Ciel In All Directions Read online

Mael-a smiles. “You got it! I’ll see you there, then. I’m assisting Armand, who runs it.”

  Just then, everyone quiets down when they see the Alliance leaders get up and stand in front. Mael-a waves and goes back to sit with the older kids at the back of the room.

  Jérôme-Lou, the president of the Alliance, who’s always dressed very preppy, opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted right away by someone whistling at him. He winks, and then starts his speech, making big arm movements.

  “Ha ha ha. Hello, dear members! I’m honored to open this third meeting of the Gender and Sexuality Alliance. I hope you’ve had a good week. Ha ha ha. Myself, I had the pleasure of attending an experimental ballet last night, which was in excellent taste and from which I emerged more inspired than ever for this school year. I’ll spare you the details, because you really had to be there to understand the powerful message of the show. Ha ha ha.”

  I poke Stephie with my elbow as I try unsuccessfully to hide my giggling. She rolls her eyes to the ceiling, exasperated.

  Jérôme-Lou continues, “Without further ado, let’s move on to the main affair, which is to say, preparing for the school elections. As you know, each committee representative is elected in a school-wide vote. That means anyone can run. This year, the election will take place on October 17, in about three weeks. Good luck to anyone who wants to run against me, ha ha ha. You also need to present yourselves with a running mate, who will become the Alliance vice-president if you’re elected. I don’t want to discourage you, far from it, but the job of president and vice-president are not fun and games. In addition to making sure the Alliance meetings go off without a hitch, the president needs to attend all the school council meetings and run their projects by the student life director. The vice-president, for his part, needs to assist the president in his tasks and make sure he’s always well coiffed. Ha ha ha. That’s a joke, because Marine, our vice-president, takes care of my hairdo on a fully volunteer basis. But enough with the jokes. It’s important for the vice-president to be prepared for any eventuality and ready to take up the president’s torch as needed….”

  I stop listening, because I find Jérôme-Lou kind of exhausting. Anyway, it’s not like this has anything to do with me: there’s no way I’d run for office. So, I focus on my lunch. Under my sandwich container, I see a note from my father: “I made this sandwich with all my love (and a little bit of mayonnaise).” Yeah, I know, it’s weird that my dad still makes my lunch in high school, but it would break his heart if I asked him to stop.

  I realize that Jérôme-Lou has finished his pompous speech when people start chatting again and moving around the room. Stephie puts her hand on my shoulder. “You know what, Ciel? You should run. You’d be a great president!”

  “Me?! You’ve gotta be joking. I have anxiety attacks every time I need to speak up in class. If there’s any one of us who should be president, it’s you, Ms. Model Student!”

  Stephie flips her hair behind her shoulder as if she were in a shampoo commercial. “Oh, you think so? It’s true that I’m pretty extraordinary.”

  Liam jumps in. “Well, I sure would vote for you two if you ran together. You make such a great team!”

  Zoe exclaims, “Aw, yes! You’re too cute together. Not only would I vote for you, but I ship you!”

  Liam, looking confused, asks, “‘I ship you?’ What does that mean?”

  “It’s when you think two people go well together. You give a name to the ‘ship’ by mixing the two names together. Here, for example, we’d have Ciphie. Or maybe Stephel.”

  “Ha ha! I like Stephel,” says Liam.

  I give him a look of mock discouragement. Zoe and Samira start debating the best name, while Liam laughs behind them. “Vote Stephel! Stephel for president!”

  “Meh! You’re not going to convince me like that.”

  Stephie gives me a squeeze, and proclaims, “Anyway, I don’t need an election to know you’re the president of my heart.”

  Samira and Zoe let out an “awww” in chorus, and I realize I’m not out of the woods.

  2

  Dolores von Tragic Enters the Scene

  I let out a long sigh and let myself flop against the back of the sofa. It’s Sunday, and it’s raining buckets. I try to focus on a comic book Liam lent me, after I admitted I didn’t really like reading. He refused to believe me. He said it was just because I hadn’t found the right book. I don’t know if this is the right one, but I definitely prefer comic books over the novels they make us read at school. They have less text, and they’re often a lot funnier.

