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  “It’s not like I’m going to college or nothing,” I replied, not able to look him in the eye.

  “It’s not about going to college, Tony. It’s about the kind of man you want to be.”

  Zack never liked Glenn. Sometimes I wondered if the reason was because I’d started hanging out with him instead. Zack still smoked every chance he got—every once in a while he’d ask me to go get high with him during the school day—and I knew he got drunk every Saturday night, yet he somehow managed to be in church every Sunday morning.

  It didn’t help that Zack played the same position on the football team as Glenn—and Glenn was the starter.

  Randy Froelich was the complete opposite of Zack. He was little Mr. Perfect. A straight A student, never drank nor smoked, all the teachers liked him, and every girl had a crush on him at one time or another. He and I had never liked each other much, even when we were kids. His whole family thought they were better than everyone else—Randy certainly did. All his brothers were athletes, his sisters were cheerleaders. They’d all been Homecoming royalty, too—and pretty much everyone was sure Randy was going to be king our senior year. He and Glenn had been friends, though—they’d been in the college prep classes together. But after the Facebook posting, Glenn told me Randy had unfriended him and hadn’t spoken a word to him since.

  That was the kind of chicken-shit thing I’d expect from Randy. Everyone else thought he was such a great guy—well, I knew better.

  And now Glenn did, too.

  That was something, I guess.

  Glenn’s Honda Civic turned off the Kahola Road, and I started walking down to the mailbox. He pulled up to a stop and rolled the passenger window down just as I reached the foot of the driveway. “Hey, you need a ride?” His eyes twinkled. He always said that—and still thought it was funny.

  I opened the door and tossed my backpack into the backseat. “Yeah, that’d be nice.” I shut the door and buckled the seat belt as he backed into the driveway and turned around. “You nervous?”

  “Nah.” He shrugged. “What’s the worst anyone can do? Call me names?” He looked over at me and winked. “I’ve gotten plenty of that already. Fuck ’em.”

  I smiled back at him, but felt a knot forming in my stomach.

  “Can you believe Clark dumped me last night?” he went on, taking the turn back onto the Kahola Road a lot faster than he should have.

  I actually liked Clark when I met him. He was a tall, well-built guy with light brown curly hair and green eyes. He’d been on the swim team at Kahola High and left for college at Kansas State over the weekend.

  “Can you believe that? Says we’re going too fast, and he doesn’t think we should be tied to each other, you know, since he’s off at college.” Glenn went on, “Just means he doesn’t want to feel guilty for messing around with those hot college boys.”

  “That sucks.” I replied, not knowing what else to say, and hoping my discomfort with the subject didn’t show.

  “Guess I’ll have to find someone else to take to Homecoming,” he commented. “Whatever, you know. It’s not like I was in love with him or anything.” He looked out of the corner of his eyes as he stopped at a stop sign where we’d turn left to get to school.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he said, turning after waiting for a rusty Ford pickup to go by. “I don’t know, Tony. Maybe I was too impulsive about coming out, you know? Like my dad said, it probably would’ve been easier on me to wait till I was in college.” He shrugged as he accelerated. “I don’t know. I’m not sorry, you know. It’s nice to not have to pretend anymore, you know? It’s nice being able to be myself, for a change.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Does talking about it make you uncomfortable?” he asked, giving me a worried look. “Tony, you don’t know how much I appreciate you still being my friend.” He shook his head. “I had no idea people would be the way they are being. It just goes to show you.”

  “Well, Randy Froelich has been an asshole for as long as I’ve known him.” I looked out the window. “He didn’t surprise me in the least.”

  “Yeah. Whatever.” The Civic reached the crest of the last hill before the school.

  Southern Heights was a consolidated high school, drawing students from three little towns in south Kahola County. Glenn lived in the biggest of the three towns—Shawnee Falls, which was about seven miles south of Kahola, the county seat. The school was just outside the town I lived in and about three miles from the next town over, Carterville. There were a lot of farm and ranch kids at Southern Heights.

  The school was painted this ugly pale green color Glenn described as the shade of lime Jell-o with milk in it. The front doors opened into a lobby area, with the bathroom directly opposite the doors. One wall was the trophy case, crammed full with trophies from past glories of dear old SHHS. There was a long hallway off to the lobby area where the lockers were wedged between the classroom doors. At the other end of the lobby was the gym, which had a stage for plays at one end. The school had been built in the 1950s when the school board decided to close all the small-town schools in the south part of Kahola County and build one main high school. Unfortunately, the school district ran out of money before it was completed, so the air-conditioning was dropped. It wouldn’t have been a big deal but the building had been built with a central cooling system in mind. Each room had only two small windows that opened—and not all the way. The result was a lot of sweat and discomfort in August and September. Some of the teachers brought fans to try to make it more bearable. There were rumors every year that the school board had finally found the money—but it hadn’t happened yet.

  There were a couple of busses parked in front of the school. Kids were getting off and walking up the sidewalk to the front doors. The first three rows of the parking lot were fairly full already, but cars were still pulling in as we started down the hill. Glenn took a hard right into the parking lot and maneuvered his car into a parking spot right next to a red Mustang I recognized as Candy Dixon’s.

