Date Me, Bryson Keller(64)

I skim the rest of it, but my eyes snag on the parts toward the end.

Eric Ferguson, founder of Fairvale Academy’s very own LGBTQ club, had this to say when I questioned him about what it means to be gay in this day and age: “That we even still need to come out annoys me—no, it angers me. Straight people don’t have this fear. They’re free to just love and be who they are. We, on the other hand, are forced into the shadows, and when we do step into the light, we’re shunned for doing so. Yes, we have taken great steps, but we still have a far walk to go until we are truly treated as equal.”

    I hadn’t thought of this. But Eric’s words are backed up by the fact that the subject of this article has had to hide and keep to the shadows, only truly being himself in a different city, and far away from high school.

Two pictures follow. The first is of me in line for the Graces’ concert. In the background, there’s a group of men being affectionate with one another. They don’t look like strangers; they look like a group I’m a part of. It must have been taken while I was waiting for Bryson. A picture is worth a thousand words, and this one is telling a story of its own.

For those in the closet, it’s all about hiding, it’s all about keeping up the facade that you’re normal….But what does normal even mean? Who decided that? And why are gay teens still forced to keep secrets and live double lives?

The second photo is of me kissing someone who is clearly a boy. It’s the photo that Dustin took, but Bryson’s been blurred out. I’m the only one on show for the world to see.

Whatever relationships develop either have to happen in the spotlight, much like Eric Ferguson said, or have to be kept in the shadows, rendezvous in secluded areas. It’s unfair, and until this article I didn’t realize it was still this bad. I can see now that we still have a long way to go.

    “I don’t know, maybe if you looked beyond all that you’d get to know the real me,” he said to me in what sounded like a desperate plea. It was truth so loud that I found that I couldn’t ignore it. So I want you to know that we see you, Kai Sheridan. We support you. Live your truth.

The words start to blur into each other. My face is a flaming mess. The sound of blood gushes in my ears. Everyone in the parking lot turns to stare at me. Then the whispers start.

I go numb.

I feel nothing.

I hear nothing.

Donny grips me to hold me up. I’m sure without him I’d crumble.

This secret that I’ve tried my hardest to protect is now out there.

Coming out is supposed to be by choice.

It isn’t meant to be like this.

Never like this.





30


My numbness doesn’t last long. Soon I am filled with pure, undiluted rage. I’ve never before had strong enough feelings to say that I hate someone, but I’m pretty sure that what I feel toward both Dustin and Shannon right now is hatred—the bone-deep kind.

If they were trapped in a burning building, I would hesitate to save them.

In the end, though, I would because I’m not a goddamn monster. But with the article, it’s clear that both Shannon and Dustin are. They set fire to my house while I was locked in the closet.

“Kai, are you okay?” Priya asks.

I can’t speak.

“Where’s Bryson going?” Donny asks. “It looks like he’s going to murder someone.”

I look up and watch as Bryson storms into the school building. The start-of-day bell rings.

    “We should get out of here,” Priya suggests.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Donny says. He reaches for his car keys.

“No.” I start walking to assembly. I won’t run away, even though I really want to. I have done nothing wrong. I will not let Shannon and Dustin win. I walk into the auditorium. I try my hardest not to care about the pointed stares and fevered whispers.

The fifteen minutes of announcements drag by, but I focus on every word the principal says. I ignore everyone around me whispering about the article…about me. Donny and Priya stick close to me. They become my shield. I offer them a small smile. It’s all I can afford right now—a token of my appreciation.

The bell rings and everyone leaves the auditorium. I keep my head down and wait for drama to start. I feel the weight of eyes on me. It makes my skin crawl. Blood rushes to my face. Not because I’m embarrassed that I’m gay, but because I hate the attention. I hate that who I was born to love is now the latest gossip within Fairvale Academy. It shouldn’t be sprawled on the front page of a newspaper. My being gay isn’t news. What the hell was Shannon thinking?

I stand and take a seat away from everyone else. I pull my play from my bag and stare at a random page until Mrs. Henning arrives just before the start-of-period bell rings.

“Good morrow, my thespians.” She scans the class as she comes to a stop in the center of the stage. “Where are your plays? Why are we so distracted today?” Mrs. Henning claps. “Please, everyone, work with me.” She sighs and opens up her playbook. “Shall we cast the roles for today?”

    Not me, not me, not me…It becomes my mantra. Maybe even a prayer. Each time a role is assigned without my name being mentioned is a blessing. I am able to breathe.

“Now, for the role of Juliet?” Mrs. Henning looks up from her own play, searching for a volunteer among the sea of students.