A FEW DAYS of brainstorming passed before Wyatt recalled the tidbit his sister mentioned during their FaceTime, and he decided to investigate for himself. It was love at first sight, because as soon as he lay eyes on the minimalist aesthetic of the login page, which consisted primarily of a smokey taupe color (though the designers had managed to incorporate lots of white space), he knew that it was the place for him.
An uncluttered layout, along with a series of mouth-watering hi-res images that displayed podcast setups from the very elaborate to some that had definitely seen better days, was the final nail on the coffin to ensure that.
Wyatt was obsessed and for the first time in as long as he could remember, it had nothing to do with a boyânot even remotely. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one he would describe as good if pressed.
From a bit of internet sleuthing, he'd learnt that Podster initially started out as the final year project of three UCAL seniors who, on the advice of their professor, began to seek out corporate sponsors with a goal for expansion. They proceeded to launch in the early summer of 2015, and from a viral New York Times article that dubbed them the YouTube of Podcasting, the hype caught on like wildfire, growing until they got hit by a barrage of intellectual property related lawsuits, at which point they took Podster off both the IOS and Android app stores.
Within two weeks it was acquired by a family-owned American conglomerate, Donato Inc., and within four it had made its comeback to the app stores with a sleek new logo and design, going on to win several awards in the years that would follow. It had been smooth sailing ever since.
Are you a Consumer or a Creator?
Wyatt stared at the question at the top of the login boxâthen below, in a New Times Roman font, he read, Don't have an account?
His eyes returned to their former position, where the words seemed to taunt him without even trying.
Are you a Consumer or a Creator?
"Neither," he muttered under his breath as he pulled up the page to fill in his details. "I am a burden."
He cracked up at this, but it was fleeting as he realized how pathetic he must've looked from outside, alone in his room laughing at his own little bad joke.
A page pulled up, asking him to input a username, and naturally he typed his first and last name. A tiny red X icon appeared beside it after a couple of seconds, indicating that the name was already taken. He tried this with a variation of dots and underscores all to no avail, then tried a couple of other options that also happened to be taken.
Taking a deep breath, Wyatt imagined the thrill of opening an anonymous account, into which he'd spill all his secrets for the world without a care in the world, but just as quickly as it came the dream vanished.
He wasn't good at espionage, and even if he was he could say all that he intended to without having to hide his identity. Besides, doing so would effectively strip him of bragging rights. He was sure that mentioning you had a podcast you'd opened for purely vindictive purposes added, like, two times more personality.
On a whim, he typed in his full name into the username section and a green tick appeared beside it.
Of course it was available. Embarrassing middle names were so expected that it was almost a cliche, but even at that Wyatt believed his parents must've had a vendetta out against him to do him dirty the way they did.
The words that he had been dreading appeared on the screen once more:
Are you a Consumer or a Creator?
This time he didn't laugh.
On the internet, there was an ongoing debate as to why, exactly, Podster had received the amount of success it had, especially since Donato Inc. refused to release data in that specific area. Some claimed that the numbers were inflated, and a larger group believed that it was because of the app's almost interactive, call to action policies.
Podster did not entertain middle grounds. You either created, or subscribed to those who did. No option existed that would allow you to pick both, because once you chose a side you enjoyed a million little privileges that the other did not.
Creators for example saw listening stats on a particular podcast in the form of a detailed graph, while consumers saw them as pie charts. Both sides were allowed to pick from a myriad of different color schemes updated monthly; and while only creator accounts could get featured on the app homepage, consumers were the only ones allowed to 'tip' their favorite podcasters.
To Wyatt it all sounded like too much of a hassle, this setup of glorified radio stations on a platform that dealt heavily in you can't eat your cake and have itâbut the fact that it worked was undeniable.
His thumb hovered hesitantly over Consumer option for an unsure moment, but then he tapped on Creator, and immediately he was met with the Terms & Agreements page, which he agreed to without reading through.
Then he was let in.
The homepage was even more stylish than he'd imagined it to be, and at the top of his screen, the icons of a list of about eight recommended podcasts sat, in a style similar to that of a group of Instagram stories. They ranged from true crime, to culture and audio fiction.
