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When he’s fifteen, Jeremy comes out as bisexual to his best friend. He waits until they finish a level of Zombie Frat 3 and then he pauses the game and turns to Michael… and just tells him. Sure, he stutters and trips over his words and gets self-conscious, but he does it. He gets it all out, and then he feels relieved.
Until he sees the look on Michael’s face. “Seriously, dude?” Michael says, looking like he just picked up a tortilla chip to find a slug underneath. “I didn’t know you were a ‘special snowflake’ or whatever.”
He goes back to playing the game, leaving Jeremy struggling to keep up. “What do you mean?” he says, feeling something icy lodge in his chest. “It’s t-totally a thing. I like girls and I like boys.”
“Yeah, okay,” Michael says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Jere. It’s ‘t-totally’ normal to be confused,” he mocks. “You’ll probably figure it out before college.”
“Oh,” Jeremy says in a small voice, sliding down into the beanbag chair. “I guess.”
The thing is that when he realized he liked guys, Jeremy also realized that he liked one in particular. And after that choppy coming-out incident, it took him another six months to work up the courage to tell Michael.
It’s late, and they’re smoking pot, passing the joint between themselves as it dwindles down to nothing and the basement fills with smoke. “Check this out,” Michael whispers, and he blows a huge puff of smoke into Jeremy’s face.
He coughs and laughs. “Lemme try,” he says, but he just ends up choking on the next drag he attempts. Michael laughs and takes the joint away from him. “Your eyes have… stars in them,” Jeremy murmurs, looking at Michael.
Michael flutters his eyelashes and smirks. “They do, do they?”
“Yeah…” Jeremy says, and even though his anxiety screams at him to run away, he leans into Michael and the cloud of smoke surrounding him. He feels fuzzy and warm and safe, and Michael is like a giant magnet, drawing him in. Before he can think a coherent thought, Jeremy ends up with his lips pressed against Michael’s, eager and also utterly content.
Until Michael jerks away from him, looking angry. “Jeremy, what the hell?”
“I-I’m sorry,” he splutters, sitting up too straight. His arms and legs feel too heavy and his heart’s hammering. “Sorry, that was stupid. I just… it’s stupid. Sorry.”
Michael rolls his eyes and puts out the joint. “I’m not your guinea pig,” he says harshly. “You wanna fool around with someone just to figure out if you’re into guys, pick someone else,” he says. “I thought we were friends.”
“We are!” Jeremy says, trying to keep his voice from breaking. “Michael, you’re my best friend!”
“Then I think I deserve an apology,” Michael says.
“Of course you do,” Jeremy replies. “Jeez, Michael, I am so , so sorry. I… I wasn’t thinking.”
“Mmm, I think you were thinking you wanted to turn me into your weird little ‘experiment,’” Michael says, and Jeremy’s too stricken to correct him. He wasn’t trying to figure out if he likes guys. He knows he likes Michael. “Ugh, I feel gross. You’ve kissed girls with that mouth.”
“Just Jenna Rolan, once!” Jeremy stammers.
“Whatever,” Michael says. He leans back and relights the joint. “You wanna finish this with me? Just promise you’ll never do that again.”
“Okay,” Jeremy says in a small voice as he watches Michael exhale a stream of smoke.
He gets a text from Michael one night. wanna go to the midnight release of zombie frat 4? But he’s got a midterm the next day and a headache at the moment, so even though Michael’s his favorite person he has to turn him down. He’s always running off to do every other thing under the sun Michael asks him to do, he can turn down just one. He tells him that, and then waits.
Michael texts him. are u seriously bailing on me??? u know i have social anxxiety
i’m sorry!!! Jeremy texts him back. maybe next time.
He waits. Michael texts back. maybe next time i’ll ask some1 else
One day at school, in typical fashion, Rich Goranski shoves Jeremy into a locker.
“Oh look, it’s Jeremy Queer,” he jeers, getting a few kids around him to snicker. Jeremy just ducks his head and tries to ignore Rich, tries to get out of the interaction, tries to survive. “Hey, man, a little birdie told me you were bi-sex-ual ,” he says, stretching out the word to make it sound risque. “So not only do you go home and jerk off to all the girls at school, you get off to all the guys, too! That’s so pathetic.” He laughs and shoves Jeremy again before disappearing down the hall, leaving Jeremy trying to get a handle on his nerves.
