going to this party for Melissa, though she knew hed hate it, though shed have friends to talk to and J would stand there in the corner like a plastic tree, sucking at a beer, steaming in his too-many shirts and humiliation. The stairs were already sticky with spilled drinks, and reggaeton thumped through the door.

Come on, J, you have to go with me. Daniels gonna be there, Melissa had whined to him earlier that day at school. They were sharing a Diet Coke in the schools emergency stairwell. The place was littered with cigarette butts and graffiti; every few days, some student dismantled the alarm, looking to sneak off and smoke. Daniel was Melissas latest crush, a quiet guy who played chess with the old men in Washington Square Park and who always had a Strand book bag over one shoulder. J thought he was pretentious.

I hate parties, J had said. And I hate everyone at this school.

Youre so dramatic, Melissa had answered, tapping the brim of Js cap. She leaned her head on Js shoulder. What happened now?

Got called a dyke again. It had happened a thousand times before. Dyke, aggressive, AG, butch. Whatever the names, none of them fit. Hed considered the possibility briefly, when he first realized he was in love with Melissa a few years back, but hed never felt like a lesbian.

Oh, sweetie, Melissa said, lifting her head from Js shoulder and trying to meet his eye. She sounded exactly like Karyn, her mom.

J shrugged off her concern even as he longed for it. He stared straight ahead, steeled his jaw.

I know youre not one, Melissa said. I know you just have your own style, like me. Screw this school. And Melissa paused. She pulled at a binder clip holding back a strand of curly hair. Even if you were gay, it wouldnt be the biggest deal. Its not like a tragedy or anything.

J jiggled his knee. Im not, though.

Okay, dude. I didnt say you were.

Melissa had recently taken to calling J dude, which J loved. In Js mind, if not in anyone elses, he was a he. He couldnt go so far as to actually think of himself as male anymore; he had let that dream go at puberty. Now he tried not to think about gender at all, except when the world outside his brain barged in and forced him to. Which happened about every other minute. Still, saying she felt like something close to blasphemy. In Js head, he was nothing; in Js head, he was just a head, floating, trying to forget he had body parts he hated.

J Melissa started. Come to the party tonight. I want to be with you.

Melissa smelled like amber, cinnamon, and cigarettes. J inhaled, but quietly, so Melissa wouldnt notice. He leaned his head back against her wild hair and gave a tiny nod.

Melissa jiggled open the door to the party, knocking aside some sophomores who had been leaning there. Pot smoke obscured his vision, but J could tell this was a nice place. There was a dining room, separate from the kitchen, with African masks on the wall. Three girls J recognized from math class were sitting on the table, legs swinging, all vying for the attention of a senior boy, who was twirling a drumstick and tapping it alternately on each of their knees. Another couple was making out in the foyer, with the boys oversize jacket wrapped around the girl so people couldnt tell he had his hand up her shirt. J averted his eyes as Melissa took him by the hand. Lets get a drink, she said.

The kitchen counter was a pool of spilled soda and Cisco; next to this were giant bottles of gin labeled in a language J didnt recognize. Theyre out of mixers, somebody said, walking away. Youll have to drink it straight.

Melissa filled two red plastic cups (one already had lipstick on its rim) with warm gin and took a sip. J swallowed a long gulp and tried not to shudder as it burned his throat. He held the cup by his side and followed Melissa toward Daniel, who was smoking a joint and reading in the corner.

Hey, Melissa said, and Daniel looked up, putting a finger in his place. His straight brown hair and pale skin made him look like a zombie. Whatre you reading?

Proust, Daniel answered. But Im getting sick of all the madeleines.

Thats cool. Melissa giggled and turned her foot inward a bit.

J hated how Melissa acted around her crushesoverly sweet and dumb. Hes a fake, J tried to psychically transmit to Melissa. Cant you see that? A total ass.

If you dont like girls named Madeleine, Melissa said, giggling, maybe you should put down your book. You know J, right?

Daniel glanced mildly at J and said, I dont think so. J widened his stance and grimaced. They had met several times beforesitting next to each other on the same ramshackle stage at a school awards ceremony for high math scores, and through Melissa in the hallway. Daniel turned his attention back to Melissa. Have you read Proust?

Dios mo, J said in his head, just the way his mother would. God. He put on his toughest scowl, but he felt, in his mouth, that it looked more like a pucker.

I dont read at parties, Melissa said, smiling flirtily. I socialize. And then, as though she owned the apartment, she added, Can I get you a drink?

J marveled at Melissas social skills as Melissa and Daniel pushed their way back into the kitchen. He sat on the arm of a couch and drank some more gin. This apartment was