  She got out of the car as we parked, and waited for us, leaning against the trunk with a smile on her face.

  I’ve always had a crush on Candy Dixon, ever since we were little kids. Yeah—me and every boy in the school. Candy had always been pretty, had never gone through an awkward phase. She had long, thick red hair that fell halfway down her back and creamy white skin with freckles dusting her nose and cheeks. She had big green eyes and a sweet little figure. She looked good even when she wasn’t trying—like today, wearing a pair of jeans and a purple Southern Heights T-shirt. “Hey, guys,” she said as we got out of the car, falling into step with us as we started across the gravel parking lot. “Haven’t seen much of you over the summer, Tony. Were you avoiding me?” She winked at me, and her arm brushed against mine as we walked.

  Is she flirting with me? “No,” I stammered.

  Glenn looked at me and rolled his eyes. “Hey, there’s Laney. I should probably go talk to her. Catch you guys later!” He hurried across the parking lot to where she was getting out of her car.

  Candy tucked her arm inside mine. “How’s he doing?” she asked, lowering her voice as we got closer to the sidewalk leading to the front doors. “He holding up okay?”

  “So far, so good,” I replied, still not believing she was walking with me. “You know Glenn, though—he’s always so cheerful.”

  “He’s a great guy,” she said as I opened a door for us both, and we walked into the lobby of the school. “I’m worried about him, you know. I mean, Laney really was a bitch to him all last year, and now this.” She looked around and leaned in closer to me. “You know some parents want him expelled, right?”

  “Why? That’s just stupid.”

  “My dad shut them down at the school board meeting last night,” Candy went on, “but those parents—their kids—I’m worried about how they’re going to be.”

  “Let me guess, Brother Zimmer was leading the pack,” I replied grimly as we got
to the hallway.

  “Yeah.” She shook her head. “Well, here’s my locker—”

  Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by a shout from the other end of the hallway.

  I got a bad feeling and started walking down the hall faster, listening to shouting.

  It was Glenn.

  I pushed my way through a crowd of kids until I made it to the front, and caught my breath.

  Someone had written Faggot in big letters with a black Magic Marker on the front of Glenn’s locker.

  Mrs. Drury, our English teacher, had her arm around Glenn and was talking to him in a low voice. She looked up. “Everyone, get to class!” she ordered. “Go on!”

  The crowd began breaking up, everyone talking in low voices, but not before I saw Zack Zimmer, Randy Froelich, and Noah Greene smirking at each other. Noah was a running back on the football team and went to Zack’s dad’s church.

  My hands curled into fists, but I stopped myself from going after them.

  I walked over to where Glenn and Mrs. Drury were standing.

  “Don’t let them get to you, Glenn,” Mrs. Drury was saying as I walked up to them.

  “You okay?” I asked him, and almost flinched when I saw the pain in his face, how red his eyes were.

  He curled his lower lip. “I’m fine, really.” He forced a smile on his face. “I’ll be right into class, Mrs. Drury.”

  She looked back and forth between us, and nodded. She crossed the hall and disappeared into her room.

  “You sure you’re okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, but as I turned to open my own locker I could have sworn I heard him whisper, I’ll see those assholes burn in hell.

  Chapter Two

  By lunch, I was pretty sick of hearing about Glenn’s locker.

  Apparently, our principal, Mr. Lafferty, had the custodian or someone paint over that whole row of lockers by the end of first period. I guess they figured they couldn’t just paint his black, so they did them all. The entire hallway smelled of fresh paint—you couldn’t miss it. Glenn and the other kids with lockers in that row couldn’t get into their lockers until just after third period. The way everyone was talking about it, you’d think nothing else had happened in the world over the summer.

  I’d known it was going to be rough going that first day, but I had no idea what it was going to be like. I couldn’t help but notice some kids would stop talking when I got close enough to hear what they were saying, or for them to notice me. They’d smile at me guiltily and say hello, and then would talk really loudly about something else—a movie, some TV show, football, class, anything but what everyone else was talking about—there’s a gay kid going to Southern Heights now!

  And I knew some of them were wondering about me. After all, I was still his best friend, right? So maybe—

  And every class, without fail, right after the bell rang and attendance got taken, the teacher delivered a lecture. You could tell the ones who didn’t want to stick up for the gay kid—they didn’t even pretend to not be reading off a piece of paper Mr. Lafferty had given them.