How did Rich know? Jeremy only ever told one person, and he would never… Jeremy glances across the hall.
Standing near the corner of the lockers is Michael, laughing quietly into his hand.
When junior year starts, Jeremy tries to start it off confident. He really tries.
“I have a good feeling about this year,” he tells Michael as they stride through the cafeteria. “This is gonna be our year.”
“Pfft, maybe,” Michael says, slurping his slushie. “You really gotta stop getting so hung up on crap that doesn’t matter, Jere.”
“I’m serious,” Jeremy says. “We’re finally upperclassmen. We’ve established a rapport at this school. We’re not gonna be losers anymore, I know it!”
“One of us, at least,” Michael mutters with a smirk. “You know, Jeremy, one of the reasons so many people dislike you is that you wear those stupid-ass shoes.”
Jeremy looks down at his New Balances. “What’s wrong with these?”
“Just not cool,” Michael shrugs. “If you wore Converse, maybe people would actually care what you have to say.”
“Oh,” Jeremy says, feeling small.
The week after that he goes to the mall and buys a new pair of Converse.
When Jeremy decides to sign up for the school play just to impress Christine, Michael teases him endlessly. “Yeah, because that’s what all the ladies love,” he says. “A guy in tights.”
“I’m not gonna wear tights,” Jeremy says.
“Oh, right, gotta protect your fragile masculinity,” Michael jokes. “When you’re done playing around with Chrissie, call me. We can get stoned in my basement.”
“I don’t really feel like smoking weed,” Jeremy says.
Michael just laughs. “Stop being such a loser, Jeremy.”
Jeremy gets the Squip, and Christine’s only part of it. He wants to be cool so Rich will stop picking on him, so he’ll fit in with Jake and Chloe and Brooke. And he wants to be cool so Michael will look at him the way he looks at Michael.
When the Squip shows up and tells him he’s terrible, tells him he’s pathetic and a slob, Jeremy believes it. And when the Squip says Michael ditched him at the mall, Jeremy believes it. Why shouldn’t he?
At Jake’s Halloween party, Chloe gets him to drink and suddenly everything in Jeremy’s life gets more complicated and less complicated at the same time. The Squip phases in and out of focus, spouting Japanese and gibberish and generally making no sense.
Jeremy winds up in a bathroom with…
“Michael!”
“Sup,” Michael says, flashing him a peace sign. “You’re speechless. Squip got your tongue?”
“It’s... off,” Jeremy says.
“That would explain why you’re talking to me,” Michael says, looking annoyed and annoyingly morally superior. “I’ve been thinking about this moment. What I would say to you? I had this really pissed off monologue, an epic journey through twelve years of friendship…”
“Why do you care?” Jeremy says, feeling as if his world has inverted for just a moment. “You’ve always acted like you were too cool for me. I was just trying to level the playing field.”
“What?” Michael says, actually sounding perplexed.
And Jeremy suddenly feels… cold. Confused. Like he turned over a stone expecting to find gross mud and worms and instead found… just Michael. Kind, warm, Michael. Why was he so angry again?
“Just… forget it, I came here to tell you something,” Michael says, standing up in the bathtub. “I’m really worried about this Squip thing. We’re talking an insanely powerful super-computer. You really think its primary function is to get you laid? Who made them? How did they end up in a high school? In New Jersey? Of all possible applications for such a mind-blowingly advanced technology, you ever wonder what it’s doing inside YOU?”
And then it all clicks for Jeremy.
“This is… this is so you ,” he says, venom biting in his words. “In seventh grade it was my gel pens, and then in freshman year it was my Xbox and now it’s my Squip,” Jeremy says, fed up. The Squip doesn’t even need to be there. He finally feels confident enough to tell Michael off. “You always want my stuff. And you always try to make me feel like I don’t deserve it.”
Michael shakes his head, looking flabbergasted. “Jeremy, I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”
There’s a glimmer of truth there, something hidden under layers and layers of gritty mucky memories and pain. But Jeremy’s buzzed and angry and he feels horribly isolated without his Squip on. “Just… stop being such a loser, Michael.”