Wyatt took a deep breath, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the standing mirror: face illuminated by the glow his phone gave off, tangled hair, and his feet cocooned in a pair of ratty socks he'd worn to ward off the November chill. The only thoughts running through in his mind were that he'd done it, and a sense of purpose filled him as he tapped on an icon at the very edge of his screen to start listening to his first ever episode.
God, he'd done it.
Or maybe he hadn't, because as it turned out, two days was all it took to dry out the brimming well of self-assurance he'd felt when he first opened his account.
In his defense, Wyatt thought much of it had to do with the fact that he'd spent back-to-back sleepless nights getting a feel of the other creators on Podster andâit was a hard pill to swallowâhe was hooked.
There was Because I Said So, an LGBTQ+ themed podcast hosted by Alfie, a third year at NYU who identified as non-binary and majored in Gender and Sexuality Studies. It had over a hundred and fifty thousand subscribers. From time to time, they also sometimes opened up about their ongoing struggle with addiction. Another one he'd recently gotten into was Make Tea, Not Love, a culture podcast hosted by Zaynab and Omar Malik, Pakistani-American siblings who'd made it their life's mission to have an opinion, usually scathing, on whatever unfortunate celebrity an episode was dedicated to.
Against a backdrop like this, his idea to create a personalized rant channel felt laughably indulgentâand even if it hadn't been, the slow realization that he'd gotten in over his head was starting to settle in.
Wyatt did not own a microphone, or any of the other equipment the Podster Creator Help page advised he would need to start off. He had no cover art (much less an eye-catching one), no plans to create an update schedule, and worst of all he had no title.
The only thing he knew for sure was that he wanted to complainâand compared to a fiery debate on Judith Butler's concept of gender performativity, or a run through the problematic icon that was Azealia Banks, his angle was basic.
"Alright," Tobi said, interrupting Wyatt's train of thought as he sidled up to him, gingerly setting his tray of spaghetti and meatballs down on the table. Their eyes met as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation, and around them the air filled with the aroma of his lunch.
"You've been scarce," he commented, arching a brow when Wyatt said nothing to refute or explain this. "Now that I think about it, it started after Gomez invited you to that partyâwhich I had to find out from Viv."
Wyatt sighed. "I can never tell that girl anything."
"Please do, so she can tell me," Tobi murmured, forking a meatball into his mouth. "Since you never tell me anything."
"You never tell me anything."
"It's different: I ask, you don't."
Which was technically true, but like a lot of things in life it was more complex than that. Right now, coming to sit with him, Tobi was needy. Wyatt knew this because sometimes in their relationship the dynamic would shift like this, especially if they felt like they were being neglected.
When this happened, they would start to crowd in on the other person's space, and it was either tolerated or not. Usually, Tobi did the tolerating and Wyatt the snapping, but that was because he had more of an emotional bandwidth than him.
But he could afford to. Everyone loved him.
"Always the last to hear anything about my best friend," Tobi continued, stuffing his face full of spaghetti. He paused to take a gulp from his bottle of water, and when he noticed that Wyatt was looking at him he gave a woe is me sigh, before turning his full attention back to his lunch. "I even had to hear about your AP Lit. presentation from Floyd."
"I'm convinced you had him take that class to keep tabs on me."
Floyd the baby-faced, who looked like he probably lifted weights as a hobby. He was one of Tobi's teammates, and though he had a notoriety about him earned from an awkwardly volatile temper, they got along well for the most part. They'd barely exchanged more than two words even though they took most of the same classes, but more often than not when Wyatt turned to look for something in his bag he would be there, just staring intently at him.
Personally, he felt like Floyd was a little in love with him, and maybe it was delusional to think soâbut when the alternative involved the other boy wanting to beat him to a pulp with those man child muscles, it was really not a difficult choice to make.
"I'm sorry," Wyatt said finally, shoulders slumped.
He'd meant the apology to come out sounding sincere because it was, but instead his words fell flat, monotone, and for the first time that afternoon Tobi gave a small frown.
"You're really shitty at this, you know."
I know, Wyatt thought. "Honestly, I don't see you winning any Best Friend of the Year awards either."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you leave me out of stuff, sometimes."
Tobi's brows furrowed. "No, I don't."
