This is part 1 of 3 of a story I wrote last year told in Gabe's perspective when he was in high school. I posted this on deviantART, but never posted it here because 1) there are references to sex and 2) IT WAS SO BADLY WRITTEN... I really rushed through the story that I can't... I can't even look at the 3rd part. "orz
I've revised part 1 such that I can at least read it all the way through without cringing. xD; So I thought I'd share with you. This gets a PG-13 rating as a whole, because of sexual reference without explicit discussion. Sorry if this story is weird. ._.
Gabe's high school friend William Ebersbacher appears in this! This is what he looks like, if you don't want to leave it to your imagination:
This is more what he looks like senior year. I like these kind of faux hawk hairstyles. xD; My dad hates them, but I think they can look cool if it's not too extreme. /random
And here's what Gabe looked like, if you're interested:
He mentions something about his bangs in the story... which is because he has bangs. It's basically Jo's current hairstyle. xD; This is pretty close to what I think he looks like in 10th grade.
Also, this story isn't exactly representative of Gabe's entire high school life. He spent most of high school with a lot of friends as soon as the rumors about him died down, and when Will became his friend.
But enough talking. Here's the story. Thanks for reading, if you do! :D; SORRY FOR ALWAYS TALKING ABOUT SEXUAL ORIENTATION GUH. Probably getting boring. I tried not to make this a "gay boy gets bullied" story, but it kind of comes off that way.
***
1998, 10th grade
After I came out, some of my friends stopped talking to me.
Okay, most of my friends stopped talking to me. As expected, Dave put our little fling behind us and ditched me. His friends followed, then his friend’s friends, and his friend’s friend’s friends... until basically the only people willing to chat with me were my teachers, random girls looking for fashion tips, and my lab partner whose name I could never remember. But who gives a shit.
It was 10th grade, a year after Dave screwed with me and screwed up my social life. I'd grown over summer, played a lot of sports and stuff. Hell, I looked pretty damn good in my opinion. My height grew 3 inches to 5'9, and my arms looked stronger from playing basketball with my dad--who I hadn't come out to yet. Didn't think it was the right time to drop that ball on my parents.
Just about everyone had heard the rumors about Dave and me by the end of 9th grade. Dave tried to deny it, saying nothing happened between us. But they heard it from Dave himself: something happened between us. When no one believed that shit he put out, he pushed the blame on me. All on me.
"He did it! I didn't do shit with him, it was all Gabe!"
"I don't know what the hell he was doing, he tried to f*** with me."
"No way, I'm not like that. Hell no, that's sick."
'Course, they believed Dave.
Since that was what he wanted--Nah, since that was what everyone wanted, I went along with it. It was easy; I would be just like they wanted me to be. No use trying to fight it.
"Dave and me? Yeah, it's true. And he liked it."
"Yeah, I'm a fag. So?"
It really was true, anyways; I didn't need to lie about it. Dave got one little detail wrong with his rumors, though, claiming I was the instigator instead of him. But what the hell, it didn't really matter anyways. I wasn't the only gay boy in my school, so it wasn't like I had no one to talk to. Hell no, I wasn't gonna be isolated over something stupid like this.
"Why do you dress like that?" DJ asked me. He looked up at me from his seat at the lunch table. With a snap of his chin, he quickly fixed his inky black hair into place.
I glanced at my clothes: Grey sweatshirt, ripped jeans, duct taped converse. "Like what?" I asked.
"Like that--you like, look like you're still trying to pass yourself off as straight," he said, gesturing delicately at my whole being.
"No I'm not," I said, shrugging and slumping my hands in the pockets of my loose fitting jeans. "I just always dressed like this."
DJ crossed his arms across his slim frame. "Whatever. Listen Gabe, if you can't outwardly admit your sexuality to the world, then I don't feel comfortable talking to you. Honestly, I'm ashamed that you're so embarrassed with yourself. You need to quit lying to yourself." He turned his back to me and closed the conversation.
So I didn't talk to DJ. While the other boys like him weren't nearly as obvious as DJ was, I could tell they didn't like me either. And I guess I could see why; I wasn't really into theater, or musicals, or dance, or other artsy-fartsy crap. The most "gay" thing about me was that I liked cutting hair. Oh yeah, and the fact that I liked boys.
