Riley Weaver Needs a Date to the Gaybutante Ball

by Jason June

Genres: YA LGBT & Pride; YA Contemporary; YA Coming of Age

Synopsis

The next LGBTQ+ young adult rom-com from New York Times bestselling author Jason June (author of Jay’s Gay Agenda and Out of the Blue). 

Femme, gay teen podcaster Riley Weaver has made it to junior year, which means he can finally apply for membership into the Gaybutante Society, the LGBTQ+ organization that has launched dozens of queer teens' careers in pop culture, arts, and activism. The process to get into the society is a marathon of charity events, parties, and general gay chaos, culminating in the annual Gaybutante Ball. The one requirement for the ball? A date.

Then Riley overhears superstar athlete, Skylar, say that gay guys just aren't interested in femme guys or else they wouldn't be gay. Riley confronts Skylar and makes a bet to prove him wrong: Riley must find a masc date by the time of the Ball, or he'll drop out of the Society entirely. Riley decides to document the trials and tribulations of dating while femme in a brand-new podcast. Can Riley find a fella to fall for in time? Or will this be one massive—and publicly broadcast—femme failure?

This new novel from Jason June explores how labels can limit and liberate us and shows just what can happen when you bet on yourself. 

Release date: May 23, 2023

Publisher: HarperCollins

Print pages: 320

Sample

Excerpt from Episode 1—Riley Weaver Needs a Date to the Gaybutante Ball: “How It Started”

Let’s start at the very beginning. A very good place to start.

My name is Riley Weaver, and I’m a junior at Mountain Pass High. Yes, the Mountain Pass High of Gaybutante Society fame. That lucky school an hour outside Seattle that fate decided would be forever linked to the much-flashier New York City, Atlanta, and Los Angeles branches when the four GS founders met at a Maine summer camp in 2002. It was four years before I was even born, but their creation of the buzziest society for LGBTQIA+ teens would trickle down and affect my life now, more than twenty years later.

Here’s the first thing you should know about me: I want in. I want to join the ranks of the Gaybutante Society and make a mark like so many Gaybutantes before me who have gone on to become artists, actors, singers, politicians, activists, you name it. I will become part of this year’s class of queer tastemakers and have so many interview subjects for what will hopefully one day become my number one podcast. I like to talk a lot, and the only thing I like more is hearing other people talk and share their stories. But for this podcast, my very first podcasting endeavor, I’m going to be sharing my story as I complete each of the tasks required to be deemed a Gaybutante: Service, Hosting, Mentorship, and General Gay Chaos. I figure I’ll go after that last one first and get started with the chaos.

Which leads to the second tidbit you should know about me: I’m femme. I like to wear feminine clothes (and don’t you dare call them women’s clothes, because clothing doesn’t have genitals), I dabble with makeup most days, and of course by “dabble” I mean eyes, cheeks, bronzer, highlighter, the whole shebang.

Gender-wise, I’m still figuring things out. I’m not trans, but I don’t consider myself cisgender, since “boy” and all the expectations that come with it don’t always fit. I do still go by he/him pronouns. I feel sort of like a dot somewhere in the middle of that line connecting the two ends of man and woman, rather than somewhere outside of that binary entirely, so saying I’m nonbinary doesn’t feel quite right, and I don’t want to take away from the people who know for sure that nonbinary is the term that best describes them. But my best friend and producer of this podcast, known here very creatively as Producer, says I shouldn’t worry too much about labels. But I feel like I should address my identity, genderly speaking, since that’s a key aspect of this podcast and my mission to get into the Gaybutante Society. Say hi, Producer.

Hi, folks. Producer over here, he/him, and if anybody sends an email to the show with questions or advice for Riley, I’ll be the one relaying the info.

Thanks, P. So, to recap, the two things I know for sure are that I’m outwardly and inwardly femme, and that I’m gay. Which apparently is the problem. At least according to The Jock.

Quick sidenote before we begin: names have been changed to protect the identity of those involved and to protect the future earnings of yours truly because I don’t want to get sued on some bogus defamation charge, even though everything I’m saying here is one hundred percent true, and if the truth happens to make anyone look like an asshole, that’s on them, sweetie.

Okay, now that we have that covered, let me tell you why I, Riley Weaver, need a date to the Gaybutante Ball.

Chapter 1

Five days earlier

Nothing makes my leg jiggle harder than gay impatience. It shakes up and down with anxious anticipation as I scan the quad for any Gaybutante faces.

