Warning, the story you are about to read deals with issues such as homosexuality and teenage sex. If your offended by such behaviors or your not of legal age to read such material, pleas exit now.

Still there?

Well good! The following story deals with the fictional path my life would have taken if only I I could of told my parents that I was gay almost ten years ago. Some of the characters within my stories are based off real people but their names have been changed to protect their identities. Any similarities to real events or situations are purely coincidental.


Waking up slowly in my comfortable bed, it suddenly came to me that I had to go back to school and face all of my classmates and "friends." Needless to say, I was not really looking forward to the whole situation. My strategy for the day was to stay out of sight because my thought was, out of sight out of mind. At least I hoped that my plan would work.

When I entered the kitchen a very unfamiliar sight confronted me. Replacing the usual bowls of cold cereal were various plates displaying all the accoutrements of what looked like a perfect breakfast. There was waffles, pancakes, eggs, bacon, and orange slices. This was beyond weird.

"What is all this." I was still shocked by what I saw.

"Well, since your going to need your strength today, I thought that I would be a mother and provide my son with a nutritious, hot breakfast. Is that okay with you?"

"If it's not okay with him, I will gladly eat his portion." My sister was always glad to help me out any way that she could. How thoughtful of her.

"Well thanks anyways, Melissa, but I think I can manage to eat without any of your help." With that I started to load my plate.

Before I knew it, it was time for me and my sister to catch the bus to school. The bus ride would hopefully give me fifteen more minutes before I would have to face any of my former "friends."

"Where do you guys think that you're going?" My mom asked.


"Well, I've decided that I would finish my parental obligations this morning by playing chauffer. That way we can continue to enjoy each other's company for a few minutes more."

I thought to myself that if my mom got any more weird I would have to call her doctor to see if her anxiety medication needed to be readjusted. But until that moment occurred, I was forced to take part in the shower of motherly love.


The time had finally come; there was no denying it. I was at school! Standing near the flagpole I fully realized the drastic turn my life had taken over the past week. I felt like an Amish boy who was caught using a telephone, I was being shunned. As long as I didn't make eye contact with anyone, things would hopefully not get worse.

"Hey faggot! I thought that you had come to your senses and left school!"

I looked up to see who my new harasser was. Just my luck, it had to be John Piper. One of the few guys that didn't like me well before I was outed to the entire school. This was not going to be a good day...

"I expect you to look at me when I talk to you, you queer! Why do you keep looking down? Oh, I know what the fags doing, he's checking out all of the other guys' crotches." With that, John mockingly covered up his groin. "Hey guys, I would be careful. I wouldn't want a fag to think about our dicks."

With that John slapped me in the back of the head and left the common area laughing with his group of followers. I was starting to wonder how I let my mom talk me into going back to school. I started to fantasize about the possible move. Colorado really didn't seem that bad with each passing thought. The first bell brought me back to my current situation and tolled the start of a very long day.


Back before me outing, I barely made it to my first class because of all the socializing that I did in the halls. This was not the case anymore. Since I was trying to avoid as much social contact as possible, I made it to Mr. Johnson's Biology class in record time. Being one of the first students in class, I chose to sit in the far back corner. Invisibility was apparently not my forte because Mr. Johnson made it a point to greet me when he entered the class.

"Well, well, well...isn't it Zackaria! I'm glad to see that aliens didn't abduct you last week! At least if you were you could have shared the whole adventure with the class."

Mr. Johnson was the only teacher at my school to call me Zackaria. His nickname for me was just part of his quirkiness. Did I forget mention that Mr. Johnson was one of those middle-aged, living in my mom's basement means I'm living on my own, science dorks? Hey, the guy wore the same oversized cardigan sweater every day regardless of the weather and a pair of oversized eyeglasses with a bridge across the top. Could I say more?


"No Mr. Johnson, the closest thing that I've ever come to aliens was riding through Roswell, NM on my way to Arizona."

"Well, I hope that you finished your make-up work because we're going to start new material today."

The first bell ended our little exchange, and the Mr. Johnson proceeded with his usual class roll call. I sat mindlessly as he went through all of the students' names alphabetically. Since my last name started with a "V," I knew that it would take a little time before I had to give my response. Unfortunately, someone else decided to respond for me.

"Zack V.," Mr. Johnson read.

"Queer..." A guy named Bruce in the second row responded.