I didn't care--shrugged it off easy--I was company enough for myself. If no one wanted to talk to me, well, they could do what the hell they want and I'd do whatever I want. I wasn't lonely.
But I was hella annoyed.
After the bell rang for the next class, I shuffled with the crowds in the hallways until I reached the locker room. Coach sat in his office adjacent to the lockers, separated only by a glass wall. Aside from him, the rest of the boys hadn't come yet. I gave him a half hearted wave, which he responded to with an equally half hearted nod. He gestured to my locker in the back corner, expecting me to get dressed out for gym class.
I didn't feel like dressing out today. When the other boys had come in, made their usual commotion, and left with coach for class, I walked over to the bench in the middle of the empty room and laid down. I felt in need of a break after having DJ snap at me and almost closed my eyes when I heard a voice.
"Hey, you."
I sat up, searching for the owner of the voice. "Huh?"
I turned around and saw a guy--pretty tall and not badly built--from my gym class; couldn't remember his name, though. He scratched his head full of short blonde hair. "What're you doing?" He asked.
I shrugged and followed up similarly. "What're you doing?"
He chuckled, a smile pulling across his baby face. "I dunno."
"I just don't feel like doing anything right now. Kinda lazy... And all ever Coach makes us do is play lacrosse, which is frickin' stupid." I turned back around in the bench, but glanced back at the guy over my shoulder. "...what's your name again?"
"It's Will." Will came over and sat about two feet apart from me on the bench. He pulled an mp3 player from his pocket and put the earbuds in his head. "I didn't feel like playing either. P.E. is kind of stupid."
I smirked in agreement. "What're you listening to?" I leaned over closer to try and see the name on the screen.
"The Who."
"Hey, not bad." I reached my hand out toward his lap for the music player, which caused Will to scoot away in alarm. "Oh, sorry. Can I see what songs you have?" I asked for permission this time, trying to remedy my mistake. He handed it to me with a slight nod.
I scrolled through the artist names, and surprisingly knew most of them. "Hey, these guys--" I pointed to one of the band names. "I heard they came down here in the summer."
"Oh, yeah.” He shrugged casually with a hint of deliberate smugness. “I saw them"
"Serious? Damn, I wanted to see them. How'd they sound live?"
"They were pretty badass." He grinned again. "Their guitarist is like, frickin' God. They played pretty much everything from their first album, which was pretty sweet."
"Nice. I don't know really anyone else who listens to them. My little sis hates them."
He made eye contact with me for the first time since sitting down. "Huh... you have a sister?"
I nodded. "Yeah. She's a freshman now. Her names Janet."
He shrugged. "I don't know her."
I shrugged too. "She got Mrs. Simpson for math."
He responded with sympathetic smile. "Shiiiiit. Sucks for her. I had her last year, she's totally insane," he added with a laugh.
I laughed too. "That's what I heard. I mean, my sis is bringing home like a shitload of homework every night from her."
He laughed again, and put his hands behind his head. "You know, you're not so bad, Gabe... I just never talked to you 'cause everyone says you're gay."
I blinked. "I am gay."
Will raised his eyebrows, looking as if he was considering moving back to his original spot away from me on the bench. "You are?" he questioned, which I answered with a quick nod. "But... you don't sound gay," he continued.
I frowned. "So I sound 'straight'?"
"No, I mean the way you talk. You talk like a guy," he tried to clarify.
"Well I am a guy, so..."
"Agh, shut up!” Will interrupted. “You know what I mean! I mean most gay guys talk like girls."
"Well jeez. Sorry for not fitting your campy ideals," I grumbled. Go talk to DJ or something, if that’s what you expect out of me, I almost said out loud. I caught myself and kept it inside to avoid making any more enemies.
"No, it's just, I mean..." He sighed at his inability to communicate. "I’m trying to say that you don't act like it, so why?"
"'Why' what?"
"Why're you gay?" He pursed his lips, looking sincere in his question.
"I dunno." I shrugged, and stared at my feet. The same question came up in my mind occasionally, but it never bothered me to the point of actually answering it. "I couldn't really tell you why... I just... don't think girls are that pretty, and I think boys are kinda cute."
"Boys like Dave?" he suggested.
I chuckled. "Yeah, I guess that’s the shit they’re saying, huh?" Will abashedly hung his head down to look at his music player and probably muttered some sort of apology, though I couldn't exactly tell. Shrugging his embarrassment off, I continued. "I thought Dave was pretty hot last year... He's a total douche for playing me like that, though."
