It was a fearful Jake who school that Monday with a resolute Jeremy closely at his side. Mrs. Andersen drove them, and it had been arranged that she would pick them both up after school; she’d have the car waiting at the same spot she’d dropped them off, a spot where she could see the school door as they came through it. She watched as they left the car and strode quickly up the walk to the school, walking so close together their arms were brushing.
She watched, still not sure that what they’d decided over the weekend was the right thing. She remembered how frantic she’d been that night, how she’d run out of the station, past the screener who’d been apologetically explaining he’d been so caught up in what Jake had been saying, caught up in the drama of it all, he’d not cut her off when she’d yelled out his name. She remembered being so frustrated driving home, not able to reach him on the phone, wondering what he was feeling.
She’d tried to talk to Jake when she got home from the radio station, and recalled her annoyance that Jeremy had stayed there with him even though she’d been pretty forceful in telling him to go home. Jake hadn’t let him. Jake had not said much, but every time she’d tried to shoo Jeremy out, Jake had grabbed him, held on and said no, and she’d finally seen the state he was in and thought it best not to push the issue. Jeremy knew everything anyway. Everyone knew everything now, and it was because of what she’d done!
She’d tried to get answers out of Jake, but he’d been almost nonresponsive, and then she’d seen what he really needed was sleep. He’d agreed to that, and when Jeremy had stood up, Jake had grabbed him again, and Jeremy had agreed to stay with him. She’d begun to see Jeremy differently then. She’d begun feeling thankful that he was there. She’d seen Jake needed him.
They’d talked on Saturday and Sunday. Jake had been adamant that he not return to school. She’d known it was important that he go back. Surprisingly, Jeremy had felt the same way, for the same reason. He’d told Jake that the first day would be the worst, that he’d stay with him as much as possible, and once they got past that, things would calm down. He’d agreed when she said Jake couldn’t run away from this. That’s what had finally swayed Jake.
Then they’d argued about something else. She’d wanted to talk to the principal before he went back. Jeremy had thought that might be a good idea, but Jake had said if she did that, he simply wasn’t going, no matter what she said. He’d said the principal couldn’t do anything other than assigning someone to be with him, a babysitter, or making an announcement of some sort for everyone to leave him alone, and either of those things would make him look much worse to all the other kids. He’d said if he had to go, he’d go and hang with Jeremy as much as possible, but he still didn’t want to go at all.
In the end, they’d compromised. He was going to go today, and see how it was. After he got through that, if it wasn’t too bad, he’d keep going. If it was too bad, she’d find another school for him.
So he’d gotten in the car this morning. No fighting it, he’d just got in. He’d been quiet, and when they’d got to Jeremy’s house and he’d come out, Jake had got in the back seat with him, and sat real close. All the way to school, when she’d looked in the rear view mirror, she’d been able to see his face. She’d seen the fear in his eyes. She’d almost relented, but then they’d arrived, and he’d got out without saying a word.
She watched them walk up the walk. As Jake and Jeremy were noticed, kids pointed at them and made comments she couldn’t hear, and some kids on the periphery raised their heads, saw what was happening and started hurrying closer. Jake and Jeremy didn’t acknowledge any of the remarks that were made or the catcalls; they simply kept walking toward the school doors, not speeding up, but not slowing down, either.
As she watched, she saw one boy stand out from the rest, step out onto the sidewalk in front of them, moving so he’d be directly in their path. He had a grin on his face, and he was talking. As the two boys got closer to him, she saw him start making a pounding hand gesture, his hand at his crotch, and his talking seemed to get more animated, more raucous, from the expression on his face and the laughter she saw from the other kids around him. Jake and Jeremy were approaching, and then were before him. He didn’t move out of their way, and they would have had to stop except that Jeremy stepped forward, in front of Jake, and without uttering a word shoved the boy aside, using both hands and pushing hard. The boy stumbled backwards, and then Jake and Jeremy were past him.
They reached the doors, Jeremy opened them, and Mrs. Andersen lost sight of them as they entered the school.
~ [] ~
Jake slipped out of his backpack, emptied it and dropped it on the floor in front of his locker. He checked his watch and saw he had ten minutes before he needed to be in his homeroom. He found the books he needed for his first two classes and his notebook, put them in the backpack, then shut the locker door. Jeremy was still there, his back to him as he watched the other kids walking through the hallway.
After closing his locker, Jake just stood, looking at the closed door, not turning around. Jeremy finally twisted to look at him.
“Hey, Jake? You okay?”
Without turning, Jake said in a small voice, “You want the truth? No, I’m not. I hate this. I’m scared. I don’t know if I can do this.”
Jeremy sighed inwardly. “Come on, Jake,” he said. “We talked about this all day yesterday. You’ve got to, and it won’t be as bad as you think. Today’s going to be tough, and then everyone will have said what they have to say, they’ll have seen you take it and come back for more tomorrow, and it’ll ease up. It’s just today that’ll be the worst, and you’ve got to get through it. Come on, let’s walk to your homeroom. I need to get to mine.”
Jake tried a tentative smile that came out looking a little sickly. He did look scared, and Jeremy felt his heart sinking. He raised his hand and socked Jake’s shoulder softly, then said encouragingly, “Come on, let’s do this.”
The hall was full of kids at their lockers, kids talking to each other, the usual noise of the hallway before classes. Some were looking at Jake and Jeremy as they walked together. Some made comments, mostly after they’d passed by, but the remarks were easy to ignore in the overall din. Jake was firmly focused on the doorway to his homeroom up ahead.
When they came to the doorway, Jeremy reached up and tapped Jake’s shoulder again. “You can do this, Jake. Just like we said. You’ll get to your first class with no problems since it’s just across the hall and a couple of doors down, and I’ll meet you after that to walk to your second period. Wait for me just inside the classroom and I’ll be there as quickly as I can. Okay?”
