“What do you mean by ‘discontinue?’” Matt asked. “Like pause?”
William shook his head. “It means what it means. You get one shot at membership. Period. No second chances. We can’t take the risk.” He looked around the room. “Any objections?”
Matt waited, hoping one of the other members would speak up on Paul’s behalf. It just seemed wrong to cut Paul loose. If they did nothing, they would be complicit in tossing Paul to the lions—their fellow students in general, the dean and Colton specifically. And what if, in despair, Paul took the same road Adam had taken? This time the blood would be on the GM’s hands.
“I object,” Matt said.
Silence.
William motioned for Matt to continue.
“No one doubts that Paul is gay, right?” Matt asked. “He’s just scared and timid—more than we ever were. But, scared as he is, he hasn’t had gay guilt and ratted Harley out to the dean. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”
“It isn’t enough,” William said. “Our standard has always been that a guy must be comfortable enough in his own skin, that he’s accepted that he’s gay, and there’s no turning back. Paul isn’t there yet.”
Everyone nodded in grim agreement.
Matt looked around the group. He had said his piece. They had listened politely. The Godmother had made her ruling. He would be a fool to push any further.
Matt knew what he had to say.
The mere thought of it terrified him.
He took a deep breath, centered himself. “There’s something I haven’t told you. About me.” He broke off eye contact, stared at the floor. Started again. Stopped, then finally found his voice. In broken sentences, in shallow breaths, and blinking back tears, he told them about the rape, how it had trapped him in fear and shame. How he had known he was gay but couldn’t find the path out of the fear. “Rape is not the only way to terrorize a person with fear. Sometimes it is preacher dads. Maybe Paul just needs help finding his way.”
Chapter 10: Gay Chapel
Wednesday, August 23, 1995
Paul Olson walked like a condemned man, shoulders hunched, shuffling gait, eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. He was headed to chapel and didn’t even know the lions were sharpening their claws, that fags were on the menu.
Matt intended to warn him. He’d persuaded the GM to let him at least do that. Warn Paul and then go on to chapel alone was the plan. It was too risky for gays to congregate on campus anytime. It was reckless to do so for Gay Chapel.
Paul’s recruitment to the GM? Paused indefinitely but not terminated—a small victory as far as Matt was concerned.
Matt loitered in front of the Norick Learning Center, watching his fellow students file past on their daily trek to chapel. The late morning sun was bright. The air smelled of freshly cut grass.
Paul wasn’t hard to spot. Harley had described him well: short, stocky, stringy black hair, glasses. Spooked by his own shadow.
Whatever gaydar was, Matt’s didn’t work. He would have put Paul in the misfit toy tribe and looked elsewhere for a closeted gay. But Harley and William said this kid was one of them.
“Paul Olson, right?”
Matt was all smiles, slouched down to minimize the half foot height difference between them, hands shoved in his pockets to appear less threatening.
Paul applied the brakes and came to a stop a couple feet from Matt. “Present,” he mumbled, as if answering a prison roll call.
They were on the sidewalk, impeding the flow of traffic, which put them on a stage where their fellow students could observe and possibly overhear them.
“My name’s Matt Griffith. A mutual friend told me about you.”
“Who’s your friend?” Paul’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. They also scannedMatt’s body, checking him out. It was a quick scan, done in an instant—something Matt wouldn’t have registered had he not known Paul was gay.
Matt considered asking Paul to move their conversation onto the grass, away from eavesdroppers. Decided not to risk it. The guy was too skittish, like a feral cat sniffing a proffered can of tuna. Any sudden movements and this kid would dart for cover.
Luckily, approaching students couldn’t see Paul’s facial expressions. What they saw was Matt standing here casually and composed. Chill.
What they overheard was still a concern.
