When I open my eyes, I notice that Mom has left two things on my desk. The first is the photo strip of Bryson and me. It’s crinkled but intact—a lot like me. I pick it up and study those perfectly captured happy memories. I miss him.
The second is a large envelope from Tisch. With my heart in my throat, I rip it open. I only look at the first lines:
Dear Mr. Sheridan,
Congratulations…
I scream and I hear Mom laugh behind my door.
I rush to charge my cell phone. When it’s powered up, I clear all the messages and notifications without reading them. I open my camera and take a picture of my acceptance letter. I text it to our group chat.
Oh my God! Priya texts back. This is amazing! I’m so happy for you!
Donny sends a celebratory GIF.
I open a new text to Kelly and pause. I tap the edit button and change the name to Bryson. I want to share this news with him, but I don’t know how. I look at the strip of our photos. We look so happy and hopeful.
We should talk.
I delete it.
Can we meet?
I stare at those words for a while before deleting them, too.
I miss you more than I thought possible.
I snort. There’s no way I’d have the confidence to send that. Annoyed with myself, I throw my phone on my bed and head downstairs to celebrate my good news.
* * *
• • •
Later, we’re eating dinner. Dad wasn’t in the mood to cook, and so we ordered in. We’re celebrating my acceptance—both of them. After Saturday night, I thought a dinner like this would be impossible, and yet here we sit Tuesday night. It almost feels normal.
“How was school, Yazz?” Dad asks.
Yazz sighs heavily before she begins to list all the things that annoyed her at school today.
“So, was there anything that you liked?” I ask.
Dad and Mom laugh. Yazz fixes me with a blank stare.
“I’m going to let that slide because I know you’re going through a hard time.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Oh, Kai, you need to see Ms. Coleman when you get back to school,” Mom says. “But there’s no rush. You can go back when you feel ready to.”
I sigh. “No. I’ll go back tomorrow.”
“So soon?” Dad asks. The worry is etched on his face.
“I don’t want them to think they’ve won, that they’ve chased me away. I won’t give them the satisfaction.”
The doorbell rings. We all pause and look at each other. “I’ll get it,” I offer.
When I pull the door open, my heart soars at the sight of Bryson standing there.
“Who is it, honey?” Mom calls.
For a second, I think about lying. But I’m done with the lies, done with the hiding.
“It’s Bryson.”
I step out of the house and pull the door closed behind me. The chill night air greets me. I’m oddly nervous to see Bryson. I don’t know why he’s here, but a large part of me is glad that he is, happy that I get to see him even for a little bit.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“You sent me a text and then didn’t reply afterward. You ignored my calls, too, so I had to come.”
“What text—” I start to ask but stop. Horror dawns on my face. I feel the blood rushing to my face.
“This one.” Bryson holds up his phone toward me.
I miss you more than I thought possible.
My words. My confession. Oh God! It went through.
Bryson pushes his hoodie down, and for the first time I get to see his face. It’s bruised. Without thinking, I close the distance between us and reach for him.
“What the hell happened to you?” I am both angry and worried.
“Dustin and I needed to talk.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I say. “I don’t want you to get into trouble for me.”
“A three-day suspension isn’t so bad,” Bryson says. “It was worth it.” He still sounds like he doesn’t quite believe it. “I’m sorry he did this to you.” Bryson blinks back tears. The betrayal is a fresh wound to him. He’s hurt just like I am. And I am powerless to do anything to help him, because right now I can’t even help myself.
I realize that I’m cupping Bryson’s face. I move to pull away, but Bryson grabs my hand and pulls me to him in one full movement.
“I missed you,” he says as he hugs me. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. My arms are at my sides. I want to hug him so bad, but I think that we need time apart. I need to deal with the mess that is my life before I can drag him into it.
I step back, and Bryson reluctantly lets me go. He studies my face and he must see what I’m going to say as if it’s already written there.
“You need time?”
“I need to deal with everything,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I don’t like it, but I get it.” He smiles then. It is small and timid. Bryson heads back toward the Jeep. He pauses at the door. “Call me if you need me. Anytime and anywhere.” He gets in and rolls down his window. “I’ll wait for you, Kai Sheridan.”
I watch as Bryson drives away.
I am both happy and sad. I want nothing more than to chase after his disappearing taillights, but I know that I shouldn’t. I can’t right now. I will not out another person against their will. Maybe when everything dies down, we can go back to how we were.
I sigh and walk back inside.
Mentally and emotionally, I start to prepare myself.
Tomorrow I go to war.
33
Mom is driving me to school. It feels strange not to be in Bryson’s Jeep. I’ve grown so used to our routine. The school day has already started, but Mom doesn’t seem to be in much of a rush. We even stop for coffee at the drive-through before heading to school.
“Call me if anything happens,” Mom says. She’s idling in front of the building.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Even so.”
I nod and climb from the car.
“I love you, Kai.”
“I love you, too.”
