In sixth period Chorus, via handwritten notes, we the F&N unit agree to cancel today’s Invert Society meeting. As soon as the bell rings for Activity Period, we hightail it not to the library but to the computer lab.
Through the glass door of his office, we see Jimmy Frye the IT guy hunched at his desk, eating some kind of big drippy sandwich. We knock furiously.
F&N, shouting in unison: “What happened with Wanda?”
From the other side of the glass door comes Jimmy’s muffled voice. “Beat it.”
We the F&N unit turn the doorknob and burst SWAT-style into the IT office. Jimmy bellows in protest, but he can’t rise to stop us: he has a Blimpie sandwich wrapper spread open on his lap, the paper damp and precarious with crumbs and scraps.
F&N, in unison, again: “What happened with Wanda?”
“I’m not kidding,” says Jimmy. “The Jimmy shop is closed for business.”
We dive-bomb his desk, seizing his computer mouse.
F: “How do we access the email system?”
N: “Hey, what’s this file? Asian-porn-dot-AVI? I’m gonna open it.”
“Nice try.” Jimmy reaches for a napkin to wipe off his hands and reclaim his computer. “That’s not a real file I have.”
N, hitting command-shift-N to create a new folder: “It is now.”
“Oh, grow up,” says Jimmy. “Step away from the desk and I’ll tell you the truth.”
We the F&N unit step away from the desk and regard him expectantly. Jimmy crumples up his sandwich paper and drops it in a nearby trash can. He rises, brushing crumbs off his lap, and goes to the door—to close it, we the F&N unit assume, so as to soundproof the room.
“The truth is,” Jimmy says, “you blew it. I’m not in the mood today, or ever again.” He points out the door, into the empty computer lab, and fixes us with a stern glare. “Scram.”
So it’s one of those days. We the F&N unit switch tacks.
N: “Sorry, Jimmy. We just got excited.”
F: “Can we take you out to Joe Junior?”
“That’s not gonna work this time,” says Jimmy. “Get the hell out of my office, or I’m calling Trudy.”
With astonishment, we realize he’s serious.
F: “Wait, time-out.”
N: “Are you really mad at us?”
“You’re damn right I’m mad at you,” says Jimmy. “I put my ass on the line to get you all that dirt on Theo Severyn, and how did you repay me? You ditched me at Joe Junior with no goodbye. Did you even thank me?”
F: “Didn’t we?”
N: “I meant to.”
“You haven’t even swung by to say hi since then,” says Jimmy. “You know, I’ve always considered us friends. But friends don’t treat each other the way you’ve treated me.”
We the F&N unit have no idea what to say, so we say nothing at all. He waves us out and shuts the glass door in our faces.
We the F&N unit look at each other, flummoxed.
N: “Well, we can still go to Joe Junior.”
F: “Yeah, I need a milkshake after that.”
But we make it down only one flight of stairs. On the third-floor landing, the library door swings open, and out walk Theo Severyn and Christopher Korkian. They’re negative images of each other: Theo in his charcoal peacoat and camel-colored scarf, Christopher in a camel-colored trench coat and black scarf.
“There they are,” says Theo, seeing us.
“Where have you been?” says Christopher. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Still disoriented from our Jimmy Frye encounter, we the F&N unit blink.
“What?” says Theo. “I thought you were looking for new members.”
“There are confusing fliers about it all over school,” says Christopher. “Like that one.” He points to the bulletin board on the wall behind us.
We turn to look. Our flier is faded now, the bottom half obscured by a more recent flier tacked over it to advertise the Lower School gift wrap fundraiser. But the top half is still visible, the words still legible, just barely, in rainbow ink and loopy Party LET lettering.
Calling All Inverts, Perverts, and Omi-Palone:
Fay Vasquez-Rabinowitz and Nell Rif kin cordially invite you to join
THE INVERT SOCIETY
“Did you change the location?” Christopher asks.
“Or maybe,” says Theo—is that a flash of mischief in his face?—“you don’t actually want new members?”
We the F&N unit bristle.
F: “Why would you think that?”
N: “It’s a real club.”
F: “We’re just highly selective.”
N: “Yeah, there’s an extensive application process.”
“Well,” says Theo, “we want to apply.”
We the F&N unit exchange a panicked glance. We have never prepared for this scenario. We have no introductory speech, no secret handshake, no initiation rite. We don’t even have an excuse, off the top of our shared head, to turn away prospective new members.
What can we do? We lead Theo and Christopher into the library. For authoritative height, F climbs and sits on the bookshelf stepladder. N settles into a heavy wooden chair. Theo and Christopher take chairs as well, placing their backpacks on a nearby table.
F: “I call this meeting of the Invert Society to order.”
N: “Roll call! President Fay?”
F: “Present.”
N: “President Nell? Present. Okay, that concludes the roll call.”
“What the hell?” says Theo. “We’re right here.”
F: “We’ll get to that.”
N: “It’s on the gay agenda.”
“Oh my god,” says Theo. “I don’t even care about your bitch-ass gay club. I just wanted to ask you why Wanda got fired.”
