Uncaged
By Wes
Leigh featuring the contributions of Rob the Scribe
This is a work of fiction intended
solely for the entertainment of our readers; any resemblance to any real people
or places is purely coincidental. Readers who would like to chat are encouraged
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robthescribe@protonmail.com.
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"Are you gay?"
Always before, it had been rude names thrown out with casual disregard. RJ had
been able to ignore those. But this was different. It wasn't hatred or mockery
but rather curiosity that prompted the question this time. A few of the bolder
kids had asked the same question, but he'd ignored them, turning away and
refusing to answer. Not once had he even considered telling the truth, until
finally it became too much.
It was Ricky, a boy he barely knew, who asked. In the middle of history class.
Completely out of thin air. "Are you gay?"
Before RJ even thought about it, he heard himself
say, "Yes, I am. So what?"
Silence fell in the class. Every eye focused on RJ.
RJ slid into his seat and closed his eyes. `What was I thinking?' he asked
himself. `I know what's going to happen now.'
And yet, somehow, it was just what needed to be said. Why should he hide from
them? What the hell was so damned wrong with him? He loved boys. Was that an
act worthy of punishment?
Between third and fourth period, RJ walked to his locker to swap out his books.
He just wanted to be left alone. That was all he wanted. But as soon as he opened
the locker door, he heard the sneering voices to one side. They weren't trying
to be quiet; they wanted to be overheard.
"Would you like to get your ass fucked?"
"Hell no! That's disgusting."
"I agree, man. That's just sick. The guy is just sick."
RJ knew it was about him. There was nothing he could do about it. That was how
they would see him from now on. He was sick. Sick for admitting his feelings.
Sick because he didn't want to hide anymore. Sick because that was how he was
born.
He went to the next class with a heavy heart. Even as he put one foot in front
of the other, anxious thoughts about what was to come weighed him down. His
imagination filled him with dread, and unfortunately, his imagination was not
disappointed. When he entered the room, there was a huge uproar in the class.
Almost immediately he realized why. Someone had written "ROBIN IS
GAY!" on the whiteboard in huge letters.
He tried to ignore it, but he didn't succeed. How could you ignore something
like that? It said it right there. In front of him. Mocking him.
He thought about reacting in some way, but decided against it. The insecurity,
the shame had given way to a form of defiance.
What did it matter what they thought? Who cared?
But deep inside, RJ cared. As much as he didn't want to admit it to himself, he
cared deeply about the opinion of others, no matter how bad that opinion might
be.
At the end of the day, he walked across the school courtyard with his eyes on
the bricks in front of him. It had been the longest day of his life.
It hadn't taken long for word to get around.
No time had been wasted. Was there a student who didn't know? He couldn't
imagine a single one who hadn't heard. Everyone looked at him. They didn't
bother looking away if he caught their eye.
Stephen and his gang walked in front of RJ, forcing him to stop and look up at
them.
"Gay pig," Stephen snarled.
"Ass fucker," Toby said, sneering.
"Cock sucker," added Justin.
With every new verbal attack, a part of RJ seemed to die. It hurt. It hurt more
than any slap in the face could have.
RJ clutched his backpack tight against his
stomach and walked around them. All he wanted was to get on the bus and to go
home.
He hated their words, but he decided to
embrace those words. Words hurt like hell, but denying yourself hurt a whole
lot more. From that moment on, he was determined to no longer pretend, no
longer hide.
͠ ͠ ͠
The next morning, Erin Masters poured herself a cup of
coffee in the teacher lounge, trying her best to ignore the rampant gossip. One
of the eighth-grade boys—she had a very good idea which one—had outed himself
to the rest of the students. It happened every year, and it always made their
job harder.
The school's official position was that all forms of
bullying and harassment were strictly prohibited. That was laughable. The kids
weren't stupid. They didn't make their snide comments when teachers were around,
so they were never caught. It was all done in secret, except for the very public
humiliation of that message written on the whiteboard in Jane Matthews'
classroom. Jane claimed she was in her storeroom at the time, looking for
supplies, but the woman was known for her hateful bigotry, so Erin wouldn't
have been surprised to find that Jane had deliberately stepped out of the class
long enough for the disgusting deed to be done.
Erin didn't know what to do. Was there really anything she
could do? Except pretend that nothing had changed and hope against hope that
the young boy she'd been encouraging every day hadn't been crushed by the
events of the day before.
`Was there some way to reach out to him?' Erin asked
herself. Some way to let him know it would get better one day, despite how
hopeless it might seem at the moment. She still remembered that desperation
that seemed to swallow you up the day after you shared such a devastating
secret.
She'd been older, almost sixteen, when she told a
particularly persistent teenage boy that he wasn't going to get anywhere with
her because she didn't like boys. The problem wasn't so much how grabby he was
being, but that he reminded her of her father, especially when he was drunk and
came into her room and touched her in the same way. It wasn't the boy's fault
that he reminded her of her father, but it was his fault that he wouldn't
listen no matter how many times she told him to stop.
The boy had stared at her, momentarily confused, then
wrinkled his brow as he realized what she was saying. "You're a dyke?" he had
asked.