“We’re two weeks into the year and they haven’t made a move. When are they going to announce the season?” I feel my silver hair bounce back and forth as my head bobs from side to side.

“How they’re going to do it is what I’m most concerned about,” Sabrina says, her head staying perfectly still so she looks way less like a chaotic gay chicken than I do. But her eyes swing left and right, and she’s got that slight flush she always gets whenever she’s excited. Her white cheeks look mildly sunburned and her smattering of freckles stands out.

“There’s definitely not going to be explosions this time,” Nick says. “Ms. Hassbend burst a blood vessel in her eye from screaming so hard after last year’s rainbow confetti cannons.”

Nick doesn’t take his eyes off his phone, most likely watching some behind-the-scenes footage of one of his favorite movies. It’s just his bright blue Afro and a sliver of his dark brown forehead visible over the top of his phone. Nick may be a part of the queer alphabet soup, but he’s not down for the intense attention Gaybutantes get. He’s the only out queer junior who’s decided not to throw his hat in the ring, and he really hams up the disinterest. But despite his outward indifference, I know he’s just as invested in how the Gaybutante Society will announce the season.

“What’s that?” Sabrina throws her arm in front of me like she’s my dad driving his truck and slamming on the brakes. My turkey sandwich lands with a wet slap on the damp cement under my bench, but it’s fine. I can’t eat. Not knowing we’re this close to the big reveal.

Sabrina’s eager eyes fall. “Never mind. It was just a seagull.”

“You two are going to burst a blood vessel if you don’t chill,” Nick says, nonchalantly skipping an ad on whatever it is he’s watching.

“Oh, come on, just because you don’t want in doesn’t mean you’re not curious too,” I say, playfully tapping Nick with the toe of my bootie. “Your production-obsessed heart can’t help but appreciate all the time and effort it takes to coordinate these things.”

I nudge his phone down, and a small smile pushes up his round cheeks. “Okay, fine. You’re right. But I’m not going to waste my breath talking about what’s going to happen until it actually happens.” He finally puts his phone on the table and grabs one of my hands, the sparkling silver polish on my nails going really well with the glistening navy blue on his. Nick holds out his other hand, and Sabrina places her polish-free fingers in it.

“Deep breaths,” Nick says.

As one, we inhale for four beats, exhale for five. It was this trick I read about on the internet when I had jitters before my second stint as the morning announcements announcer in seventh grade. It wasn’t that I was nervous; I was too excited. I had so much adrenaline the first day that I recited the school news way too fast. I sounded like I’d had a thousand energy drinks or something. So I needed to figure out how to slow myself down, and this helped. The trick has stuck ever since, and Nick is usually the one to start it nowadays, since Sabrina and I get carried away with our excitement pretty damn quickly.

“Thanks, Nick,” I say through my exhale. “You’re the most important wheel of this tricycle, keeping us grounded. I don’t know what we’d do without y—OH MY GOD, IT’S HAPPENING!”

Three flashes of red light burst in the distance over Nick’s shoulder. In any normal town, this could be a number of things: a stoplight, a radio tower, brake lights. But this is Mountain Pass, a tiny town up in the Cascades, where the only thing you can see is a billion evergreen trees and the reflection of the highest peak in the mountain range—Mount Rainier—glistening in Peak Lak

. Not to mention it’s a hazy day in mid-September, so to see any light in the sky and not just gray cloud cover means something.

Every head of the juniors and seniors lunching in the quad snaps to the sky as my scream echoes through the space. Nobody’s alarmed—they’re all used to me screaming about something by now after eleven years of school together—but they all know to pay attention. If I’m screaming, it means I’m screaming about something good.

The three red flashes zoom above the trees and become three solid dots, quickly followed by dozens more. They zip through the air and form a red arch.

“Drones,” Nick says, calm and cool and like we aren’t about to have the big reveal I’ve been waiting for my entire life. “Neat.”

He’s right. The drones’ metallic gray bodies and whirring fans lift the glowing orbs attached to them into the air. This has to be the work of Paola Burgos, bisexual Puerto Rican goddess of drone art and a Mountain Pass Gaybutante who graduated in 2016. She’s been hired for drone performances all over the world and is rumored to be working on a piece for the next Olympics.

“Neat?” Sabrina says, incredulous. “Our lives are about to change forever and all you can say is neat?”

Nick shrugs, that small smile getting even bigger. His favorite pastime is messing with us when Sabrina and I are getting all worked up about something.

“Rainbow!” somebody shrieks behind me. “It’s definitely a rainbow!”