Will glanced up. "Whaddaya mean?"
“What, you actually wanna hear this?” I asked curiously and raised my eyebrows. “You don’t care about this stuff.”
He shrugged and mumbled, “I don’t mind hearing,” before going back to fiddling with his mp3.
"Uh... sure.” I pushed my bangs out of my eyes and let out an uncertain cough as I prepared myself for my story. “Anyways... What was I saying? Oh, yeah. He’s a douche. Like, He told me he loved me and shit... And I'm such a dumbass for believing him. I was really stupid last year." I bit my lip. "It’s like... I didn't really want to sleep with him, really... It was our one month anniversary or something--"
"One month?" Will sounded surprised. "You were together for that long?"
"Ha, yeah...” I chuckled. I almost forgot that to Dave and everyone else, our relationship had been more of a one-night-stand. “He was the one to ask me out, actually. Obviously we didn't tell anyone.”
I put my arms behind my head and leaned back. “Anyways, it was our monthiversary or whatever, and he was all 'Get on the bed Gabe, show me you love me,' and shit. So I let him do it to me, 'cause... ‘cause I thought I loved him. But his mom came home... We almost got busted."
I tried to smirk, but I felt like crap--It'd been awhile since I thought about what actually happened between Dave and me. Hearing it out loud it sounded like a lame setup for a chick flick... minus the quirky yet silly flow of events and happy couple smiling in the end.
"Dave kicked me out of his house, and some week later rumors about Dave and me started. I dunno how... Dave must've slipped up on accident, 'cause I didn't tell anyone. And then he started saying it was my fault and I was some sort of fag and pervert and that he didn't do anything. Effing liar... I mean, yeah I like guys, but he was just as much a fag as I was. Or I dunno. I dunno what I'm trying to say..." I paused, and looked over at Will. He stared patiently, his mp3 still in his hands, but tucked neatly between his folded fingers.
"And don't tell anyone about this stuff, okay? The rumors are screwed up enough, and I don't wanna put gas on the fire."
Will nodded, but started a rebuttal. "But you know, all that... that’s not what I heard about you, right?"
"Yeah, well, what about it?" I pouted, and pushed a hand through my spiky brown-and-blonde hair. "It doesn't matter, anyways. What everyone thinks is true enough. All everyone cares about is that I'm gay, and both stories tell it that way."
Will’s eyebrows pulled up in concern. He opened his mouth as if he had something to say, but only managed a simple "Oh,” as he returned to his music.
"Hey, Will... Uh..." I mumbled in a lame attempt to get his attention.
"Huh?"
"Nothing, just... y’know... Thanks, I guess. I've never talked about this kind of stuff with anyone. It's just nice to get it off my chest," I admitted. "I haven't even come out to my parents yet."
"Huh. How come?" he asked casually, as if he didn’t understand the sincerity of my gratitude.
I shrugged.
"But you don't care that everyone at school knows," he noted.
"Yeah, well, they're not my parents," I said, as if I felt more comfortable around my classmates than my own family.
"Huh. Uh... Maybe you should tell them, though? I mean, they're your parents. They might end up being the really supportive kind of parents or something. You're not even that ga-- uh, girly. And even if they don't get it, they won't hate you. When I get an F on a test or come home past curfew, my parents still love me." He smiled. Jeez, what an optimist.
"It's not like that, Will. It's different..." I imagined the look on my cheerful mom’s face when I failed a test: initially shocked, then a reluctant sigh from her throat, followed by a mild scolding and a hug to encourage me to keep going. Then I tried to envision her if I told her I liked guys: Initially shocked, then... something. I didn't know what came after that.
"Well, whatever... I guess you can do what you want." He scrolled through the songs on his mp3 player.
"Can I listen too?" I asked. He nodded and handed me an earbud.
"Will, you're straight, right?" I asked, as the music (quieter than I preferred) rang in my ears.
He nodded.
"You have a girlfriend?"
He shook his head.
"You like anyone?"
He cleared his throat, and looked away. "A girl in our English class."
So he was in my English class, too. I opened his mouth to ask who he liked, but Will wrinkled his lips and turned his head away to drop the topic. We listened silently to his music until we heard the other boys come back.
I went back to my corner, where I couldn't see a thing.
***