"Yes, you do. Then when it crosses your mind, occasionally, that I exist and you come around."
Not telling the other boy about the events at Harlan's party was not his fault, really.
On the Monday morning that followed after the party, he'd walked to Tobi's locker before first period to wait as he sometimes did, and when he finally showed up Wyatt had asked if he was free at lunch so they would talk. But he'd been peeved at the fact that he hadn't gotten invited along though he kept his tone light, and sensing he wouldn't be able to reach him Wyatt simply let the matter drop. Now this was happening.
"You know, I don't think I have time for this," he began, shouldering his messenger bag as he prepared to get up.
Tobi's hand flew out latching onto his forearm, effectively rooting him to the spot. He looked chastised, and grudgingly muttered an apology under his breath.
"Hold on, can you repeat yourself?" Wyatt said, "I didn't catch that."
"I said I'm sorry." A begrudging smile started to play at the corners of his mouth. "You get one free pass at a hug, if you're up for it."
"Just one?"
"Take it or leave it."
"I'll take it," Wyatt said without hesitation.
Public displays of affection were one thing they never shied away from, and it was his belief that Tobi gave the best hugs in the world. Slowly, he lowered himself back onto the bench.
"Right now alright for you?" the other boy offered, and he scrunched his nose up in disgust.
"Ew, no. You're all sweaty. And you smell like spaghetti sauce."
Tobi grinned mischievously, flashing a set of perfect white teeth at him.
"Well, now I want one."
"I'm not about to waste my hug coupon on you."
They carried on bickering like this for a little while, until finally, Tobi asked him what the problem was.
"Nothing," he said, and when this earned a look of skepticism in response he huffed. "Why? Do I look like I have a problem?"
Tobi shrugged. "Nah, I can always just tell when you have something on your mind. So what is it?"
Reluctantly, he relayed his latest dilemma to him in the half empty cafeteria, and it was like giving life to these words he'd only thought only made his cynicism grow,
"And me, opening a podcast to talk about myselfâlike wow, Wyatt, how shallow can you get?" He said, finally winding down. Tobi said nothing to contradict him, and he frowned. "You're supposed to make me feel better about myself right now."
"I mean, you can be a bit self-absorbed sometimes."
"It's called being self-aware."
"No, those are two different things." Tobi corrected, before rushing to add, "But it's the 21st century, we're all fucking self-absorbed. If you want to open a podcast about the cutthroat experience your love life has been so farâ"
"Very reassuring that you would describe it that way," Wyatt cut in drily.
"I was about to call it the Hunger Games. Either way, I say go for it, screw anyone who tells you otherwiseâeven if it's yourself."
For a moment both boys looked at each other, drawing the moment out until Wyatt finally cleared his throat.
"So how much am I getting charged for this session, Dr. Phil?"
Tobi let out a sigh, rolling his eyes as he uncapped his bottle and gulped down what remained of his water. He'd finished eating at some point during their conversation, and when he burped, Wyatt felt an eyelid twitch.
"You're such a lost cause," he murmured, and Tobi beamed, like it was the best compliment he'd received all day.
"If you're free after school we could head over to get some stuff to help you start up with," he suggested as they got up. "I'm a bit short on cash at the moment but I could chip in if you need some help."
"No, I think I could cover it." There was a brief pause as he stopped to think. "But yeah, I'm free after school."
Tobi nodded.
"I also know this YouTuber," he supplied, "he's got, like, 50K subscribers. He calls himself a gamer influencer or something. I could set up an introduction if you want."
He trailed off with a shrug, letting his offer settle between the two of them after saying that it might be helpful, and Wyatt considered briefly before giving a dismissive wave in assent.
In truth, he felt touched by the lengths Tobi was willing to go to show his support. With anyone else he may have started to tear up, but he'd die first before giving the other boy something to hold as leverage over him.
To emphasize this, he said: "I really do hate you. You know that, right?"
Tobi must've expected something like this, because he countered before he could react, pulling him into a crushing one-armed hug that try as he did, he failed to get out of.
"We both know that's a lie," his best friend said in response to the statement, smothering him even more. "You're obsessed with me."
Wyatt continued to squirm, and when he finally managed to break out of the deadlock he flipped him the bird, huffing in affront. The bell rang.