At the play, when Jeremy realizes the only way to ditch the Squip is Mountain Dew Red, he knows he needs Michael, no matter how hurt he feels. He tries calling him, but the Squip won’t let him use his phone. And then--
“Michael makes an entrance!” Michael runs in with a bottle of Mountain Dew Red and a huge grin. Jeremy’s so relieved he forgets about being angry. Michael finally came through for him, once in his life. But when Jeremy asks for the bottle of soda, Michael hesitates. “Wait, no,” he says, and Jeremy feels a chasm open between them.
“But I need it,” he says, feeling the Squip digging its claws into his brain.
“And I think I deserve an apology,” Michael says, and suddenly Jeremy’s back in Michael’s basement, a dumbass scared fifteen-year-old with a crush he wears on his sleeve. And Michael is mocking him, repulsed by him, proving once again that he’s better and smarter and superior in every way, just like he always does. “I think that’s in order, Jeremy.”
Jeremy opens his mouth, just to do it, just to give Michael what he wants like he always does, but the Squip cuts off his vocal cords.
Don’t give in , the Squip says. Whatever else I did, at least I made you realize that Michael Mell is toxic. Don’t give him what he wants.
And the Squip takes over his motor functions and makes him fight Michael physically.
Jeremy can’t say he’s a hundred percent upset.
“This is so you!” Jeremy yells as they roll around backstage. “You love to feel superior! You have always resented me for not being at your beck and call every second of the day!”
“What are you talking about?” Michael shouts, trying to block Jeremy’s blows. “Usually you are there for me, up until the Squip!”
“You have never been okay with me being myself,” Jeremy says, letting all his fears and insecurities spill out. “That’s why you freaked out when I told you I was bi.”
“ What ?” Michael says, too shocked to even move. Jeremy swings his fist and connects with Michael’s jaw, not hard enough to break anything but hard enough to hurt. “Ow! Jeremy, what the hell are you talking about? You never told me you were bi! And even if you did, why would I have freaked out?”
Jeremy tries to stop, but his hands move without his control.
Michael is lying to you , the Squip says. Just like he always does. He manipulates you, and now he’s gaslighting you.
“Don’t act like that never happened,” he says, hurt and angry. “I came out to you, just like you did when you said you were gay, except instead of being supportive you made me feel like… like a poser! Like I was just faking everything for attention.”
Michael finally manages to roll them so he’s got a grip on Jeremy, and he holds him down. “Jesus, Jeremy, what did that thing do to your head?” he asks, and he doesn’t sound resentful or pissed off. He just sounds concerned. “Jake! If I hold Jeremy down, can you force him to drink this Mountain Dew Red?”
When Jeremy wakes up, the first thing he’s aware of is Rich talking to him. “Feels like you’re missing a part of yourself, right?” he says. “And it hurts like a motherfucker, too.” Turns out he’s got a thick lisp. And he doesn’t sound as… mean.
“What?” Jeremy mumbles, trying to get his bearings. “What happened?”
“After you gave Christine the MTD, she screamed and everyone’s Squips deactivated,” Rich says matter-of-factly. “Lucky thing, too. Some shit was going down.”
Before Jeremy can say another word, Michael walks into the room. And all of Jeremy’s knotted up feelings of guilt and betrayal clump up in his throat. “Hey,” Michael says, face pinched and worried. “Um, Jeremy. Listen, I talked to Rich about some of the, uh, the Squip stuff. And I want you to know… if you’re angry with me or afraid of me or anything, and if… if you don’t want to talk to me again, ever, I… fine. I’ll respect that. But please just give me five minutes.”
Jeremy stares at him. The Squip may be gone, but he had someone else whispering in his ear how pathetic, how terrible, how ugly he was long before he swallowed that pill. “Five minutes,” he says.
Michael looks like he tries not to wince at that, and he fails. “Okay,” he says, sitting down at the edge of Jeremy’s hospital bed. “Okay.” He knows Rich can hear him through the curtain dividing the two beds, but he doesn’t really care. He needs Jeremy to hear. “So the Squip… it can delete your memories. And corrupt existing memories, and… and create entirely new ones. You following me?”
Jeremy nods. “But I would know if I had a fake memory implanted in me,” he insists. “And besides, the Squip’s gone now, but I still… I still have bad memories, Michael.”
