Date: Mon, 29 Mar 2010 12:04:33 -0400
From: andy deats <andydeats@gmail.com>
Subject: Chords and Discord

(if you have not read my first story, Live For Me, I would suggest reading
it first, as this story takes place in the same fictional town with
allusions to some of that story's characters. While this story is a
stand-alone and can be read by itself, reading Live For Me can enhance the
experience. Live For Me can be found on Nifty under gay/high-school or on
my personal website tripod.andydeats.com, as well as on Codey's World or
Awesome Dude, www.codeysworld.com or www.awesomedude.com. Updates to this
story can be found on all of these sites as they are written.)

They call it "R-SALT," but in reality it is the Riverton School for
Alternative Lifestyle Teens. But, of course, R-SALT rolls off the tongue a
whole lot easier. The other name just tried to hide what the new school
was. It's a school for gay kids. Built after what had come to be known as
"The Lorenze Incident" around our town, R-SALT was mired in controversy
from the very minute that it was even suggested.

The LGBT community and the straight community alike were divided. Some LGBT
citizens said that it would be a safe haven for the students who otherwise
would be bullied into depression. Others said it would only ostracize
students and it was an excuse to avoid the issue and the teaching of
tolerance in the school system. The straight community argued that it was
unfair to build us a school while the other kids were stuck in
centuries-old Riverton High. Others were willing to pay extra tax dollars
to get the fags away from their precious "normal" sons and daughters.

My name is Liam Vale and, yes, I am gay. But it's not my fault that I had
to go to R-SALT in the first place. I was completely and perfectly happy
being in the closet, having nobody know that I was gay, and staying at my
old school. I would much rather have stayed there with all my friends than
uproot my entire school and social system in order to move into a school
that I knew next to nothing about. Helen Veltry changed all that for me,
though.

I was walking out of my first-hour geometry class when I bumped into
another student. Since I was looking down, I looked up slowly and saw a
tall, rather muscular guy standing in my way. Tan with dark hair and pretty
brown eyes; he was easy to look at to say the least. I stared a bit longer
than I should have, lost in a trance, before I heard a shrill voice. "Take
a picture, fag. It'll last longer." It was then that I noticed Helen
standing right next to the attractive boy. Since I had Health with her
third hour, I was more than used to hearing anti-homosexual garbage coming
from her mouth on an almost daily basis, not to mention the numerous other
times I had heard it around the small town that I lived in. I shrugged the
comment off and walked on, not really paying attention to her.

Second hour, I had Band in which I played the Oboe. I was the only Oboe in
either band and, due to it's reputation as the least masculine instrument
this side of the flute, I had taken a lot of teasing and bullying over
that. I never really cared though. I didn't play music to impress other
people. I played music because it was something that I loved. In music,
everybody is equal. Age, race, sexuality, and personal lives all get thrown
out the window when you listen to or play music. Nobody thinks "oh, this
guy is good at that instrument for a gay kid." Music, for me, has always
been a way to forget all my worries and troubles. When I sit in the middle
of a good band and am able to play music with the rest of them, it's a
bonding experience. My notes connect with the notes of others, creating
beautiful chords that weave into tapestries of amazing sound. It's almost
like our souls reach out and connect to each other. Without saying a word
or making any signs to each other, we know what to play, how to play it,
and what to do. It truly is an amazing experience the likes of which I
can't explain.

Third hour was always a completely different story, though. I had Health
with some of the most obnoxious, annoying, assholes in the history of high
school. "Hey, that's the fag that was checking out my boyfriend this
morning," I heard Helen say to her friends as I walked into the room. I
looked around hopefully, but the teacher had yet to arrive. I just took my
seat, as far away from her as I could, and waited for my friends to sit
with me. They took their seats, and I quickly lost myself in conversation
with them.

Throughout class, I heard the occasional snicker from the other side of the
room as I'm sure a not-so-subtle joke was made about me. I ignored them,
though, as I tried to pay attention to the notes that were being presented
to me. I never told any of my friends what happened, though. I didn't want
them knowing that I was gay.

After class, I left as quickly as possible to beat the lunch rush. It was a
proven strategy that worked almost every day. That day, however, was
different from any other day I had before, or would have since. "Fag, where
ya going?" I heard the screeching voice of Helen call out over the bustling
crowd. I just ignored her, until I felt a pencil scrape against the skin
just above my ear as it was hurled at the side of my head.

