The Truth About Love

chapter fifteen

There are a number of concerning things that we failed to take into account before deciding to come in as Hiro Hamada and Bay Max for the Halloween fundraiser this year. Among these concerns include the extent to which Mason's inflatable Bay Max costume would, ironically, inflate and more worryingly, the scary degree to which I would pass for a fourteen-year-old Japanese boy.

I suppose we didn't completely neglect the first issue given we decided it would be best to inflate Mason's costume once we got to the car park. What we failed to realise, however, was that his costume would be so big that he wouldn't even be able to get through the double doors leading into the sixth form building.

With a heavy heart, I take out the plastic plug from the side of Mason's costume and watch him slowly deflate like a plump grape turning into a shrivelled up raisin. Mason slumps his shoulders and I give him a pitiful smile. "We didn't think this one through did we?" I laugh.

"Yeah, we've fucked it this year." He chuckles, stepping out of the costume. He's wearing a plain white tee and white shorts underneath so I guess he could still pass for Bay Max at a stretch.

"It's fine, I'll just re-inflate it at lunch. The doors in the main school are all a lot wider." He shakes his head determinedly and folds the costume up. Swinging it over his wrist, he walks through the door.

"That's some commitment, maybe you'll still have a shot at winning then," I say following behind him.

"Hell yeah. Shame we can't win as a duo again this year, stupid PR rules." He scratches a coin against the surface of the vending machine after it having been rejected the first time.

"Makes sense as I'm on the decision making panel for choosing the best costumes." I shrug watching in amusement as he refuses to accept defeat against the machine. "Are you that desperate for a Twix this early in the morning?"

He waves me off and makes some unrelated excuse about him being an athlete. I leave him to battle his feud and head towards the Richardson room for the PR meeting.

Not surprisingly, Rani is dabbing her face with powder dressed in a yellow clueless inspired plaid blazer and skirt. Even less surprisingly, her eyebrows shoot up when she sees me and her lips slowly shape themselves into a smirk.

"A little Asian boy? How is that even a costume?" She laughs, closing her mirror and putting it back into her Dior handbag.

"I'm Hiro Hamada from Big Hero 6 and he's Japanese, I'll have you know." I narrow my eyes at her then relax them. Softening my expression and feigning sympathy, I say, "though I suppose you wouldn't know because you probably weren't allowed to watch TV as a kid."

"Yeah I was. I've totally seen that film," she responds not so convincingly. She takes a short breath as if she wants to say something but is stopping herself, then her smug look returns, "I would call you out for cultural appropriation but then again I guess I can't since you're the same type of Asian as that kid."

Scoffing, I retort, "the same type of Asian- are you stupid? You and I are both south Asian! What is that even supposed to mean?"

In Nepal, due to being sandwiched between India and China, there is quite a broad spectrum when it comes to the facial features of the people. There are some people who look more Indian, some people who have a mixture of Chinese and Indian features, and some people- like me- who appear more East Asian. I don't know exactly why this is but if I were to throw a guess I would say geography and which part of the country your family originate from play a role.

Naturally, I've become accustomed to people mistaking me for a Chinese, Japanese, Korean or as someone from any other East Asian country. The misclassification tends to be more common among white people but shockingly a lot of south Asian people have also unknowingly (I hope) made the same mistake. In fact, once another Nepalese kid called me the C slur at a party when I was younger. I was quite confused by that.