  Yesterday, I spent the day waiting for Stephie and Liam to answer my messages. Stephie was with Frank, and Liam was at his competition, so neither one of them had time to pay attention to me. I had planned to go for a bike ride in the park, but the rain never let up, so instead I watched TV all afternoon with Virgil, my nine-year-old brother. I also had to babysit him at night because my dad went to the movies with Myriam, a teacher who works in the same department as him at Collège Ahuntsic.

  To kill time, we started playing one of our favorite games: putting together a diva costume, applying ultra-theatrical makeup, and inventing names and stories for ourselves. After that, we took photos of ourselves in stylized poses. Virgil’s character was really funny: Dolores von Tragic, the heir to a major company that sells canned tuna. The photos were so good that I created an Instagram account for the character. Virgil was thrilled because he’s a huge fan of the drag queen shows on Netflix, where people, mostly men, dress up as divas and undertake different challenges each week, like musical performances and photo sessions.

  This afternoon, I have a Skype date with Eiríkur. At least I’ll have some entertainment in my day! Eiríkur is the guy I was dating before he moved back to Iceland with his parents in June. We broke up a little after the school year began, because he found it too hard to do a long-distance relationship. We decided to stay in touch, but since then things have been a little uncomfortable between us.

  The whole family is at home, for once. My dad is settled in the living room chair, surrounded by his computer and textbooks. I think he’s putting together an exam. He really likes creating them himself. He often complains that students are usually expected to learn all the material by heart, whereas my dad prefers to encourage them to think things through for themselves. He’s quite the optimist!

  Virgil is on the computer, playing Minecraft online with João, his Brazilian best friend. He’s using a headset with a mic, so all I hear are little snippets of animated conversation, half in English and half in Brazilian Portuguese. I notice that he’s wearing an old, pale blue tutu I gave him. Just like me, my brother has pretty eclectic tastes in clothing, except that he prefers to dress up only at home. His classmates don’t suspect a thing; only João knows, because he sometimes comes over to play here.

  Lastly, there’s Borki, our dog, who’s getting fatter by the day. He’s stretched out on the sofa at my feet. I hear him snore and fart once in a while. Ewww!

  The sound of the rain against the big living room window makes me sleepy, and I fight it off until the time we agreed on, which finally arrives. I get up and touch Virgil’s shoulder. He takes off the headset.

  “What?”

  “I need the computer, I have a Skype date. I told you about it this morning, remember?”

  “Can it wait a bit? We’re almost finished our cow prison.”

  “It’s called an enclosure.”

  “No, no, it’s a prison, it’s for cow criminals. Can’t you use your phone instead? You have the Skype app on it.”

  “Cow criminals? What kind of game is that? And no, the sound is always horrible on the phone, and the camera shakes.”

  “If I give you the computer, what will you give me in return?”

  “I can trade you my Lunala in Pokémon Moon.”

  “Huh? I’m the one who
gave it to you in the first place!”

  “And it was a very bad trade! Lunala is one of the best Pokémons. You should want it back.”

  Virgil thinks about this, and then says, decisively, “Okay, on the condition we make a video with Dolores von Tragic this week.”

  “Deal.”

  He says good-bye to João and logs off his game to give me his seat. My dad looks up from his computer and asks, “Do you want me to go work in the kitchen? You’ll have more quiet.”

  I shrug. I’d prefer if he wasn’t there, but at the same time, it’s not like Eiríkur and I will be saying anything private to each other.

  Still, my dad gathers up his textbooks and shuts his laptop, then kisses me on the top of the head and moves into the kitchen.

  I send Eiríkur a message to tell him I’m ready. A second later, he replies that he is too, and we start the call. I see his chubby-cheeked face appear on the screen. He has dark circles under his eyes. He exclaims, “Hey, Ciel! How’s it going?”