We didn’t see that coming. Juniper Green is a notorious gossip, but she must have spread this story all over school in under three hours, which has to be a new record.
“Yeah, we’ve heard,” says Theo. He hops onto the table, pushing our backpacks out of his way, and perches on the edge of it. “Tell us what you know.”
“Is it true,” says Christopher, “that Skip and Trudy thought Othello was racist? Even though race didn’t exist yet when Shakespeare wrote it?”
It appears that the story has mutated somewhat in the telling.
N: “Christopher, this is obviously about the prologue.”
F: “It’s just that no one went to the play, so no one knows there was a prologue.”
“Hey, screw you,” says Theo. “Lots of girls came to see me on Friday night because I’m so hot and sexual.” Theo shimmies stripper-like out of his charcoal peacoat and tosses it to Christopher, who catches it in his lap. Unencumbered by his coat, Theo pretzels himself cross-legged on the table and sits like a guru. “The joke was on them, though,” he adds, “since I was playing a gay dude.”
F: “Maybe that was part of the appeal.”
N: “I hear some girls are into that.”
“I don’t get it,” Christopher says. Worriedly, he rubs the wool of Theo’s coat between his fingers. “Iago is gay?”
“Fay talked about this on the first day of rehearsal,” says Theo. “Remember?”
“I wasn’t listening,” says Christopher.
Theo gestures to us. “Take it away, Presidents,” he says. “Why is Iago gay?”
Well, shit. We the F&N unit really need to get it right this time.
“Is it just because of the whole sharing-a-bed-with-Cassio thing?” Christopher asks. “Because Wanda told me it was normal for two men to share a bed back then.”
N: [amused] “You asked Wanda about that?”
F: “First of all, they don’t just share a bed. Iago specifically says he lay with Cassio, and if you look at contemporary Elizabethan writing—”
N: [heading her off at the pass] “But, anyway, it’s not just about that.”
F: “Right, right. Iago is gay on a deeper level than just sharing a bed with Cassio.”
Christopher frowns, trying to understand. “Is he in love with Othello?” he asks. “Is that why he wants to ruin Othello’s marriage?”
N: “That’s part of it.”
F: “But think even deeper.”
“Aw, yeah,” says Theo. “All the way deeper.” He lifts himself slightly off the table and thrusts his pelvis, air-humping an invisible butt, which buys us some time to gather our own thoughts on gayness.
F: “It’s like … for Iago, everything is a dollhouse. He’s like a fancy little boy with his own fancy dollhouse full of dolls.”
N: “Except the dolls are real people.”
F: “But they’re not real to him. Nothing is real. Everything is just a game.”
N: “But it’s a serious game. He’s a little gay boy who takes his doll-house very seriously.”
F: “Have you read The Talented Mr. Ripley?”
“I’ve seen the movie,” says Christopher.
F: “The book is better. What about Rope? Strangers on a Train? And Psycho too. Nell, write down a gay syllabus for Theo and Christopher.”
N: [already scribbling in her notebook] “Way ahead of you, boss.”
Theo leans forward, interested. “So you think evil characters are gay?”
F: [really getting into it now] “Well, good and evil are heterosexual concepts.”
N: “It’s more about being, like, chaotic.”
F: “Trickster gods.”
“Like Puck,” Theo suggests. “In A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
F: “Right! Or Satan in Paradise Lost.”
N: “Or David Bowie in Labyrinth.”
F: “Or the French poet Rimbaud. Nell, add him to the list.”
“What about that one guy?” says Christopher eagerly. “The guy from the seventies.”
N: “What guy?”
“The guy who walked on a tightrope between the …” Christopher glances guiltily at Theo. “The towers.”
“Or what about the D.C. sniper?” says Theo.
This pulls us up short. We the F&N unit have never considered this.
“Didn’t they just arrest him?” says Christopher.
“Shut up,” says Theo. “Okay, wait, better example: the Columbine shooters.”
We the F&N unit can hardly believe our luck. The two of us have had this very discussion before. We never imagined anyone else joining in.
F: “Yes! We’re always saying that!”
N: “They were so gay for each other.”
F: “Read about Leopold and Loeb, and you’ll understand. Nell, add—”
N: “Compulsion and Swoon. Got it.”
“Don’t bother,” says Theo. “I already know all about Leopold and Loeb. They killed a kid. They were smart. They got away with it.” He smiles. “I like them.”
The bell rings.
Theo hops off the table. He snaps his fingers. “Christopher, my coat.”
Christopher stands and holds open Theo’s coat behind him, like he’s his butler.
Theo laughs. “Holy shit,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” He slips his arms gracefully into the sleeves. “Oh, I like this. I’m into this. Can you do it for me at home?”
Christopher’s face is bright red. “I’m not gonna dress you in the morning.”
Theo sighs dramatically. “Then what’s the point of sharing a room?”
Christopher speed-walks out of the library. We the F&N unit watch, dumbstruck, as Theo chases after him.