“I know,” Michael says, running a comforting hand over Jeremy’s shoulder without thinking about it. “I know. But some of the stuff you said at the play, it made me think… Jeremy, you said you came out to me as bi? But that never happened.”
Jeremy shakes his head like there’s water in his ears. “No, I remember it,” he insists. “We were in your basement, and I told you, and you called me a special snowflake and said I was confused.”
Michael stares at him, astonished. “Jere, you’ve known me for… forever,” he says, looking appalled. “You have to know I would never say something like that.”
Jeremy’s ears are ringing and he doesn’t know, he just doesn’t know. “But it wasn’t just that,” he says, trying to cling to his memories, his pain, his convictions. “You told Rich! It was a big secret and you told him I liked guys!”
Michael shakes his head, trying to keep up. “First of all, how could I have outed you to anyone when I didn’t even know?” he says. “And second of all, I would never do that.”
“But…” Jeremy says, sifting through his own memories. “It happened! I remember it!”
“If I can butt in,” Rich pipes up from his cot. “I didn’t know until I started eavesdropping right this second that Jeremy wasn’t straight. Oh and if anyone’s interested, I am also bi. And single. Hint hint, headphones.”
“Who do we bribe to get the nurses to up his morphine?” Michael mumbles, and then he looks back at Jeremy. “Jeremy, I swear to you. The Squip made you think all these things happened… but they didn’t. Do you want to hear it all from my point of view?”
He’s gentle, he actually means it. Slowly, Jeremy nods.
“We’ve been best friends for 12 years,” Michael says. “Everything was… better than perfect. Until you got the Squip. You started ignoring me, leaving me behind… I went to Jake Dillinger’s Halloween party to warn you about the Squip and what it can do, but you wouldn’t listen to me. And you…”
He’s interrupted by Jeremy’s sharp intake of breath. “Fuck,” he breathes. “I called you a loser. Michael, I’m so sorry! I was confused… I’m still confused.”
“It’s…” Michael starts to say it’s okay, but that’s not true. Whether he knows it or not, Jeremy hurt him. It’s not just “okay” all of a sudden. “I forgive you,” Michael says, because that’s the truth. “You need your rest, Jere. You’re still recovering.”
“I think you’re right,” Jeremy says, his eyelids already beginning to droop. “But, hey, don’t… don’t stay away, alright? I don’t know what’s going on, but…” It feels awkward having to say it when it should be obvious, second nature. “I want you in my life, Michael.”
“Of course,” Michael says, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m sticking around.”
Jeremy recovers and recuperates. It’s… hard. The first hump he struggles getting over is dealing with making his own decisions again. He got so used to being told what to do and when to do it that simple tasks like getting dressed and sending texts suddenly feel like minefields he needs to cross.
He needs Michael now more than ever, and a sick little part of him feels horrified at that fact, at relying so heavily on someone who can hurt him so much. “Michael wouldn’t hurt me,” Jeremy says to himself, screwing his eyes shut. “Michael never hurt me.”
Are you sure about that?
Sometimes the Squip still rears its ugly head, invading his mind with snide comments and insecurities on full blast. Sometimes a gulp of Red is enough to make it stop, but sometimes it’s not.
Michael’s always there when Jeremy needs him, even in the middle of the night, and that’s something that feels surprising but also completely natural. The artificial Michael, the one the Squip fabricated using Jeremy’s anxiety and memories, he didn’t stick up for Jeremy or go to him when Jeremy needed help.
This one does.
“Got everything you could possibly need,” Michael says one night, coming inside and shaking raindrops from his hair. He pulls a bottle of Mountain Dew Red out of his bag. “First, you know, obvious. I also brought Starbursts, just the pinks, and Avatar: The Last Airbender on DVD.”
“And you,” Jeremy comments, hugging Michael because he needs to. “You brought you.”
They eat Starbursts and sit close together on Jeremy’s couch and watch old cartoons, and Michael helps Jeremy stitch together their history. “You ditched me at the eighth grade dance,” Jeremy says, a question in his voice.
“Not real,” Michael says, thinking of The Hunger Games . “We didn’t go to the eighth grade dance. We skipped it to go to Free Comic Book Day.”
“Oh,” Jeremy says. “I… see, that’s in my head, but it’s foggy… feels like a dream.”