That question had infuriated her even more, almost as much
as his roving hands. "No," she had snapped. "I'm a lesbian. Now let me go."
From that moment on, her life had been both easier and
tougher. Easier, because the boys had quit hitting on her. Tougher, because the
girls had tried their best to make her miserable.
Erin sighed. Things hadn't changed. Not in the least. Despite
all the talk, all the parades, all the politicians making empty promises,
people were still the same. Still hateful. Still mean and ugly. Poor RJ. What
could she say to help him through this?
It really wasn't a surprise that he had come out to the
other kids. She'd expected it. After reading his essay on the tightrope walker,
her heart had gone out to him. It would have been better if he had waited until
he was a little older, but he was such an intelligent young man, it was bound
to happen sooner rather than later.
Well, it was done now. And Erin Masters was going to do
everything in her power to support and encourage RJ. If only the other teachers
felt the same ...
͠ ͠ ͠
Mickey was miserable because RJ was miserable. They stood next
to each other, waiting for the bus, staring straight ahead, not saying a word.
One of the girls sneered at them when they got on the bus,
but Mickey glared at her until she huffed and looked away. Mickey wasn't going
to abandon his friend, not now, not when he needed him the most, no matter what
anyone said about him sitting next to a gay boy.
RJ slid into a seat. Mickey sat beside him, nudging RJ to
move over a little more. RJ scooted against the window, looking at Mickey
slightly surprised. Mickey gave him an embarrassed smile. They both stared out
the window as the bus began moving again.
Mickey knew it would be bad. It was what he'd tried so hard
to tell RJ without actually saying it. And now Mickey could only sit next to
RJ, making it clear with his continued presence that he wasn't rejecting his
friend, even if everyone else did.
RJ knew what Mickey was doing, and he appreciated it. He
wished there was some way he tell Mickey how grateful
he was, but RJ was paralyzed with fear. Even a simple hug would be taken the
wrong way by all the watching eyes. There was nothing he could do about it, so
he accepted Mickey's quiet support and hoped his friend knew how much it meant
to him.
When they reached the school, they parted at the front
entrance. Mickey turned left, headed for his homeroom. "See you in Math," he
said, over one shoulder.
"Yeah," RJ replied. "See you." RJ paused and called, "Umm,
Mickey."
Mickey turned around, eyes silently questioning.
RJ gave Mickey a sad smile and said, "Thanks."
Mickey nodded. "You're my friend," he replied. And that was
all that needed to be said.
͠ ͠ ͠
As RJ walked down the halls, he played a game in his mind. He
pictured Angelus, the powerful being in his story, walking behind him. Every
time the other kids gave him a nasty look, RJ imagined Angelus lifting his hand
and sending a beam of light to strike them, blinding their hateful eyes. When
they whispered a rude comment, Angelus would pull his sword and slice out their
tongues, leaving them mumbling in the halls. If any of them tried to touch him,
Angelus would lift him up in his powerful arms and carry him far, far away,
where they would no longer be bothered by these cruel humans who could never
understand love.
Angelus understood. He would take RJ in his arms and hold
him, kissing him gently, telling him he was adored and wanted. Those strong
arms would protect him. Those powerful legs would carry him to safety. Those
pale blue eyes would stare into his own, silently confirming what RJ suspected
all along, that Angelus truly loved him.
It didn't matter what these other foolish mortals thought. They
were nothing. Their opinions were dry dust. Their words were hollow notes in a
forgotten song.
His face gradually brightened, and he was actually smiling
when he walked into his homeroom class and sat down at his desk.
The other students glanced at him, confused and struggling
to understand why he seemed so happy this morning. It didn't make sense. RJ was
so weird.
͠ ͠ ͠
Coming out of the restroom after third period, RJ suddenly
found himself surrounded by Stephen McDermott and his gang of
jerks. RJ studied them carefully. Surrounding each of the boys was a dark aura,
filled with grasping shadows. He shuddered, suddenly chilled.
"Your restroom is over there," Stephen
growled, pointing across the hall to the girl's restroom.
The other boys snickered. "Good one,
Stephen," said Toby.
RJ pictured Angelus swooping down and
grabbing the ninth graders in his strong hands, yanking them off their feet and
throwing them down the hallway. He stared at Stephen and said, "Get out of my
way."
Stephen's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "What
the fuck did you say?" he asked.
"Move. You're in my way," RJ said.
"Ooooh, better do
what he says, Stephen," Justin warned. "He might hit you with his purse." Justin
tugged on RJ's backpack, causing it to slide down off RJ's shoulder.
"Is there a problem here?" Erin Masters
asked, coming around the corner.
The boys quickly stepped back. "No, ma'am,"
Stephen replied. "We were just using the restroom."
"Then I suggest you hurry up," Erin replied,
checking her watch. "The tardy bell rings in three minutes."
Stephen and his friends squeezed around RJ
into the boy's restroom. RJ watched them go inside, then turned to Erin Masters
and smiled. She wasn't Angelus, but he was still glad to see her. "Hello, Ms.
Masters. Did you finish reading my essay for the contest?"
"I did. It was astonishingly good, RJ, but
pretty much what I've come to expect from the best writer in school."