Half of the class responded with a mixture of nervous glances and concealed laughter. A girl who I really didn't know just rolled her eyes. Originality was not ever one of Bruce's strong points, but his remark still made me a little bit nervous and angry. Unfortunately for me, Mr. Johnson seemed to not notice the change in class atmosphere. He finished reading the roll and began his usual lecture procedure.


Thankfully, the next three periods went without incident. I only got strange looks and whispers in the hallways as I went from class to class. Either the rest of my teachers hadn't heard the rumors about me, or they just didn't care. I was hoping for the former.

When I had finally started to get relaxed and forget about the troubles that I had earlier that day, the first lunch bell signaled that I had to endure another torture. I slowly got to my locker and got my sack lunch. Instead of looking at my former friends and my former table, I took a seat in the corner of the lunchroom.

The hour was just about over with and nothing bad had happened. Things were getting almost bearable. Just then something cold and wet hit me in the shoulder. Looking down, to my horror, I saw what seemed to be the remains of someone's hotdog. Looking around me I saw that all the guys at my former table were looking at me and laughing.

"Hey Fag! We just thought that you would enjoy a little meat for lunch! Sorry that we couldn't provide the real thing! We just don't happen to allow queers to touch our dicks!"

I was mortified, not only was I being assaulted by mutilated lunchmeat, everyone in the cafeteria had to witness the whole thing. Several other students were also laughing at my situation, while others pretended to eat their lunches. To my total shock, the teachers on duty did not attempt to reprimand any of my former friends for their actions. Coach Miller was looking right at me with a smirk on his face, while Ms. Kline pretended to need to tie her shoe. I was thankfully saved further humiliation by the fifth period bell.


Fifth period was one of my least favorite hours of the day, regardless of social situation. Fifth period was my athletic hour. I know what most people are thinking right now. Oh, I see! He doesn't like PE because he is not that very good at sports. Actually, I was pretty average at baseball and soccer. Heck, since I was taller than all of the guys in my class, I was pretty good at basketball. The reason I hated fifth period was because Coach Miller was an asshole! Just plain and simple.

Coach Miller was the ultimate football coach stereotype. Never seen without his trademark ball cap, athletic shorts, trainers, and tucked in polo shirt, he was the epitome of cliche. Coach Miller was one of those athletic guys that either became a coach or used car salesman after high school. He believed that the only way to motivate action was to be little everyone within shouting distance.

Being locked out of the locker room was no surprise because it had happened to me a week before. Since I was barred entry while the rest of the guys changed, I had to change into my gym uniform in the boy's bathroom down the hall from the gym. Needless to say, by the time I made it to class, I had missed most of the warm-up exercises.

"Mr. V, glad that you decided to grace us with your presence today! Had to make a quick stock to powder your nose or check your make-up?"

"I'm really sorry that I'm late Coach Miller, but I had to change in the boys' bathroom down the hall. The locker room was locked."

"Did I ask for an explanation?"

"No you didn't...but...I really tried to make it as fast as I could"

"Well I have the perfect thing for you then. Since you have trouble hurrying to class, I think that you need to run laps around the gym floor until either I tell you to stop or the class ends. Do you think you can handle that?"

"....yes sir..."

Now I knew for certain that I really didn't like Coach Miller. I couldn't figure out if he was punishing me because he didn't like me or if he was just an asshole. I seriously think that he got some thrill out of seeing me suffer. But, I had learned a long time ago to do what Coach Miller said and do it quickly or he would make you wish that you were never born.

Grudgingly I began the tedious process of running laps around the gym floor. Each lap got worse as time went on because I could still see the rest of my classmates enjoying my misery while they played basketball. I couldn't help but think that it was their fault that I was being punished like this. Relief flooded over me when the bell finally sounded, signaling the end of my agony.


Since I was still being banned from the locker room, I couldn't shower like I usually did after gym class. I had to change into my regular school clothes while still smelling like a gym sock. Let me just put it bluntly, I smelled pretty ripe and I still had 6th and 7th periods to deal with.

Sixth went by quickly buy miserably. My own smell was really getting to me. I finally only had one school period left and it was one of my favorites. Instead of going to a regular class like everyone else, I was able to spend my last hour at school helping out in the school office as a library aide.

Okay, okay, the job description did sound sort of geeky, but in actuality it was better than it sounded. Being an office aide basically meant that I got to read magazines, play computer games, and occasionally answer the phone. That was it. Pretty sweet deal when you considered the alternative...class.

Ms. Myers the school secretary was the first one to greet me and notice that I wasn't exactly the poster child for personal hygiene.