I turned to my left and saw Helen sneering at me from the crowd. "What the
hell is your problem?" I yelled at her.

"Don't be talking to my girl like that!" her boyfriend growled at me as he
stepped out of the crowd next to her.

"Then tell the bitch to back off of me," I said boldly. He pushed me
against the wall, and I grunted. I was never one for fighting, but I sure
knew how to defend myself. He punched towards my head, and I moved out of
the way before grabbing his other arm and wrenching it behind his back and
slamming him into the wall.

The principal was pulling me off of him within seconds, demanding
answers. "He tried to attack me," I told him, but none of the other
students would back me up. We were taken to the office separately and both
told that we were both to be suspended. When I told the principal about
Helen calling me a fag and that that's what the whole situation stemmed
from, he told me that I was still suspended for a week and that he would be
giving my father a call.

That call, as a matter of fact, came the very next day. Dad was already in
a bad mood when I told him that I was suspended. He didn't blame me for
defending myself when I was attacked, but he told me that I shouldn't have
argued with Helen. Ever since I had come out to him, shortly after Mom
passed away, he told me to keep it secret from school. "I don't have a
problem with it," he had told me seriously. "But we don't exactly live in a
gay-friendly town. People aren't going to be nearly as accepting of your
lifestyle as I am." So, when the call came and my principal suggested to
him that I go to the alternative school, he was not for it at all.

"Your principal just called me," he told me as I walked into the kitchen.

"What did he say? Can I go back to school tomorrow?" I asked hopefully. I
could tell by his face, however, that that wasn't the case.

"He suggested that you go to the other high school."

"The...the gay school?" I had heard of R-SALT being built over the summer
after what happened to Gabe Lorenze, and had known a few guys before they
had gone to it, but had heard nothing of it from them since they went.

"Yeah," he nodded. "But it's not like you have to go or anything. I don't
think that it's a good idea for you to label yourself that way until you
really know for sure."

I rolled my eyes. It was a long-standing argument between the two of
us. "Dad, I promise you, I am a homosexual. There is no doubt about it."

"You can't say that, Liam. You're only fifteen!"

"Dad, why are you fighting this so much?" I asked him. "Is it so bad that
you have a gay son? Would you rather me be a murderer or a rapist? As long
as I'm raping girls, right?"

Dad glared at me, and I instantly knew that I had gone too far. Ever since
we lost Mom four months ago, my relationship with Dad had been strained to
say the least. It looked like we were about to launch into another one of
our infamous arguments.

"Liam, you know that is not what this is about. I don't care that you're
one of them. It's the fact that you have to broadcast it to everybody you
know that worries me."

"One of them?" I asked standing up. "What do you mean by that, Dad?"

"You know exactly what I meant. I didn't want to offend you."

"Well, I didn't know you were one of them."

"I am your father, and you have no right to talk to me like that."

"Stop being such a dictator," I told him. "You're not this...god that you
think you are! You're not any more in control of things than I am. I
shouldn't have to hide who I am just because of the way that people think
of it. And, for the record, I haven't been acting any differently now than
I did before I came out."

"The way you talk, the way you walk, the way you act, it's all become
so...gay," he said to me.

"What are you talking about dad?" I asked. "I haven't changed at all since
I came out to you. Maybe you notice it more, but that's only because you're
turning into a homophobic ass!"

"Liam, you stop talking like that this instant," he growled at me. "I am
not homophobic. Maybe I'm not as young as you are, and a bit stuck in my
ways, but I'm trying to change. I'm trying to do right by you and Brandon
and make you boys happy."

"Dad, I'm tired of fighting with you." I took deep breaths between almost
each and every word.

"I'm tired of fighting too," he said calming down slowly.

"If you don't want me to go to R-SALT, I guess I'll stay at Riverton
High. But I can't take back the things I said, even if I wanted to. And I'm
not going to change for any of them."

"Would you rather change schools?" he asked.

"I don't know dad. I think it would be a lot easier for me to get along
with people and concentrate on my grades and work."

"Well we need to make the decision by tomorrow afternoon," he told me.

