I know she doesn’t believe that. It’s just what she has to say.
I can’t stay. I can’t stay and see Sam’s face when he realizes what happened. I have to get out of here.
Ms. Kinsey says my name again as I rush out of the room, but I don’t stop.
This was no accident. I know exactly who did this.
Tracking down Lowell isn’t difficult. He’s loitering by the vending machine near the science wing, blocking another shorter but heavier boy from putting quarters into the machine. As I approach, I recognize the boy as the one who spoke to Brendon that day in the hall. One of the GSA kids. Gary? Garrett? Something like that. He looks unhappy, and it doesn’t take long to figure out why.
“I’m doing this for your own good,” Lowell says in a faux-sweet voice. “You need to go on a diet. None of the other boys will want a fatty sucking their dick.”
I’ve seen this behavior from Lowell before, the same way I’d seen it from Warren and Joey and even Kristen, tossing out homophobic slurs like they were nothing. And when it happened I did nothing. It barely even registered; it was like white noise. Sometimes I even laughed along for show. At least it wasn’t being said about me—and I know how embarrassed I would’ve been if it had, because that was how awful everyone I hung out with agreed being gay was. And I thought it was okay as long as I didn’t actively participate, that it was enough for me to secretly believe in my heart of hearts that there was absolutely nothing wrong with being gay even if I never dared say it out loud.
I thought it was enough, and it is so far from enough. I can’t change what I’ve done and what I haven’t done, but I can change what I do now. I can actually do something. Stand for something.
The boy at the vending machine is shifting from foot to foot, his face beet-red, but he doesn’t say anything. He turns to leave just as I come storming up.
I totally can do this. I can.