She of the Mountains by Vivek Shraya Page B

GAY, you’re gay! you’re gay, you’re gay! YOU’re gay, you’re gay, you’re gay, you’re GAY, you’re gay, you’re gay, you’re GAY, you’re gay! you’re gay, you’re gay! YOU’re gay, you’re gay, you’re gay, you’re GAY, you’re gay, you’re gay, you’re GAY, you’re gay! you’re gay, you’re gay! YOU’re gay, you’re gay, you’re gay, you’re GAY, you’re gay, you’re gay, you’re GAY, you’re gay! you’re gay, you’re gay! YOU’re gay, you’re gay, you’re gay, you’re GAY, you’re gay, you’re gay, you’re GAY, you’re gay! you’re gay, you’re gay! YOU’re gay, you’re gay, you’re gay, you’re GAY, you’re gay, you’re gay, you’re GAY, you’re gay!
    You’re gay became a virus that spread beyond gym class, past the mouths of boys who seemed to be jealous of his friendships with the prettiest girls in the school. The replication forced him to wonder what it was about the particular sounds that constructed such a small word— GG-AE-EY —that was so contagious.
    One afternoon, he strode swiftly to the back of the library where the giant school dictionary rested. His eyes looked straight ahead so that nothing in his periphery could distract him and take him off-course. Of all the places on the school grounds—the mezzanine, the west entrance, the washrooms, and the parking lot—the library was one of the least popular. It was a forgotten ground where old stories and old library staff waited to die, but he often found himself there because books (and the characters within) were some of his closest friends. Here, words existed only on pages, and he was grateful for that silence. He also appreciated the Dewey Decimal System, comforted that every topic had its place and number and every book belonged somewhere. When he reached the dictionary, it was already open and words commencing with THR - stared back him. He flipped through chunks of pages at a time, slowing down as he reached G. He momentarily paused at game and garage and gavel before finally arriving at gay . He scanned the small type quickly and shut the book.
    He was surprised that the definition of gay included the words merry and cheerful because the word was always uttered like a grunt or a burp or a fart even, the kind of sound your body makes when it’s trying to clear something out. As he walked away from the dictionary and toward the exit, he wondered ifhe seemed particularly merry or cheerful, and if so, why were these unlikeable traits?
    He instantly thought about his family’s most recent drive to Lahore Sweets & Restaurant.
    Stop laughing! his dad had yelled, turning his gaze away from the road ahead and directly onto his eldest son in the back seat. Hoping to divert some of his dad’s anger, he looked at his younger brother Shanth, who had told the joke about their Sunday school teacher at which they were both giggling.
    Why? With all the suffering in the world, it’s good that we have a son who laughs so much, his mom pushed back.
    Ever since his voice changed, his laugh … I can’t listen to it.
    Don’t listen to your dad! Don’t stop laughing, son, his mom had said, turning around to look at him with the stern but caring expression that was generally reserved for the morning before a class presentation, the subtext: You can do anything!
    As he left the library, he passed Ms Sinclair, the librarian. He had always admired her upright posture, despite her heavy mane of grey hair, and secretly thought of her as a witch—the good kind—because of her ability to know exactly which book he needed to complete, whatever assignment he was working on, or to satisfy his latest curiosity.
    Did you find what you were looking for? she asked, predictably.
    He didn’t smile or respond politely as he