Will Grayson, Will Grayson(30)
Author: John Green

SING & DANCE & CELEBRATE TOLERANCE IN THE MOST IMPORTANT MUSICAL OF OUR TIME.

I jog through the halls and then go upstairs to Jane’s locker and carefully slip the note I wrote last night through the vent:

To: The Locker Houdini

From: Will Grayson

Re: An Expert in the Field of Good Boyfriends?

Dear Jane,

Just so you know: e. e. cummings cheated on both of his wives. With prostitutes.

Yours,

Will Grayson

Chapter ten

tiny cooper.

tiny cooper.

tiny cooper.

I am saying his name over and over in my head.

tiny cooper.

tiny cooper.

It’s a ridiculous name, and the whole thing is ridiculous, and i couldn’t stop it if i tried.

tiny cooper.

If i say it enough times, maybe it will be okay that isaac doesn’t exist.

It starts that night. in front of frenchy’s. i am still in shock. i can’t tell whether it’s post-traumatic stress or post-stress trauma. whatever it is, a good part of my life has just been erased, and i have no desire to fill in the new blank. leave it empty, i say. just let me die.

tiny, though, won’t let me. he’s playing the i’ve-had-it-worse game, which never works, because either the person says something that’s not worse at all (‘he wasn’t a natural blond’) or they say something that’s so much worse that you feel like all your feelings are being completely negated. (‘well, i once had a guy stand me up for a date . . . and it ended up that he’d been eaten by a lion! his last word was my name!’)

still, he’s trying to help. and i guess i should take some when i need some.

for his part, o.w.g. is also trying to help. there’s a girl hovering in the background, and i have no doubt it’s the (in)famous jane. at first, o.w.g.’s attempt at help is even lamer than tiny’s.

o.w.g.: i know it sucks, but in a way, it’s good.

this is about as inspirational as a movie of hitler making out with his girlfriend and having a good time. it runs afoul of what i call the birdshit rule. you know, how people say it’s good luck if a bird shits on you? and people believe it! i just want to grab them and say, ‘dude, don’t you realize this whole superstition was made up because no one could think of anything else good to say to a person who’d just been shit upon?’ and people do that all the time – and not with something as temporary as birdshit, either. you lost your job? great opportunity! failed at life? there’s only one way to go – up! dumped by a boyfriend who never existed? i know it sucks, but in a way, it’s good!

I’m about to strip o.w.g. of his right to be a will grayson, but then he goes on.

o.w.g.: love and truth being tied together, i mean. they make each other possible, you know?

I don’t know what hits me more – the fact that some stranger would listen to me, or the fact that he is, technically, absolutely correct.

the other will grayson heads off, leaving me with my new refrigerator-size companion, who’s looking at me with such sincerity that i want to slap him.

me: you don’t have to stay. really.

tiny: what, and leave you here to mope?

me: this is so far beyond moping. this is out-and-out despair.

tiny: awwww.

and then he hugs me. imagine being hugged by a sofa. that’s what it feels like.

me (choking): i’m choking.

tiny (patting my hair): there, there.

me: dude, you’re not helping.

I push him away. he looks hurt.

tiny: you just duded me!

me: i’m sorry. it’s just, i –

tiny: i’m only trying to help!

this is why i should carry around extra pills. i think we could both use a double dose right now.

me (again): i’m sorry.

he looks at me then. and it’s weird, because i mean, he’s really looking at me. it makes me completely uncomfortable.

me: what?

tiny: do you want to hear a song from tiny dancer: the tiny cooper story?

me: excuse me?

tiny: it’s a musical i’m working on. it’s based on my life. i think one of the songs might help right now.

we are on a street corner in front of a  p**n  shop. there are people passing by. chicagoans – you can’t be less musical than chicagoans. i am in a completely demolished state. my mind is having a heart attack. the last thing i need is for the fat lady to sing. but do i protest? do i decide to live the rest of my life within the subway system, feeding off the rats? no. i just nod dumbly, because he wants to sing this song so badly that i’d feel like a jerk to say no.

with a dip of his head, tiny starts to hum a little to himself. once he’s gotten the tune, he closes his eyes, opens his arms, and sings:

I thought you’ d make my dreams come true

but it wasn’t you, it wasn’t you

I thought this time it would all be new

but it wasn’t you, it wasn’t you

I pictured all the things we’ d do

but it wasn’t you, it wasn’t you

and now i feel my heart is through

but it isn’t true, it isn’t true

I may be big-boned and afraid

but my faith in love won’t be mislaid!

though i’ve been completely knocked off course

I’m not getting off my faithful horse!

It wasn’t you, it’s true

but there’s more to life than you

I thought you were a boy with a view,

you stuck-up, selfish, addled shrew

you may have kicked me till i was blue

but from that experience i grew

It’s true, f**k you

there are better guys to woo

It won’t be you, comprende vous?

It will never be you.

tiny doesn’t just sing these words – he belts them. it’s like a parade coming out of his mouth. i have no doubt the words travel over lake michigan to most of canada and on to the north pole. the farmers of saskatchewan are crying. santa is turning to mrs. claus and saying ‘what the f**k is that?’ i am completely mortified, but then tiny opens his eyes and looks at me with such obvious caring that i have no idea what to do. no one’s tried to give me something like this in ages. except for isaac, and he doesn’t exist. whatever you might say about tiny, he definitely exists.

he asks me if i want to walk. once again, i nod dumbly. it’s not like i have anything better to do.

me: who are you?

tiny: tiny cooper!

me: you can’t really be named tiny.

tiny: no. that’s irony.

me: oh.

tiny (tsking): no need to ‘oh’ me. i’m fine with it. i’m big-boned.

me: dude, it isn’t just your bones.