  Oh, I’ve really missed his Nordic accent!

  “Not bad, not bad. You?”

  “I was really sick, but I’m feeling better. I missed school the other day.”

  “Yeah, I think you mentioned!”

  We talk about boring stuff for a few minutes, like the rain and the nice weather. There are even some moments of silence as we try to figure out what to say to each other and smile tight smiles. I’m starting to worry we won’t be able to make this friendship work.

  Suddenly, Eiríkur’s face lights up.

  “Oh, by the way, I made a friend who’s trans! Her name is Solveig. I think you’d get along well with her!”

  Why is he telling me about his new friend? Is he trying to make me jealous? I force myself to look interested regardless.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Actually, I didn’t know she was trans, I found out on TV. Her parents decided to take her elementary school to court because the teachers insisted on calling her by her old name and using male pronouns.”

  “Wow, that’s awful.”

  “Yup. But since our high school wanted to avoid trouble, the principal added into the policies that it’s forbidden to discriminate against a person for their gender identity. Pretty cool.”

  “Hmm. I’d like it if there were a rule like that at my high school.”

  I go quiet for a moment. I’d really like to talk to him about Liam, just to show him that my friendships are changing too, and that life goes on even if he’s not here anymore. I chew on the idea for a few seconds, and then drop it. I feel mean for wanting to make him jealous because I’m afraid he’ll get over me too quickly.

  When we say good-bye after talking for a good half-hour, I feel good. I’m proud that I didn’t give in to the temptation of mentioning Liam to Eiríkur. Still, I can’t help going to look through his Facebook friends, in case I might come across the profile of the trans girl he spoke about. Not to spy on her, no…. Well, okay, maybe. But just a little. After a few minutes, I give up on my search, feeling ridiculous for getting worked up about it. But I’m still thinking about the inclusion policy at Eiríkur’s high school. It would be so great if we had a rule like that at Simonne Monet-Chartrand. Maybe that could even be the topic for my next YouTube video!

  I decide to talk about it with Virgil. I push open the door to his room and find him stretched out on his belly on the floor, playing with his electrical circuit-building kit (he has unusual hobbies). Borki, who follows him everywhere, is next to him.

  As soon as I walk in, my little brother protests, “You could at least knock before coming in! I have a right to my privacy!”

  “Oh, come on. We were still sharing a room three months ago, and you never had a problem with that.”

  “It’s not the same now. I’m entering pre-puberty.”

  “Oh, excuse me! It’s just that I remember the fits you pitched because you didn’t want us to have separate bedrooms.”

  He sighs in irritation. “Well, what do you want? Are you done on the computer?”

  “Yes, but I just thought of an excellent video idea. Wanna help me?”

  Virgil thinks about it for a few seconds like he wants me to feel bad for entering his room without permission, but he ends up agreeing, as always. He adds, “Dolores von Tragic will have to make a guest appearance.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see.”

  He sits up and smooths down his tutu, which had wrinkled underneath him. I bend to scratch Borki behind the ears.

  Virgil asks, “Did your hang out go well?”

  “Of course, why wouldn’t it?”

  “Because you and Eiríkur had a fight. You’re not together anymore.”

  “We didn’t have a fight. It’s just that he lives too far away now.”

  “Oh, I see,” he answers. He doesn’t look convinced. “So, what are you going to talk about in the video?”

  “About how it’s important for schools to have a rule saying that trans people and people with different gender expressions are welcome.”

  “Okay, that’s specific. Where do you want to film it? We can’t go to the park this time.”

  “No, that’s true. Um…in the living room, maybe?”

  Virgil gets up, and so does Borki, who’s not interested in hanging out alone with the electrical circuits. The two of them come with me to my room. I grab my new camera and tripod, which we’re going to set up in the living room, facing the sofa.

  Virgil says, “I think it’ll work well this way.”

  “Hmm. I’m not sure. Look, you can see all your things.”