Because of my late arrival, the halls are empty. Ms. Coleman is the guidance counselor, and while I’ve been to her office a few times, I’ve never been there with an actual honest-to-God problem. I knock.
“Come in,” Ms. Coleman calls.
I enter the office and find her seated behind her large desk. She offers me a warm smile and points at the empty chair opposite her.
“Have a seat, Kai.”
I do.
Ms. Coleman hands me some pamphlets. I read the first one: It’s Okay to Be Gay. Then the next: My Sexuality and Me. And the final, and maybe my favorite, one: Gay Means Happy, Too.
I flip them to the back to see who wrote them and try to hide my surprise when I read Denise Coleman.
“Uh, thanks,” I say awkwardly.
“Of course,” she says. “If you have any questions or need anything else, my door is always open.” Ms. Coleman reaches into her drawer and places a handful of condoms before me. My eyes widen in horror.
“Always practice safe sex,” Ms. Coleman says. “Gay or straight, remember there should always be no love without a glove.”
I want to hide my face in shame. I want to evaporate and be reborn as rain falling two weeks from now. I want this torture to end.
“Be sure to share those with your boyfriend, if you have one,” Ms. Coleman adds. I’d be surprised if it’s possible for my face to get any redder than it is right now. “Is there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?”
I shake my head.
“Well, as I told your parents on Monday, Fairvale Academy does n
ot tolerate such nonsense,” Ms. Coleman says. “This matter will be dealt with severely, and the Fairvale Academy Herald is under review. We’re questioning the editor and have called in her parents, but she refuses to reveal if she had any help with the article. She claims she’s protecting her source.” Ms. Coleman clicks her tongue. “I can’t believe stuff like this is still happening.”
And that’s the truth of the matter. A lot of people believe that this stuff doesn’t still happen…but it does. There are still people who have to fight just to exist, just to love. Just as there are still people who will go out of their way to make that very simple human right something unattainable.
“Dustin Smith sent her one of the photos. I’m not sure about the other, but I think that was her doing,” I say. I don’t feel bad about “outing” Dustin. Fair is fair, after all.
“Hmmm. He’s already been suspended for fighting.” Ms. Coleman makes a note. “But I’ll pass that along to Vice Principal Ferguson. We’ll talk to him and his parents when he gets back.” She looks up. “Hang in there.”
Feeling exactly the same as I first did when I walked into her office—if not more embarrassed now that I have a pocket full of condoms—I leave. It’s ten minutes to lunch, so I decide to waste time while I wait for the bell to ring. So far, I haven’t encountered anyone, but I know what awaits me in the cafeteria.
I pull out my phone and open my group chat.
I’m at school. Meet me at Big Bertha.
I head toward the vending machine. I kick Big Bertha and bend to pick up my soda. While I wait for lunch, a freshman runs past. She almost crashes into me, and I barely manage to avoid a repeat of last week. I chuckle.
The bell rings. Donny and Priya arrive five minutes later. Priya rushes to hug me. I laugh. Donny doesn’t hesitate to join in.
“I’m proud of you for coming back,” Priya says.
“I didn’t have much of a choice. I need to graduate.”
“You could have taken the rest of the week off,” Donny says. “No one would have blamed you.”
“I’m tired of running away.” I finish my soda. “This is me. It’s out there, so I might as well face it head-on.”
“Well, you have us,” Donny says.
“All for one, and one for all,” Priya chants.
I smile. We start walking toward the cafeteria but stop when Shannon comes into view. She sees us at the exact same time but continues as if she will just walk right past us. It pisses me off.
“Aren’t you even going to apologize?” I ask. The students in the hallway all stop and turn to look at us.
“Apologize for what?” Shannon asks. She crosses her arms. “I did my job, reported a story—that’s all. I think I helped you.”
“The Herald isn’t some tabloid,” Priya says. “I thought you wanted to be a real reporter.”
“It got the most views of any story this year. I call that a success.”
“And that makes you proud?” Priya asks.
Shannon fixes Priya with a look that should kill. “Why are you talking to me? This has nothing to do with you.”
“That’s the thing with you, Shannon. You’re never really sorry when you hurt someone,” I say. “You always have excuses, always have your reasons. And they always matter more than the hurt you caused. That’s what makes you a bad person.”
Shannon rolls her eyes. “Save your speech, Kai. Nothing you say is going to make me feel bad. I did what any reporter would do.”
“I really want to punch her in the throat,” Priya says. “Just right in the jugular.”
“She’s not even worth it,” I say. I meet her gaze. “Do you really think a story like this is going to get you off the waitlist?”
“Shut up,” Shannon says. She looks around.
“Wait…you’re waitlisted?” Donny asks. “You told me you got accepted to Stanford when I did.”
“Oops.” I bring my hand to my mouth in mock apology.
