Steven Salvatore - And They Lived . . .

To every queer person who grew up never seeing themselves in fairy tales but still dreamed of being swept off their feet in a Technicolor love story: this is for you, go find your adventure

To Steve, who swept me off my feet and made me believe I was worthy of being loved: together we lived

Also by Steven Salvatore

Cant Take That Away

CONTENTS

My mother is trying to get me killed.

So, what do you think? Mom asks, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Ive just gotten back to my new dorm room suite with my twelve-year-old sister, Taylor. She couldnt sit still for the short amount of time it took to unpack my entire life, so Id taken her on a walking tour of the campus. We were gone for twenty minutes , which apparently was long enough for Mom to put a scrolly decal on the wall just above the head of my extra-long twin bed that says Once Upon a Time. She might as well have gotten one that says Live, Laugh, Love.

I think Im going to get the shit kicked out of me before classes start, I say.

Chase Arthur, watch your language. Mom nods toward Taylor, who rolls her eyes.

Taylor looks awkward and innocentstill incubating in the stage between ugly duckling and beautiful swanbut I know better.

Sorry. But I stick out my tongue and gesticulate wildly toward the wall. Seriously, Mom. Why ? You know the rules. I swipe my phone from the desk and pull up the email about move-in day. Only adhere things to the walls with tacky stuff. My fingers pinch the air.

Mom waves her hand dismissively and glances toward the corkboard above my desk at my high school Drama King picture. Oh, relax, youre such a drama queen.

I was not in the drama club or anything like that. I was crowned Most Dramatic, aka Drama King, aka the person most likely to cause a whole scene and then gossip about it later. Which, fair.

The picture is ripped down the middle. Missing in action: Leila Casablanca, my former best friend, voted Drama Queen. We havent spoken in months, and I seethe when I think about how Ill probably run into her because she just had to come to my college. But I love this picture of me, so I keep it. Seriously, I fucking sparkle in a tiara.

The sign peels right off, Mom continues, ripping the e at the end of Time , so now it reads Once Upon a Tim.

Youre gonna get me written up by RA Tim , I say. RA Tim is so cute I could cry, so, okay, that wouldnt be the worst thing.

Its a sign, Taylor chimes in, reading my mind, her legs dangling off the edge of my perfectly made bed. You should make a move.

My face heats. Taylor!

Mom goes silent. Then, You know to use protection, right?

My eyes widen. Ahhhh, whenareyouleaving ?

Taylor erupts in a witchy cackle.

This is why we requested an early move-in. Its better that we get all this embarrassing crap out of the way now before other people have to witness it. My three other suitemates arrive tomorrow with the rest of the freshman class, but Mom, in her infinite wisdom, knew Id be an anxious mess and would need to carve out my space first.

Youll miss me when Im gone, Mom says.

When ya going? I wont admit this out loud, but I will miss her.

Taylor goes quiet. Her face scrunches up the way it does when shes about to cry. It amazes me how, no matter how old she gets, she never loses the ability to cry on a dime. What sucks is that Im the reason for her tears now.

Hey, stop. I hop onto the bed. Mom sidles up on her other side. Im not going to be gone forever. Ill be back for your birthday and maybe Thanksgiving and definitely Christmas and probably a bunch of weekends in between because, seriously, this place is a hole.

Which obviously isnt true because this campus is everything .

But it elicits a mucusy giggle from Tay. Ill take what I can get.

Mom sucks a long breath through her nose and glances out the window. The sky is streaked with a late-summer hot orange. We really should get on the road, Taylor-bean.

With that, all the frustration and exhaustion from packing up my entire existence back home, driving four hours upstate, and unpacking said existence into this tiny room is replaced by an overwhelming sadness that sucks all the air out of the room.

I dont want them to go.

Im not ready for this.

The finality of it. That once they walk out of this suite and out of this dorm and get into their car, theyre gone, leaving me behind.

You could stay. My suitemates wont be here until the morning. Theres

Mom grabs my hand and squeezes. As much as I want to move in here for the rest of the school year She pauses, clearly contemplating it. I think we should get on the road.

Whatre you gonna do, alone? Taylor asks.

I know its not meant to be a serious gut punch, but I stammer, Chill. Me time. Maybe Ill do some sketching. Get a jump on some animation projects I wanna start this semester. Be a strong, independent person and all that.

Whatll probably happen is Ill end up watching a marathon of Disney movies on my laptop and falling asleep in a puddle of tears because theres nothing to do when the campus is practically empty. The sportsball people have been moved in for a few weeks already, but I cant honestly imagine me, uncoordinated queer AF Disnerd Chase Arthur, just, like, wandering up to the athletes dorm being all, Hey, wanna party? I got the Moana sing-along on iTunes. The thought alone makes me break out in a cold sweat.

Sounds like a great time, Taylor deadpans. She mashes her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

Hell call Rae, Mom says. Wont you, sweetheart? She moved into her dorm last weekend, right?

I told you this already, I begin. Rae and I made a pact that we would not call or see each other until at least the first full week of school is done. You know, so that we give each other time to find ourselves or whatever.

In one week, youre going to find yourselves? Taylors glasses fall to the tip of her nose again. She purses her lips as she turns toward Mom. Hell call her the second we leave.

Rae Ackerman is my actual best friend. She goes to the pristine little Ivy League school Laurene University, which is, no joke, two miles away from me at CIA, Cayuga Institute of the Arts. We didnt design it that way. She didnt tell anyone, not even me, that she even applied to Laurene, let alone that it was her first choice, because she was so superstitious. She told me it killed her to keep it from me, especially when I told the entire senior class, the janitorial staff, teachers, school board, and the flock of pigeons that posted up outside our high school that CIA was my number one and that if I didnt get in, my future career as Walt Disney Animation Studios head animator was DOA. Rae is my more practical other half. My very tall, very extra other half.

You dont know me, I say with a smirk.

I packed a surprise for you, Taylor whispers. Top drawer, next to your socks.

My eyes narrow at her. The fuck?

Mom slaps me playfully upside my head. She snaps her fingers, a cue for Taylor to get off my bed, get her shoes on, and ready herself for a car ride home filled with tears and an inevitable playlist of Disney musical numbers to remember me by.

As if its my funeral.

But they do a great job holding themselves together. At least until our slow march out of the suite. And into the hallway. And down the stairs (because Mom is way too antsy for the elevator). And out the main entrance of the dorm. And into the empty parking lot to her car, where, upon arrival, she looks at me and bursts into tears.