We all ooh and aah as more and more drones add to the lineup, a row of orange arching beneath the red, then yellow, then green, and so on. Little bursts of white even gather at the ends to look like clouds. Then, as one, the drones whiz through the air, a mechanic dance routine that forms a word blinking in all the colors of the rainbow.

GAYBUTANTES

They flip and turn and re-form once more.

ARE YOU READY?

They zip into word after word, the anticipation bubbling inside me with each one.

THE

SEASON

STARTS

NOW

It’s brilliant, it’s gorgeous, and everyone has their phones pointed at it. The Gaybutante Society social accounts must be blowing up right now with the Mountain Pass High announcement of the season.

I zip open my neon-orange cross body and take out my compact. I do a quick once-over. After trying approximately a million different brands, I’ve finally found the right foundation that won’t shine, flake, or cake over any stubborn stubble spots. Everything’s still in place. My lilac eye shadow hasn’t smudged, I have just

 the tiniest amount of oil that a little blotting paper will soak up in a sec, and my silver swoops of hair are still chicly disheveled even after my chaotic chicken bob.

I’m ready all right.

PEAK PARK 3PM

The drones give us the location of our first Gaybutante Society meeting, then blink out of existence, falling into the trees where Paola is sure to be waiting with her assistants and apprentices to pack it all away. It’s a lot of work for sixty seconds of art.

But that’s the Gaybutante Society for you. It doesn’t matter how much time it takes to make something come together as long as it makes a mark, a lasting impression on your audience’s life. And the number of successful Gaybutantes speaks to how much that effort pays off. I mean, the group has spawned four Billboard Hot 100–charting artists, two mayors, one congressperson, one Fiercest of Them All runner-up, an Academy Award nominee, a three-time Tony-nominated actor, the inventor of an indestructible steel heel, I-can’t-even-count-how-many social media stars, and the nation’s first nonbinary dating show lead on a broadcast network. And that’s just off the top of my head. The wildest part is the group has an agreement that once you start earning a living wage, you donate 3 percent of whatever you earn to pay for future Gaybutante events and all members’ health care. And it’s worked! It’s like a union except they all get to work in whatever field they want and share the love to the group that’s supported them along the way if any of them make it big. It’s fabulous.

Here’s hoping that in just a few months, I’ll be among their ranks and the group can add “host of the nation’s most downloaded podcast” among their alumni accomplishments. I mean, yeah, that’s a pretty lofty goal there, especially considering people’s obsessions with true crime podcasts, but a girl can dream. I’ve been waiting for just the right theme to launch a podcast of my own that will truly stand out, and I’m hoping inspiration will strike soon. But in the meantime, I’ve learned the interviewing ropes hosting my own Q&A hour with Mountain Pass residents for our local radio station, KMPK, The Peak. I talk with my guests for an hour, getting deep into their lives and why they love Mountain Pass, but that’s all going on a brief hiatus while I commit my whole heart and soul to the Gaybutante season.

“It’s all happening!” Sabrina turns to me, a glimmer of hope in her eyes, or maybe that’s just the last of the drones reflecting in them before the little machines are lost to the forest. “I’m making vet science sexy again!”

“That’s right you are,” I say, and throw my arm over Sabrina’s shoulders. She wants to let the STEM gays out there know that they have just as much a place in the Gaybutante Society as any artist or politically minded member. She wants to become a veterinarian, and other than a few shirtless male dog doctors on social media, she doesn’t think that vet science 

gets the attention it deserves. Plus, it’s very male dominated. She’s ready to spark the drive for girls everywhere to become a vet. She could definitely do that on her own, but the Gaybutante Society jump-starts things for their members, seeing as how they have a combined following of millions of people. One share from, say, an Oscar-nominated member or one of our chart-topping musician alums creating a playlist to soothe your cat on the way to Sabrina’s animal clinic and bam! People know who you are.

“You’ll be the face of animal medicine before you know it. And with the help of the GS, folks will be freaking flocking to get into veterinary school. They’ll be pawing down your door to join your lesbian-led vet clinic.”

“Okay, let’s not go overboard,” Sabrina deadpans.

“All I’m trying to say is, this is going to be the best year yet.” I spare her from People will be hounding you for advice.

Nick’s forehead furrows. “But what if you don’t get in?”

I clutch my nonexistent pearls and gasp. “Nick! Why would you say such a thing?”

“All I’m saying is it seems dangerous to hinge your happiness on whether or not this one group of people accepts you.”