Donny throws his arm over my shoulders. “You should know that my parents love Kai. When I told them what happened, they were very upset. Dad even offered to call the chairman of the school board himself. They go golfing every Sunday afternoon.” Donny smiles at me. “Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”
The three of us leave Shannon standing there with her mouth hanging open. When we’re out of earshot, I whisper to Donny, “Did your dad really say that?”
“Yes,” Donny said. “He’s calling your parents today to set something up. I’m pretty sure Shannon has written her last story at Fairvale Academy. And I’m pretty sure she can kiss being valedictorian goodbye.”
“I wish something worse would happen to the wench,” Priya says.
“Wench?” Donny asks.
“I’m trying to use alternative curse words where she’s concerned. The normal ones have stopped feeling good.”
I laugh. We enter the cafeteria, and it’s like all at once everyone notices us—notices me. I can feel the blush rise on my cheeks. I’ve never heard the cafeteria so quiet before. It lasts a few heartbeats before the whispering starts. I can’t do this. I’m about to backtrack, but Priya links her arm in mine.
“You can do this, Kai,” Priya says.
“We’re right here with you,” Donny adds.
Everyone is watching, but Priya and Donny don’t seem to care. I find that comforting, and soon I am mirroring them. We sit down at our regular table and have a perfectly normal lunch. The people who matter to me most accept me for who I am—100 percent. And there is power in that. It is my shield and my armor.
“You know, your mom went on a rampage on Monday,” Priya says. “It’s no wonder she and my mom get along so well.”
“Was it embarrassing?”
“A parent standing up for their child should never be embarrassing,” Priya says.
“It was totally embarrassing,” Donny adds.
“Shut it, Donald.” But there is no malice behind Priya’s words. Donny simply smiles and dips a fry into ketchup.
I laugh.
Thanks to Priya and Donny, I survive my first lunch back at school. People continue to talk about me, but I choose to ignore it. I go through the day with blinders on. The end-of-day bell rings and I make my way to the parking lot to wait for my friends.
I’m standing next to the Quackmobile when Eric approaches me.
“Hey.” He offers me a smile.
“What’s up?”
“I just wanted to check how you were doing.” Eric shakes his head. “I didn’t know that my quote would be used for that. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Screw Shannon. I want you to know that Mom’s upset. She says she’s going to punish everyone who was involved in this.”
“Really?”
“Of course. Outings are not news. They’re a violation. And they’re something that should never happen at Fairvale Academy. This has given the LGBTQ club a new mission.” Eric shifts on his feet. “You know, you’re always welcome to come to a meeting if you want. We more than just fight for rights and talk about serious stuff; we also just hang out and have fun. Sometimes it’s nice to spend time with people who get it.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Let me know if you ever need anything.”
“Ooh-la-la,” Isaac says as he’s passing by. “This is romantic.”
“Grow some brain cells, Isaac,” Eric says with an eye roll. He offers me a parting wave. I watch him leave before turning to look at Isaac.
“You’re such an asshole,” I say.
“What?”
“Did making that comment make you feel better? Did it make you feel cool?”
“What are you talking about?” Isaac asks. “It was just a joke.”
“Jokes are meant t
o be funny, you jackass.” I cross my arms and stare him down. “That one wasn’t.”
Isaac shakes his head. “Loser.”
I watch him walk away. This will be my new normal now that I’m out. There will always be someone like Isaac waiting in the wings to say or do something homophobic. It isn’t right and it isn’t fair. But it is life.
I will be happy despite the hate and the homophobic assholes. And if I fall down and stumble, I know that I’ll have people to pick me up, to support me.
My coming out might have been less than ideal, but even so, I know I’m one of the lucky ones.
I will survive this.
34
I’ve made it through yet another day of school. Thursday passed by so fast that it felt like I skipped it altogether. Today was the easiest so far. But even so, I am exhausted. It feels as if I could sleep for a week. Instead, I turn up my music and open my homework.
I check my phone for any messages. Bryson hasn’t texted since we spoke outside my house. It makes me sad even though I know I’m the one who asked for time. I type a quick response in the group chat and put the phone down. Just then, there’s a knock at my door and Yazz pops her head inside.
“Are you busy?”
“Why?”
“I have something for you.”
“For me?” I turn on my desk chair to face her. She holds up her sketch pad. “What is it?”
“I figured you might need it.”
I open the pad to find Yazz’s very first comic book. It’s about a gay superhero. One who looks an awful lot like me.
“When did you start this?” I ask. There’s no way Yazz could have completed this since Saturday night.
“Last week,” Yazz says. “After I figured out what was going on with you and Bryson.”
“What? How?”
“I’ve suspected it for a while, to be honest,” Yazz says. She pushes her black-rimmed glasses back into place. “But it was confirmed when I saw a message on your phone. Kelly is Keller, right?”
“How did you know that?”
“I’m smart,” Yazz says. “Plus, I know you, Kai. The smile you had when reading those messages was a dead giveaway. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that happy—that free.”
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