"I'll give you my decision at dinner tonight," I told him before leaving
the room.

That night at dinner my dad and I had dinner with my 4-year-old little
brother Brandon. He was completely absorbed in his chicken and potatoes,
and didn't pay us any attention as we talked. "So you're really sure you
want to go to the new school?" my dad asked me.

I nodded. "Yeah, dad. I'm tired of those other people. And I don't think
I'll have as many problems at R-SALT."

"You know you're leaving all your friends behind?"

"They're still in town," I reminded him. "We can still hang out and see
each other."

"But will they want to once they know you're gay?"

I shrugged. "If they don't, then I don't really care about what they
think."

"Those who mind don't matter,"

"and those who matter don't mind," I finished the quote. "Quoting Doctor
Seuss to a high school student?" I asked him.

"I like Doctor Suess," Brandon interjected. "Me and daddy are working on
cat in a hat."

The next day, Dad called my principal and told him our decision. Dad said
he sounded relieved, but I don't know why he would care that much. He told
Dad that my schedule would be sent over to R-SALT, and replicated with as
much accuracy as it could be. I received my schedule a few days later on
Saturday, and was told that I was to start at my new school on Monday.

I felt strange getting on the bus that Monday morning. It was a new bus
full of new people, most of whom I had never seen before. I wondered what
they saw when they looked at me. I didn't think I was anything
special. Short brown hair and green eyes, I was average height at about
five-foot-ten and had a non-impressive build. The only thing that could
possibly be considered unusual about me was that I had glasses, being
unable to switch to contacts due to something that was messed up in my
eyes, which I never fully understood.

I took a seat a few rows back, by a very attractive boy with medium-length
auburn hair, who was looking out the window. "Hi," I said in what I hoped
to be a cheerful tone. "I'm Liam." The boy didn't reply. 'Well, that's
rude,' I thought to myself before seeing him pull out an mp3 player. He
pressed a button and quickly put it back into his pocket. I noticed then a
class ring on his finger. He was likely a junior, or maybe even a senior. I
also spotted a wire trailing from that pocket up to his ears. He likely
didn't hear me.

He stared out the window until we pulled into the school parking lot, where
everybody scrambled off the bus as quickly as they could. I was the last
one off the bus, following after the boy who I had failed to start a
conversation with. I pulled the school map out of the side pocket on my
backpack and made my way through the crowd and into the front of the large,
newly-constructed building.

The first thing I saw was two boys making out with each other against one
wall of the foyer. The boy against the wall wrapped one of his legs around
the aggressor's as their kissing reached a new fever. An older female came
over quickly and told the two boys to "knock it off."

"Excuse me," I said as I approached her. She looked like she would know her
way around the school, as she apparently worked there.

"Yes, can I help you?"

"Do you know the way to room number 45?" I asked.

"Well I should hope so, seeing as how I'm the principal." She extended her
round hand to me with a kind smile. "Mrs. Stone, at your service." I shook
her hand awkwardly. "I assume you're our new student?"

I nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Liam Vale."

"Liam?" one of the kissing boys asked. His head poked out around that of
his attacker's, and I immediately recognized the face. He hadn't seemed to
grow as much as you would expect after not seeing somebody for seven
years. His face was still slightly rounded, and framed by long, dark
hair. It fell over one of his eyes and he brushed it back, revealing the
bright green orbs that I remembered from my early childhood. He was fairly
short for our age, and about as thin as you could be while still being in a
healthy weight range.

"Jake? Jake Westwick?"

The raven-haired boy grinned as he stepped away from the one in the
backwards cap and embraced me with surprising endearment. "I didn't expect
to find you here," I told him. "Didn't you move to Birmingham?"

"Yeah," he said, pulling out of the hug after a few awkward moments. "I
still live there. Dad still has his job and whatnot, but I come here so
that I can go to school."

"That's quite a bit of a drive so that you can come to this school."

"Oh, I don't drive all the way from Birmingham, silly," he responded,
touching my chest as he said it. "I live with Tommy and go back up there
for weekends."

"Who's Tommy?" I asked confused, and the muscular boy with whom Jake was
making out approached me. He was definitely a looker, almost the exact
opposite of Jake. Tall and muscular, with short brown hair and brown eyes,
he was one of the more attractive boys I had seen in a while.

