TheFrom:line readsDr. Henry Matthews, Principal, MHS. Your heart does thatbumb bumb bumbthing again, but you’re not in trouble, right? It’s not your fault if people are calling you names. Oh God, what if you cheated on your quiz? You’re not sure how you could’ve, but maybe Ms. Suchecki thought you were looking at someone else’s desk when you were really staring at the ceiling?
One month in and already flunking, and you didn’t even do anything!
But no, the subject line readsToday’s Assembly, and you definitely didn’t do anything there, especially not compared to what Dayton Reilly did.
The computer lab is filling up. You’re the only freshman in this class. You had to appeal to your counselor to skip Comp Sci I, because it was all stuff you’d known since seventh grade. One of the juniors in the back row is snickering, and your hackles, your brand-new hackles, rise again. Are they laughing at you?
When did you get to be so worried? So… afraid?
Maybe that’s what the feeling in your heart is.
You’re afraid.
Not just anxious. Or nervous. Or any of the other million weird things you’ve felt since you started high school and had to learn all new rules and a brand-new building and suddenly you weregrown-upbut not really grown-up because you still have to do what all the adults tell you, but now they think you’re supposed to beresponsiblejust because you’re in ninth grade.
No.
Fear. Real fear. It’s new and it doesn’t feel good and you don’t remember being afraid before, but now Dayton Reilly’s shouting slurs for the whole school to hear, and people might be callingyoua slur behind your back, and maybe they really do beat up gay kids here. And you’re not even gay!
That doesn’t matter to them, though. Whoever they are. The bigots and homophobes and all the people who don’t like you because you’re you, because you like computers and LEGO sets and your cello instead of boobs andFortniteandwhacking it.
The bell rings, but Ms. Walton is always a minute or two late because the hallways aren’t exactly friendly to her wheelchair, soyou swallow away your fear and read Dr. Matthews’s email and hope that’ll make you feel better.
It doesn’t, though. You’re not sure there’s anything that could.
To the students, parents, faculty, staff, and community of Meadowbrook High School,
An incident occurred today during our assembly hosting Adam Markham, an award-winning poet and MHS alumnus who was kind enough to come speak to our first-year English language arts classes. That incident is inconsistent with our values here at MHS—values of tolerance, kindness, compassion, and integrity. I’ve already spoken to Mr. Markham to extend an apology on behalf of our entire school, but I’d like to take a moment to discuss in more detail what measures we’re taking and how the Meadowbrook community plans to move forward from this…
3DAYTON
As if getting in-school suspension wasn’t bad enough, you’re also grounded.
Your mom and dad won’t say for how long.
Your dad brought you home after the meeting with the principal. It didn’t count as part of your suspension; Dr. Matthews just thought it was best you go home for the day, since it was already halfway through Friday by then and your dad had driven to school and all.
But now it’s Saturday, and you’re bored, stuck in your room without your Xbox or your phone. You don’t even have any homework to do. You didn’t get the chance to go by your locker before leaving. Your dad was eager to be gone.
He’s already given you three different “How could you be so stupid?” talks. And your mom? Well, she gave you a long lecture about howdisappointedshe was. How shedidn’t raise you to speak that way. But at least she got it out of her system. Now she’s just grateful you got in-school suspension instead of out-of-school. That way shewon’t have to deal with you at home.
Not like she deals with you that much anyway. She’s always too busy with work.
The worst thing is that your brother’s barely talking to you,either. Marshall’s got more than one queer friend, and it doesn’t bother you. It really doesn’t. You’re fine with all of them.
You don’t hate gay people. You just…
You’re not even sure what you were just, anymore. It feels like it was someone else who did it. Even though you remember saying it. You don’t remember why. Or you do, but the reasons don’t make sense now, not in the way they had before you did it. A pouch of Pop-Tarts doesn’t seem to matter that much anymore.
Still, it was just one word. A word you’d never used before. Marshall knows you don’t hate gay people. So why is he treating you like you do?
A rumble of thunder shakes the windowpanes. You didn’t notice that it started raining. Now you can’t even get out and go for a walk. Your mom always lets you or Marshall get out for exercise, even when you’re grounded.
You can’t even remember the last time you were grounded. Maybe sixth grade? You don’t get in trouble. Not like this.
You roll over on your bed, fix the legs of your shorts where they’re twisted and bunched around your thighs, and stare at the popcorn ceiling. Sometimes your dad talks about scraping it off to “increase the resale value.” But so far it’s still there, the texture smoothed by the soft gray light of a rainy day.
You were supposed to go to Sephora this afternoon, you and Cooper and Tyler. Tyler’s mom was going to drive you. There’s a sale on fragrances, clearing out the fall ones to make room for winter even though it’s officially been fall for only a few days. Tyler’s in it for the sale—at this point his bathroom is probably half bottles—but Cooper’s still searching for a new signature scent.