“That fucking computer corrupted your memories,” Michael says in a low voice. “I swear to God, Jeremy, I’ll hunt these people down. I’ll go all the way to Japan, I’ll do it.”
“Shh,” Jeremy says, leaning into his side. “I just… I need you here.” He gulps. “Did you really tell me no one would like me unless I bought some Converse?”
Michael looks like he’s trying not to laugh, but he stops when he sees Jeremy’s expression. “No,” he says seriously. “That’s a really shitty thing to say. Not real.”
Jeremy nods. “Fifth grade,” he says. “You got everyone to call me ‘Germy’ for a week.”
Michael looks guilty. “Okay, that was really me.”
“Jerk,” Jeremy says, but he’s smiling as he pokes at Michael’s side. They lapse into silence, watching Avatar, thinking about everything and nothing. “Okay,” Jeremy says, courage bubbling up in his chest, “so… I’m just gonna tell you what I think happened, and then you can tell me the real version, okay?”
Michael studies his face. “Okay,” he says finally.
“In sophomore year, I tried to kiss you while we were smoking weed in your basement,” Jeremy says. “And you got really mad and said I was using you like an experiment, and that I… that I made you feel gross.”
Michael stares at him, pain and affection and anger swirling around in his head, in his stomach. “Jeremy,” he says slowly, “I can’t tell you how much I wish you had tried to kiss me in sophomore year. But that never happened. Also, the Squip’s version of me is super biphobic and I’m highkey offended.”
“I’m sorry,” Jeremy says.
“You don’t have to be sorry for that… that thing , messing with your head,” Michael says, looking as if he’s making his mind up about something. He leans closer to Jeremy. “You’ve never made me feel gross.” Closer. “You and I never kissed before.” He hovers just in front of Jeremy’s face, waiting for him to move away. He doesn’t. “That wasn’t real, Jeremy.” He closes his eyes. “This is.”
Michael kisses him, familiar and new at the same time, and as Jeremy responds, parting his lips and leaning into his best friend, he knows he’s never felt this before. That terrible night in the basement, surrounded by smoke and regret, starts to feel like a foggy dream, because this right now feels so right and so real.
Michael pulls away, studying his face. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Jeremy says breathily. “Just… gah, it’s so confusing. I trust you, I lo… I like you a lot, and not just as a friend. And that feels real, but the stuff the Squip made me think happened, that felt real too. And I feel bad asking you over and over again if something was real or not.”
Michael’s forehead creases in sympathy, and then smoothes back out. He has an idea. “Wait right here,” he says, and runs upstairs. Jeremy fidgets with the edge of his sleeve until Michael barrels back into the room, waving around a nice leather-bound notebook. “Your diary! I swear I’ve never opened it, I just know where you keep it.”
Jeremy stares as Michael sits back down next to him and hands him the diary. He looks down at the book in his hands, and it feels foreign. “I’ve never seen this before.”
He expects Michael to look disappointed, but he just nods. “The Squip wouldn’t have wanted you to be able to contradict it. Probably erased it from your memories.”
Jeremy flips open the journal. The first entry is dated December 2009 and talks about his mom. He flips through the pages and the years, soaking in everything the Squip tried to hide from him. Michael’s kindness, Michael’s dedication, Michael’s… everything.
The Squip made him an enemy, but Jeremy knows as he looks at Michael, at his diary, that all of that was fake. Michael infiltrating a Halloween rager just to warn him about the Squip, that was real. Michael showing up at the play to see Jeremy and to help him, that was real.
With shaking hands, Jeremy flips to a blank page in the journal and grabs a pen from the coffee table. “Dear Diary,” he says aloud as he writes, smiling at Michael. “Today Michael kissed me, for real, for the first time. And it was really, really great and I hope he does it again.” With a mischievous grin, Michael leans forward and obliges. “And again?” Michael kisses him a third time. It feels amazing. It feels real.
It’s all made-up , the Squip’s voice, faint but clinging, reverberates in his head. He’s making it all up to trick you.
“Wait,” Jeremy says, moving away from Michael and setting his journal down at the coffee table. He grabs the bottle of Mountain Dew Red and takes a big gulp, swallows, waits. “Okay. I’m good. Kiss me again.”