"Tommy Reynolds," he said, offering his hand to shake. I did, and
immediately noticed how strong his grip was.

"Do you want to know where that room is?" Mrs. Stone asked me, somewhat
impatiently.

"It's ok," Jake responded for me. "I can show him where it is."

She looked at me, and I nodded. She walked off, apparently happy so long as
I was getting to my class. "So what's new since third grade?" I asked
Jake. We had some time to kill before first hour would begin, and I needed
to catch up with an old friend.

"Well, obviously, I'm gay now."

I laughed at that and smiled. "I never woulda figured by the way Tommy's
tongue was halfway down your throat."

"Jealous?" he teased.

"Oh, definitely," I sarcastically responded.

"So you're gay too, huh?" I nodded my confirmation. "Not everyone here's
gay, ya know. Tommy boy here is only bi, as a matter of fact. He coulda
stayed at the other school, he's so tough," the slightly effeminate boy
cooed.

"Why didn't you?" I asked.

"Easier to get on sports teams here," he responded with a chuckle. His
voice was octaves deeper than Jake's. While Jake still sounded almost like
a child, Tommy was definitely closer to being a man.

"So what's it like here?" I asked the two.

"It's really not all that different from a regular school," Jake told
me. "Classes are smaller, guys are hotter, and you can do things like me
and Tommy were, but that's about it."

"It doesn't feel like I expected it to," I told him. As I looked around,
the population of the school wasn't all that different from that which I
was used to. There were a few obviously gay males thrown in, and a couple
of girls with crew cuts, but it was hardly the pride festival that I was
expecting. There were still your obvious groups of jocks, rednecks, punk
kids, etc.

"What did you expect, to walk in and be attacked by Chippendale's dancers
who rip your clothes off and have their way with you?"

"It would have been a nice change of pace," I admitted before turning a
nice shade of crimson. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that."

"Relax, kid," Tommy laughed. "It's all good here."

The bell rang, and Jake kissed Tommy quickly on the mouth. "That's our
signal that I need to get your ass to class," he told me. "I'll see you at
lunch babe."

Tommy walked off, and Jake unashamedly hooked his arm in mine. "So what
class do you have first?" he asked brightly.

"Uh, it's...geometry in room 45." I was taken aback by Jake. This wasn't
the boy I remembered leaving in third grade to move to the big city. Back
then we hardly ever touched. Sure, he'd spent the night at my house a few
times, and I at his, but I don't even remember us hugging before he
left. Now he didn't even think twice before touching me.

"Ugh, Thompson," the thin boy grunted. "I don't have a very high opinion of
him."

"Why not?" I asked as we walked.

"He called me a slut once. Not that it's not true, but I don't need
teachers saying it."

I blushed slightly as we walked until we got to room number 45. "Okay, here
we are. If you need any more help, just let me know." He stood on his
tip-toes to kiss my cheek before quickly scampering off through the crowd
without providing me a way to "just let him know" if I needed any more
help.

I touched my cheek where he kissed me, and walked into the class. "Ah, you
must be Mr. Vale," an older male said as soon as I entered the room. He was
a portly man, with a mustache that made him look quite a bit like a walrus.

"Yes, sir," I responded with a smile. "I hope I haven't missed much in the
class."

"We were just covering the pythagorean theorom," he informed me. "Here's
your book."

I took the book and walked to the seat where he directed me, next to a
blonde boy with thick-rimmed glasses. "Hey," he said brightly. "I'm
Landon. Can you banter with me for a few minutes?"

"I, uh...what?"

He used the pen in his left hand to point at the notebook folded open on
his desk before him. "I need to get some practice with witty banter to make
my characters more believable."

"I kinda need to pay attention to the teacher," I told him awkwardly.

"Stickler for the rules, eh?" he had an extremely fast way of talking,
forcing me to take a few seconds to analyze his last sentence before I was
able to reply.

"I just don't wanna fail all my new classes."

"Don't worry. You couldn't fail Thompson's class if you smacked him in the
face with a fish."

"Is that something people do often?"

"Only in my dreams."

"I'm Liam, by the way."

"Ah, fresh meat," he replied with a grin. "Welcome to R-SALT after your
assault."