His face lit up. "Really? You liked it?"
"RJ, it was a fantastic essay. The problem
is going to be convincing the judges that an eighth grader wrote it, but I'll
let them know it came from an amazing student, the best I've ever taught."
RJ's heart pounded in his chest. He wanted
to hug Ms. Masters, but that wasn't allowed, so he settled for giving her the
biggest smile he could.
"Shouldn't you be headed for your next
class?" she asked, pleased to see RJ's happy expression.
"Yes, ma'am," RJ replied, turning and waving
as he headed down the hall.
Erin watched him go. His smile had been
precious, bringing joy to her heart, for a moment. She moved to the other side
of the hall and waited for Stephen McDermott and the other boys to come out of
the restroom. They saw her watching them from the other side of the hallway. She
wasn't smiling now. They gulped and hurried down the hall, avoiding her icy
stare.
͠ ͠ ͠
As the boys left the locker room and headed out into the
gym, they realized they wouldn't be going outside today. It was overcast with a
threat of a Spring thunderstorm, so their PE teacher had decided to keep them
inside to play dodgeball. He divided the class up into two teams and sent them
to opposite sides of the gym, then positioned three large balls along the
center stripe. When he blew his whistle, boys charged the center line to grab
the balls and the game was on.
Mickey loved dodgeball. He was short and fast and hard to
hit. And despite his small size, he could launch the ball with deadly accuracy
at the other team.
RJ hated dodgeball. He couldn't throw hard enough to get
anyone out. He certainly couldn't catch the ball either. In almost every game,
he was one of the first players eliminated, so he spent most of the game
sitting on the sidelines, daydreaming as he watched Mickey dodging, weaving,
and launching counterattacks.
The first game was no different from every game of dodgeball
RJ had played in the past. He was eliminated in the first minute of play. But
there was one change. It seemed the players on the other team were ganging up
on him. They waited until they had all three balls, then targeted RJ
specifically, throwing all the balls at him at the same time, aiming for his
face and groin.
RJ was pummeled by the balls, taking one to the shoulder,
one to the stomach, and one in the groin. The teacher saw, but said nothing. He
blew his whistle and pointed at RJ, indicating he was out of the game.
As RJ walked to the sideline, one of the boys on the other
team threw a ball that hit him, unexpectedly, in the side of the face.
"Hey!" Mickey shouted, rushing the other boy.
The teacher blew his whistle and yelled, "Back on your side,
Mickey. Toby, you're out for the rest of this game and the next one too. You
know better than to throw a ball at a player who has been eliminated."
Toby complained, "Come on, Coach. I didn't know he was out!"
The teacher shook his head and pointed at the sidelines. "Take
a seat, Brewer. MacMahon, you're back in the game."
RJ sighed, turned around and walked back to the rest of the
boys still playing. Mickey walked up to RJ, concern in his eyes.
"You okay?" he asked. RJ was
surprised to see a golden aura surrounding Mickey's body.
RJ touched the side of his face where the ball had hit him. It
stung. "Yeah. I'm fine."
"Stand behind me," Mickey said. And for the next five
minutes, Mickey kept RJ in the game, until a ball neither one of them saw
caught RJ in the hip, knocking him out of the game again. It was almost with
relief that RJ scurried to the sideline and watched as Mickey almost
single-handedly won the game for their team.
The next game went much the same. RJ wasn't an asset to his
team, though he tried, but Mickey kept him in the game much longer than he
usually lasted.
Finally, the teacher blew his whistle in a long, loud blast.
"Hit the showers."
The boys trotted into the locker room, stripped down and
headed into the shower room. There were five shower heads along each wall. Mickey
took one. RJ took the one next to him. The rest of the class took the shower
heads on the opposite side of the room, doubling up and tripling up in one
case, simply to avoid being on the same side of the room as RJ and Mickey. The
other boys showered quickly, rushing to clean up and get out again.
Mickey saw what they were doing and turned to smile at RJ. RJ
grinned back, shrugging his shoulders to show he didn't care.
Mickey snickered and whispered, "Morons!"
Then they both started giggling uncontrollably.
͠ ͠ ͠
The day was finally over. After his last class, RJ headed for
his locker to put his books away. With his backpack now mostly empty, he swung
it over one shoulder and hustled down the hallway, headed for the front
entrance. As he turned a corner, he tripped over something. Unable to catch his
balance, he fell forward, breaking his fall with his outstretched arms. He saw
feet next to his face and looked up to see Stephen
McDermott, Jake and Justin Collins, and Toby Brewer standing nearby.
Stephen grabbed RJ's arm and lifted the
smaller boy to his feet. Stephen began dusting RJ off, aggressively slapping at
RJ's clothes and knocking RJ in the balls as he pretended to brush the dirt
from RJ's pants. RJ grimaced and pulled back, covering his groin with both
hands.
Stephen leaned in and hissed. "You really
should be more careful. The teachers can't watch out for you everywhere
you go. Your little buddy, Mickey, can't be with you every minute of the day. Someday
you'll be alone. You'll be somewhere no one can watch over you. And then your
faggot ass is mine."
The end of UNCAGED, Chapter Six