It’s time to find my adventure.

Then I remember Taylor said she put something in my sock drawer. I shuffle to the dresser. When I yank it open, I see them: the Prince Naveen and Kristoff dolls, still glammed up, still half-naked and abtacular, looking like queer gods in their own fairy world. Taylor has a knack for knowing what I need before I do.

After propping up the two prince dolls (hand in hand, of course, because they’re boyfriends), I grab the nearest sketchbook and the plastic carrying case where I keep all my pencils, charcoal, chamois cloths, stumps, and tortillons. There’s nothing like the crisp scent of fresh paper and a new pencil; it’s woody and earthy and clean. Sparks fly as my fingertips glide across the page.

The tip whisks fluid and free, brave and bold; the only thing in the world that matters right now is my art, and through it, I can be whoever I want, do whatever I want, live authentically on and through the page.

Stroke after stroke, swipe after swipe, I breathe life into the emerging figure. The muscles in my arm strain. I lean back, tilt my head, and close my eyes as images project on the backs of my eyelids. It looks like me, but it’s still far away. I have much more work to do to fully realize who this character is and what their story will be, but it’s a start.

I glance up at the shirtless Disney dolls holding hands, and there’s a pang in my chest. I want that. Maybe not the brazen shirtlessness—because the thought of a guy seeing my bare body is triggering AF—but the prince. To be the star of my own fairy tale. To not just see myself in the animation I love but to see a love story for the ages unfold, musical numbers and grand marriage proposals, knights in shining armor and all. This, being at CIA, is my chance to create it for myself.

Loose, relaxed, I push down on my fingers, listening to them crack one by one. The air is ripe with fresh graphite dust; I breathe it in and let it invigorate me as I get back to work, the first steps in creating a world, an adventure that belongs entirely to me.

For me.

I don’t know what it looks like yet or if it involves a Prince Charming, but it’s a start.

2

Freshman move-in day on campus looks a lot like the opening sequence of Beauty and the Beast. In this scenario, I’m Belle, wandering around her little town (the dorm suite), trying to mind her own business (nosily snooping at everything my new roommates and their families are bringing in) while the chaotic townspeople (hysterical parents) are so worried about their daily routines (literally running to claim free space like animals) that any disturbance sends them into a tizzy. I may not be a smart girl who reads (gasp!) in an ass-backward patriarchal town, but I am a queer person in a hot-pink T-shirt with an image of a shirtless Prince Adam (the human version of Beast) on a Grindr dating profile with the screen name B_My_Guest alongside the caption Prince in the Streets, Beast in the Sheets. My presence and the extremely colorful half of my room are enough to distract them from their missions.