  “They’re not just my things, Borki’s toys are there too.”

  We turn the camera to find an angle that won’t show the huge mess in the living room, but it’s hopeless.

  “Maybe if you stand against the wall and we zoom in on your face….”

  “That would look weird. Wait….”

  I take the equipment and head to the kitchen, with Virgil and Borki on my heels. My dad has abandoned his textbooks on the table and is making dinner, a vegetable stir-fry with rice. We quickly realize that the oil sizzling in the wok is making way too much noise for us to hear anything on a video. I almost want to ask my dad to stop cooking for a minute, but I hold back—I don’t think that would be very polite. My dad glances over at us.

  “Can I help you? Do you want me in your movie?”

  Virgil cracks up. “You, Dad? That would be ridiculous!”

  “I could be the dad who does backup dancing while cooking!” He starts whistling and wiggling his hips while stirring the vegetables.

  “Thanks for offering,” I say, holding back from laughing. “It would get me lots of hits, but we need a quiet place to talk.”

  We head back to my room, and try to ignore the objects strewn all over the floor and furniture: clothes, my old tap shoes, stuffed animals, board games I haven’t played in centuries….

  “We could just cover everything with a sheet,” Virgil says, exasperated.

  I answer sarcastically. “That’s a great idea!”

  “You think so?”

  “No. But it does remind me of a video I saw on YouTube, where a guy filmed himself in front of a neon-colored curtain and then changed the background to show videos and funny pictures.”

  “Do you want to do that?”

  “Why not? It would be cool!”

  “It sounds pretty complicated. Wouldn’t it be easier to clean up your room instead?”

  “That’s also a very good idea! You take care of cleaning up, and I’ll get online and find out how to do the thing with the curtain. Does that work?”

  Sighing, Virgil starts picking my clothes up off the floor.

  ♥♥♥

  Finding information on the subject turns out to be harder than I’d expected, especially because I don’t un
derstand the technical terms. Meanwhile, Virgil has set up a welcoming corner near my lamp. He even went into his room to get our old Disney Cars soft chair, which is too small for me now but creates a comical effect when I sit in it.

  To reward him for his effort, I agree to have Dolores von Tragic appear in my video. He happily hurries to put on his costume, which includes a red dress with a train, a boa, and a large straw hat. I take care of his makeup: a generous coat of mascara, very pink blush, and lipstick that matches the dress.

  Holding my school agenda, which contains the school rules, Dolores von Tragic speaks to the camera. “Oh! You’re here! In this cruel and merciless world, it is such a joy to see you behind the screen! Yes, you recognized me. I am Dolores von Tragic, heiress of Tragic Tuna and Salmon, Incorporated, Outremont’s preferred provider of canned fish since 1855. It is my pleasure to introduce you to my confidant and stylist, Ciel!”

  My little brother hands me my agenda and settles in behind the camera.

  “Thank you, Dolores von Tragic,” I say as I sit down in the chair, which flattens under my weight. “Hello, everyone! I hope you’re doing well. My name is Ciel, and, as you know, I started high school last month. Like most schools in Canada, my high school doesn’t have a clear rule prohibiting discrimination against trans people. That makes for some unpleasant situations, like the ones I’ve spoken about in other videos, such as the lack of gender-neutral bathrooms at my school. Nothing prevents people from using the wrong pronoun or the wrong gender to talk about someone, which can create other problems. That means a teacher is allowed to call a student ‘he’ even if that really hurts her feelings. If my school adopted a rule against this sort of thing, it would send a clear message to the teachers and to all the students—”

  Just then, my dad calls out from the kitchen that dinner is ready. Virgil gets agitated, and I lose my train of thought.

  “It would send the message that…uh…that people like us exist…and that….”

  I look at Virgil, hoping to find a clue on his face about what I was talking about, but I can’t catch his eye under all the mascara. My dad opens the bedroom door. “Virgil, Ciel, dinn—oh! Pardon me!”