My mouth falls open, and I blink my extension-enhanced eyelashes at him. I look at Sabrina. She looks at me. We look at Nick together.

“It’s not like it’s hard to get in,” Sabrina says.

“Yeah. It’s really just making sure the folks who try out are actually willing to put in some effort. We don’t just sit around and hang out. We do charity, we throw parties, we plan gay shenanigans. Anybody who shows they can do the work is accepted. And as many people as want in will get in as long as they try. We’re shoo-ins.”

Nick nods. “You’ve just got to be prepared for things to not go as planned. You two get your hopes up about everything, and when a wrench gets thrown in there . . .” He trails off, and I know we’re all imagining the time Sabrina and I both melted down when she didn’t get chosen for her equine therapy internship last summer. “I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

“Somebody’s feeling ominous today,” Sabrina says with a scowl, fidgeting with her dirty blond ponytail.

“No, no—don’t go nervous ponytail pulling on me,” Nick says. “I’m just saying to be realistic. Life can throw curveballs at you, right? Just be happy with yourselves and know no matter what happens with the Gaybutantes, you are each a part of my heart and always have a place in my society.”

“Niiiiiick,” I say. “What are you, a tree? Because that was sappy. And I loved it.”

Nick rubs his hand over his face, which he always does when he’s embarrassed. His skin is so dark that most people can’t tell when he blushes, but his habit of instantly trying to wipe away the warmth in his cheeks is just as blatant. He can’t take a compliment or any open adoration, which is simultaneously frustrating and adorable. I picked this up from all the time we’ve spent together, walking the woods behind my house, or zip-lining

through the course my dad runs on our property. Mountain Pass might be this little idyllic town, but there’s not really much to do, so you just kind of end up talking to each other. A lot. And any time I pay Nick a compliment or get as sappy on him as he gets on us, he sort of shuts down. Like right now, where he picks up his phone and leaves the conversation.

“Riley, you don’t seriously think you’re going to become a podcast host with puns like that, do you?” Sabrina asks, bumping me with her shoulder.

“Just you wait,” I say. “Pun man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

 

Everyone’s eyes are on us as we leave Mountain Pass High and walk through Main Street to head to Peak Park. Mountain Pass is one of those annoyingly quaint towns with the high school, middle school, and elementary school sitting at one end with a perfect view of the lake, and then a stroll through the old-school brick building town takes you to the park where everybody can partake in said lake’s freaking freezing—I mean, perfect and pristine—waters. Seriously, you walk through this town and supposedly it’s like you’ve gone back in time. There’s the Mountain Pass Café, the Mountain Pass Cinema (complete with one screen), the Mountain Pass Bed & Breakfast in which the owner, Tim Clammette, tells everybody about who’s staying there and why. There’s a lot of Mountain Pass camaraderie here, and, like, hardcore loyalty, which is why you really won’t find anything without Mountain Pass somewhere in the name.

Thanks to the Gaybutante Society, the town has kind of been put on the map as this home to influential queer folks. So, we get a lot of artsy-type tourists, and the town is pretty LGBTQ-friendly. Which was nice when I came out as gay and femme my freshman year and started wearing a ton of high-waisted pants and booties and throwing on a face of makeup (my looks that first year were atrocious, but you’ve got to start somewhere, right?). Nobody really batted an eye—they congratulated me on getting a step closer to knowing who I am in my heart and asked if they could give me a supportive hug (it gets very lovey-dovey here). But, instead of people judging you for your gender expression or sexuality, once you come out, you get questions about the Gaybutante Society and what sort of mark you’re hoping to make on the world. It’s weirdly a lot of pressure. You come out and instantly all eyes are on you. Not because anyone thinks you’re abhorrent or an abomination, but because people expect big things out of you from the jump. It’s wild.

The only problem with that is I don’t just have big things expected of me from the town—I get it from my family too. See, the thing is, I’m cursed. Or blessed, depending on how you look at it. My mom’s family, the Haydens, have been in Mountain Pass since the start. Like, since 1916 when the city was founded and known for logging. Great-Great-Grandpa Hayden was the first 

Hayden opened the library, Great-Great-Uncle Bobby opened the Mountain Pass Saloon—and it’s still owned by my mom’s cousins, even though they live down in California now. Everything is just . . . great. Except Mom expects me to stay in the town, not just because she’s taken after Great-Great-Gpa and is the mayor herself, but because after my grandparents died and her cousins moved away, we’re the only Hayden descendants left. Meanwhile, I want out.