"Whoa honey, are the showers in the locker room not working again? I've been getting onto Coach Miller to get those things looked at, but you know how he can be. That man is just stubborn he is. Always been like that, I can still remember him when he was a child no taller than my kneecap...."

I knew I needed to think of something quick to derail the Myers train before it went on for another twenty minutes. I loved Ms. Myers to death, but she did have a tendency to ramble at great lengths.

"Nice to see you too Ms. Myers. Sorry to interrupt what seemed to be a very good incite into Coach Miller's faults, but I think that it would save us a lot of time and effort if you would just let me explain. The showers are not broken; I just didn't get the chance to use them after class today, that's all."

"Well, sweetie, why didn't you just say so in the first place. Why did you let me believe that the showers were broken?" Ms. Myers gave me one of her mock disapproving smiles and sent me to file some paperwork.


In the middle of typing absentee reports, I was interrupted by Mrs. Edwards, the school counselor.

"Well there's the man that I been wanting to see all week!"

"Are you talking to me?"

"Who else do you see that I could be talking to?"

"Just checking. What seems to be the problem?"

"I don't have a problem actually, but I do want you to talk to me if you want to address any problems of your own."

"Why, whom have you talked to and what have you heard?"

I was just a little bit paranoid. Okay, I was more than a little bit. The events of the day had shown me that not everyone at my school was okay with having a homosexual within their ranks. It really didn't meet the school's perceived status quo.


"Don't worry Zack, I haven't talked to anyone but a few of your teachers. It seems have come to my attention that your class performance has changed for the worse within the last two weeks. Several of our staff members seem to have attributed your sudden change to a rumor circulating the student body."

"I'll help you out with this one Mrs. Edwards. The rumor is that I am gay and I do have to admit that I have felt a little bit withdrawn because of it."

"May I ask what seemed to cause this sudden rumor about your sexuality?"

"Well...I'm actually kind of embarrassed to admit how it started..." How do you tell a person that you were caught looking at erotic pictures?

"You can have the confidence to tell me anything. Remember that you have my word that anything said between us is entirely confidential. I may be a counselor, but I am also your friend."

The mention of friendship really sparked an internal response for me. What I really needed right now was a non-family member that I could befriend and trust. With that in mind, I related to Mrs. Edwards the circumstances of the past couple weeks, leaving out the whole naked men thing of course. Mrs. Edwards seemed to be a really good and patient listener. I guess you would have to be when you're employed as a Jr. High counselor. She looked at me thoughtfully when I finally finished the retelling of events.

"Zack, I'm really sorry that you are going through such a traumatic part of your life. I really want to help you in the coping process. The first question I need to ask you is how do you feel about being gay?"

"I really don't know? I mean, I really don't know how to feel any other way. Its not like I was straight one day and was surprised the next day that I had switched teams. I guess I've always just felt like me...which I am pretty sure is gay."

"That is a good answer! Your acceptance of your sexuality really helps with the whole process. Since your pretty internally aware of your self, the next issue, is how do you feel about everyone else knowing that your gay?"

"I'm, excuse the word, scared shitless! I know that I needed to tell someone that I was gay some day, but I never realized that everyone was going to find out so soon. I wasn't prepared for everybody's reaction. It has been really stressful to say the least."

"I won't sugar coat it; it might get a lot worse before it gets any better. It might not seem like it would ever get better, but trust me, it will. Let's move from you to your parents."

"You mentioned that they were having a little trouble coping with your sexuality."

"My mom is being really great about it, but my dad took it pretty hard. He's currently not living at home, but him and mom have begun to go to couple's counseling to help."

"I'm glad that your dad has attempted to make an effort to understand your situation. Remind me to give you some books and pamphlets dealing with parents who have gay children."

"Okay, thanks."

"Well, I got to get back to my office and pretend that I actually have a job. Remember that if you ever need someone to talk to other than your mom, I'm just an office door away." With that, Mrs. Edwards left me to finish up my typing.


The last bell finally signaled the end of a very long and trying day. Even though their had been some low point of the day, namely lunch, the rest of the day was not entirely that bad. I could handle a few snide remarks here and there. What is the old rhyme our parents taught us? Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. I just needed to remember that!

Things were starting to look a little brighter. With a backpack full of books from Mrs. Edwards, I was relieved to get into my mom's car and ride safely home.



Well, that is the end of chapter four. I'm not really sure how I feel about it or where the story will lead from here. I really don't know...