“Magazine? Hmm. Sweetie, I hope you know that the boy-next-door thing you’ve got going on is hotter than anything in a magazine.” Bas walked with him. “Don’t let anything change that. Even dating a rock star.”
“Are you saying you have a thing for me?” Adam asked. He’d missed a lot recently. Was that something else he should have been paying attention to? Was he breaking Bas’s heart?
“Oh no, honey. Sweet as you are, pretty as you are, my buttons are not pushed. But a guy can dream, right? Everyone dreams of finding that special someone. You’re just not that someone for me.” He sighed dramatically. “Now if you find that fine Tommy Foster has been hiding some queer secrets in his closet, you point him in my direction.”
Adam laughed and shook his head. “You are so over-the-top. But thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Anytime. See you later, okay?”
“Meet me outside for lunch, and you can sit with me and Ru.”
“So there, sweetie!”
Adam waved good-bye and made his way into the empty classroom. He opened his folder and began to write about Bas, his odd humor, and how uplifting it could be. His pen moved with little coaxing, and soon he had nearly two pages, and the classroom was starting to fill up. Someone sat down next to him, and Adam’s spine stiffened. He glanced over, trying to remember the guy’s name.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” Adam replied with the expected straight-boy nod.
“I’m Dustin.”
Adam finally looked up, studying the boy, who didn’t appear threatening or otherwise misleading. He just sort of looked a little shy and nerdy, with oversized glasses, messy short brown hair, and a short- sleeve button-up shirt.
“Adam.”
“I know. You’re sort of a legend. Standing up to Nate. And that article about bullying was great. The ‘rents don’t get it, but you nailed it. It’s not that we don’t want to tell. It’s just that we can’t, ’cause we know it will get worse. I never thought about the fact that just facing them, looking them in the eye, might stop it. It’s brilliant.”
“Doesn’t always work, but sometimes gives them pause. And thanks. I guess.”
More people piled into the class. A lot of them called out “Hello” to Adam, who just threw them a tight smile and a wave. Were they all for real? A few days ago they’d been staring at him like he was the class freak; now they all wanted to be friends? He sighed and went back to writing.
“I was wondering...,” Dustin leaned over and whispered, making Adam tense. “Can you introduce me to your friend Sebastian?”
“Why?” Adam demanded. “He’s had enough trouble at this school.”
Dustin glanced around the room and then back, his face turning a little red. “I kind of like him. You know, like,likelike him. I’m even in two of the same classes as him, but he never glances my way.”
Adam blinked at Dustin for a minute, trying to make sense of the words coming his way. “Oh. Um. Maybe. I will talk to him.” That was Bas’s decision to make, though Adam had no problem pointing the guy out.
The loudspeaker clicked, letting them know there was going to be an announcement. A second later Principal O’Brien’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Will all of the junior class proceed to the auditorium, please, for an assembly.”
Everyone in Advisory glanced around, searching each other’s faces for a reason they were first. Probably because Adam was a junior and this had all started with him. He hoped it ended with him too. He got up from his chair and headed for the auditorium, not caring that everyone else was taking their time.
He made his way to the front row, sat down, and pulled out his pen and paper. Michelle sat down beside him a minute later, then Dustin from Advisory. Even knowing what it was about didn’t prepare Adam for the visuals Bas had created. When the lights were lowered, a map of the USA appeared, then a picture of a kid, girl or guy. The screen flashed through them really fast, attaching faces to states and shrinking them down to fit. The progression started slow and began to build faster and faster, filling up states with dots of faces until the map was covered, state lines vanishing.
Bas stepped up as the map finally stopped. “Every year almost five thousand students commit suicide.” He pointed to the map. “Those are the kids who died last year. For every death, there are a hundred other attempts. Fourteen percent of you have considered it. And do any of you know why?”
The map changed to a picture of a big guy pushing a smaller guy into a wall of lockers.
“Seventy-seven percent of high school students claim to be bullied. One hundred sixty thousand kids stay home from school every day because they fear being bullied. Kids who are bullied are more likely to commit suicide than one who isn’t. And suicide is the third leading killer of those under eighteen.” Bas took a deep breath as the picture changed again, this time to images of him after the beating he took last year. Profile pictures from the front and side, more like mug shots than hospital photos.
Adam flinched. He knew it had been bad, but hadn’t seen the swelling or bruising. His broken wrist felt like nothing in comparison to this.
“Last year I was cornered in the school bathroom and beaten by three jocks who didn’t like the fact that I am gay. I lost so much blood that I almost died. If I hadn’t been found by a friend who went and got help, I would have died. Others had come and gone, ignoring my cries for help and the blood on the floor.”
He paused and looked up toward the light like he was trying to keep himself together. His eyes glittering a little with unshed tears. “After I got out of the hospital, all I could think about was having to return here, to the place where not only was I bullied almost to death, but where people ignored my pain. I tried twice to kill myself. First by swallowing a bottle of pills, but thankfully my grandmother caught me and rushed me to have my stomach pumped, which is awful if you’ve never had it done, I don’t recommend it. The second was the night before I was to return to school.”
He picked up the microphone out of the stand and walked toward the front edge of the stage. “I had locked myself in the bathroom with nothing but my phone and a knife. I was sitting there crying, totally terrified of the prospect of stepping through those doors and passing those jocks every day. Terrified, humiliated, and tired.”