It’s not that I don’t love it here. Mountain Passers are amazing, and thanks to my radio show, I know a whole lot about a good chunk of them. But I’ll eventually run out of new folks to talk to. I just want more than what this tiny place can offer. I want to meet more people, hear more stories, see as much of the world as I can. It’s weird to live in a sort of quaint, Hallmark-movie paradise yet know in your heart it’s not enough.

But unlike most Mountain Pass Gaybutantes, the pressure on me to stay and never experience anything else is intense, thanks to my mom. The owner of the radio station, Wilhelmina Zanos, has already told me I can take over the business once I get my degree in broadcast journalism and she retires. So, Mom thinks life is perfectly planned out for me, and I can carry on the Hayden tradition of boosting up Mountain Pass. This is why the Gaybutantes are so important. If their platform can make my name big enough outside Mountain Pass, I’ll have a solid case to convince her that I need to go see the world. With a large enough following, she’ll realize that other plans can be just as safe and reliable and Hayden-pride-creating as a job waiting for me back home.

From the wide-eyed looks of Tim Clammette, and Jasmyn Ngoza, the cinema owner, and the lead barista / café owner, Roz Bianchi, and just about everyone else in town whose excited gazes follow us twelve Gaybutante Hopefuls as we walk down the street, it seems like other people believe a fabulous future could be in store for me too. I don’t want to let them down. I don’t want to let me down.

“Look at them all, Cliff. They’re so cute. Our little gaybies.”

The current senior Gaybutantes are just as pumped, apparently. They stand in front of the lake in Peak Park, the reflection of Mount Rainier glistening on the surface as the water gently laps against the shore. The soothing sound does nothing to slow the pounding of my heart as we take the last step out of the parking lot and my pre-Gaybutante life. The fact that Sabrina and I haven’t said a word to each other this entire walk is saying something. The fact that none of us Hopefuls have said anything shows just how seriously we all take this.

Front and center in the Gaybutante crowd is Lonny Bu—Korean American pansexual crocheting whiz whose Etsy store is going to solidly fund her college education with the most intricately designed sweaters, scarves, and hats that I’ve ever seen. Next to her is Cliff with the cleft chin—white, gay, essentially a high school version of Superman who, word on the street is, has already

 been approached by multiple modeling agencies to sign with them, but he insists on waiting until he graduates. Behind them are the eleven other senior Gaybutantes, as well as Paola Burgos. I can’t stop staring at her, and I’m resisting every urge in my body to leap forward and ask her to follow me back to the radio station so I can record a banger of a return episode once my show kicks back up in the spring.

“Lonny, we know who they are,” Cliff says. “They’re juniors. We’ve all been going to school together practically our whole lives.”

“I know,” Lonny replies, her eyes getting wider with each passing second. “I’m just seeing them differently now that they’re one of us.”

I get exactly what she’s saying. That’s one of the weird things about the Gaybutante Society: once people get in, they take on this celebrity status. Most of us have known each other our whole lives. Mountain Pass is a town of only about ten thousand people, and there’s not even four hundred kids in all of Mountain Pass High. So, at some point, you’ve been in a class, or on a band trip, or on a sports team (minus yours truly; I do not athlete) with just about everyone in the school. But when the world takes note of that familiar face, you suddenly see them in a whole new light. Sure, it’s not like the Gaybutante Society is this huge unstoppable force, and not everyone goes on to superstardom or anything, but the odds seem greater that you’ll affect the world once you join. So, when Lonny went from winning every art competition in Mountain Pass to suddenly having a TikTok following of 1.1 million, you’re like, whoa. You know? And most of the Gaybutantes in front of us have similar stories, or even if they don’t have a talent to showcase quite yet, they’re noticed by association.

It’s intoxicating.

“Anyway,” Lonny says, the pattern on her sweater almost an exact replica of the Peak Lake scene behind her, “we’re here for a very specific reason. To start the Gaybutante season.”

I cheer loudly, but I’m literally the only one.

My cheeks instantly blaze, and I know for sure my layer of blush is too light to do anything to hide it.

“Yes, good, Riley,” Cliff says, directing a megawatt smile my way, and I’m positive my blush gets even blushier. He’s said my name probably a hundred times before, but today it just hits different. “We want excitement! This is the Gaybutante Society! It’s not your senior seminar or something. Let loose! Don’t be so serious.”

Sabrina laughs nervously, then whoops, and a few other people clap weakly. ...