  And then there were the ones like Mrs. Drury. She was literally shaking with anger as she lectured us about the importance of diversity, of accepting and appreciating our differences. “Even if you don’t understand them,” her voice rose, “you cannot simply hate someone simply because they are different. It’s wrong. Imagine how boring the world would be if everyone was the same! I know some of you watch Ellen Degeneres on television.” She went on, naming some openly gay and lesbian actors and musicians. “I know it seems strange to you that Glenn is gay, but view this as an opportunity to learn. Ask questions, do some research.” She leaned back against the front of her desk and folded her arms. “When I was in college”—Mrs. Drury was in her late twenties—“I met some gay and lesbian students. And you know what? They weren’t any different from me, other than being attracted to people of the same sex. They had two eyes, two arms, two legs, and all they wanted was to have friends and be liked, not be judged for having the courage to openly live as who they really were. That takes a lot of courage.” She glanced around the room, her jaw set, as if daring someone, anyone, to contradict her. “Think about that for just a minute. Think about how brave it was of Glenn to tell the whole world who he is, knowing that some people were going to judge—even hate him—for it.”

  As she went on and on, I couldn’t help thinking that even though she meant well and was doing what she thought was right, it was probably going to backfire and make things worse for him. It always amazes me how adults forget what it’s like to be kids. And when she gave us a homework assignment about the whole mess, to write an essay about something about each one of us that made us different from everyone else in the school, I groaned to myself.

  Yeah, making us write an essay about it is going to make us like Glenn better.

  When the bell rang, Mrs. Drury stopped me, She didn’t say anything until we were alone in the room, and she shut the door.

  “I’m going to be late—”

  She cut me off. “I’ll write you a note.” Her face was set, and her glasses had slid down her nose. “I want you to tell me the truth, Tony Martin. What are you hearing from the other kids?”

  I didn’t answer her at first and she glowered at me. I licked my lips. “Nobody really says anything to me,” I mumbled.

  She let out a sigh. “Tony, I’m a teacher, not your enemy.” She sat down behind her desk and took her glasses off, rubbing her eyes as she went on. “I know you kids would all rather be goddamned water-boarded before coming to a teacher for help, but this is serious.” She stared at me. “You know what’s been going on all over the country, right? How all these gay kids are being bullied into killing themselves? I don’t want that to happen to Glenn.”

  I laughed before I could stop myself, earning another glare from her. “Mrs. Drury, Glenn can take care of himself, believe you me. I don’t think—”

  She cut me off. “It’s not going to happen here. I won’t let it.” She narrowed her eyes. “I want you to keep your eyes and ears open, okay? And if you see or hear anything, or Glenn says anything to you, that makes you think he might go that way, you are to come to me immediately. Is that clear?” She pointed her right index finger at me.

  I felt my cheeks getting red. “Yes,” I mumbled as the warning bell for the next period rang, and slipped out of the room, hurrying down the hall so I wouldn’t be late for fourth period. I was pretty pissed, frankly—at her and at Glenn. Why was I getting sucked into the middle of all this?

  Fourth period was weightlifting, and Glenn was already in the locker room when I got there. He was sitting on a bench tying his shoelaces, having already changed into a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. He was all alone—which was weird.

  There should have been at least one other guy in there changing. I knew a lot of guys on the football team had study hall that period—the only choices were chorus or study hall, and at least eight guys on the team didn’t take chorus. I stood there for a minute, watching him and feeling like a jerk.

  If I was sick of hearing about his locker and everything, I could only imagine how it would feel to have it happen to me. I don’t know how the kids in his classes were reacting to the lecture, or how it would feel to sit there and know the teacher was talking about you. I wasn’t in the college prep track, so this was the only “class” we had together.

  I knew he hadn’t taken any of the shop classes. Mr. Mumsford had made it clear in second period Wood Shop that he was only reciting what Mr. Lafferty had made him say, and once he had finished reading from the piece of paper, had gone on a harangue about homosexuality being a sin in the eyes of God. You could see the word homosexual left a bad taste in his mouth. This was Glenn he was talking about, my best friend, and I could feel myself getting angry. “The only reason the school board is making us do all this,” he went on with a sneer, “is because that kid in Topeka killed himself last year and the
school board is getting sued over it, and they’re afraid this kid will do the same thing.”

  I glanced around the shop and could see some of the other kids nodding.

  He looked right at me when he said, “But according to the Bible, it’s a sin, an abomination in the eyes of the Lord. And who are we, who are any of us, including the members of the school board, to defy the word of God?”

  I somehow made it through the class without mouthing off to him, but it wasn’t easy.

  I’d always liked Mr. Mumsford and had enjoyed all of the shop classes I’d taken with him. His wife was the home ec teacher, and they had two kids in grade school over in Kahola, where they lived.

  After the bell rang, I went to the office and dropped the class.

  “Haven’t you taken shop every year?” Mrs. Wilson, the school secretary, asked as I filled out the form. “Why don’t you want to take it this year anymore?”

  I looked up at her. I knew Mrs. Wilson went to Zach’s dad’s church. Her son Ronny had graduated at the end of the last school year. He’d been on the football team and had always been a bully and an asshole for as long as I could remember. Her daughter Pamela had gotten pregnant her senior year, when I was a freshman. I smiled at her. She always wore baggy floral print dresses and her graying hair was always pulled back into a tight braid. She always smelt like roses. I thought about telling her the truth, but changed my mind—there wasn’t any point. I just shrugged. “Lost interest,” I’d said as I signed the form and passed it across the counter to her.