“Yeah, I guess. If I’m still alive after homeroom and first period.”
“Good one. Glad to see you still have your sense of humor.”
Jeremy smiled and walked away. Jake said to his retreating back, “Yeah, but I wasn’t kidding.”
He walked into homeroom. They had assigned seats so the teacher could take roll simply by looking at empty desks. Jake’s place was over near the windows toward the back. The room was half full when he walked in, and within seconds, it had become silent. Jake looked up, and every kid in the room was looking at him.
His eyes fell back to the floor as he walked to his desk. He got there, dropped his backpack on the floor, then looked down. There was a large sheet of paper on the desktop on which had been written with a wide-tipped black marker, “Go home, Fag. Nobody wants you here. Go home and jack off some more, you fucking faggot.”
There was no signature. Jake stared at it, then, with more strength than he thought he had, slowly raised his eyes and looked at the still silent kids, all of whom were still staring at him.
He could see all sorts of expressions on their faces. Some looked eagerly anticipatory, like they’d just come into a theater and were waiting for the curtain to rise on what promised to be a great show. Some looked angry. Some were curious and holding back. A couple of boys were laughing. The girls had just as wide a variety of expressions as the boys, some disgusted, some confused, most simply curious.
No one said anything. Jake let his eyes cover the room, and realized while doing so that this could be a lot worse. No one was verbally challenging him. No one was physically attacking him. Had an entire chorus of boys started jeering at him, or worse, he wasn’t sure what he could have done other than sat down and ignored the shouting, or tried to defend himself if it were physical. He knew how effective he’d be doing that. Not! The fact no one was saying anything seemed hopeful to him.
He looked down at the paper again, then slid into his chair. He picked up the message, folded it four times, then reached down and put it in his backpack.
At that point Mrs. Hoskins came into the room, and the other kids all found their places. The room remained unusually quiet.
She looked around, making eye contact with everyone, glancing just a bit longer at Jake than the others. Then she picked up her attendance chart, noted the absences, and put it back down very precisely on her desk, taking her time, composing her thoughts. She looked back up, scanned the room, and said, “I like the behavior in here this morning. Nice and quiet. Very good. I hope your behavior the rest of the day remains the same, very calm and collected. Good behavior and politeness makes everything so much easier for everyone.”
She then read off the morning announcements. After doing that and glancing at the clock, she said, “All right, the bell’s going to ring shortly. Just a reminder again to behave. And Jake, please see me before you leave. The rest of you—”
The bell rang and her final words were interrupted in the chaos of everyone getting up and making their way to the door.
Jake sat still till the confusion had ended, then looked up and saw Mrs. Hoskins watching him. She was a middle-aged lady who taught government classes. She was not the motherly type, but was a fair teacher if a bit severe who seemed to know what was going on around the school and related to the kids well in a no-nonsense sort of way, and so while she didn’t have the students’ love, she did enjoy their respect. Now, she had her typical stern look on her face. Jake got up and walked to the front of the room to face her.
Atypically, her voice was soft when she said, “Jake, I heard a rumor this morning in the teacher’s lounge. I heard several in fact, and so don’t know what to believe. They all concerned you, however, and all made it sound like you might have a difficult time here for a few days.” She paused, surveying his face. Jake was trying to remain as calm as possible. He was never a demonstrative boy, but in fact one of those who had mastered the art of staying in the background. As small as he was, as retiring in manner, he was easy to just not notice. She hadn’t had him in any of her classes yet, so really didn’t know him well at all. The question in her thoughts now, on talking to him, was, if much of what she had heard was true, would he be able to handle what would be coming his way?
Jake didn’t say anything during her pause, so she continued. “I just wanted to say, if you need someone to talk to, or if you ever need a haven if things get rough, my door’s always open for you, even if I’m in the middle of teaching a class. Please ask me for help if you need it.”
She raised her hand, intending to put it on his arm, but then thought better of it and dropped it. “All right, Jake, that’s all I wanted to say.” She smiled at him. He nodded and left the room.
The hallway wasn’t as crowded as it had been a minute earlier. The teachers monitoring the halls from the doorways of their classrooms were back inside now. Jake didn’t have far to go to get to his first class. He’d taken three steps in that direction when he was pushed sharply from behind.
He stumbled forward, barely avoiding falling down. He turned quickly, and behind him were two large boys he didn’t know. Both were considerably bigger than he was. Of course, almost all the boys at school were bigger than he was.
“Hey, queerboy,” said one of them, his voice excited. “You want to blow me? We could go to the john. You queers love dick, don’t you. I got a good big one for you. Why don’t you come and lick me?”
His partner stepped forward and took hold of Jake’s arm. “Yeah, and I’ll go second. How ‘bout it?”
Jake tried to shake free, but the boy tightened his grip. The first boy looked up and down the hall, then stepped forward and hit Jake in the stomach. The other boy released his arm, and Jake fell to the floor, unable to catch his breath.
“Tomorrow, fag. We’ll do this again tomorrow. See you then.” Then they walked on down the hall, leaving Jake on the floor, high-fiving each other and grinning.
The bell rang. Jake stood up, just then catching his breath. He made it to the classroom, finally able to fully straighten up as he went in.
Mr. Thompson was taking roll. He looked over at Jake and said, “You’re late. What’s the problem?”
Jake said, “Mrs. Hoskins held me after homeroom.”
Mr. Thompson hadn’t had a problem with Jake in the past, and in fact hardly knew his name. He stared at Jake for a moment, then just nodded, and Jake made his way to his seat. Doing so, he passed a boy whose name he knew was Ben. Ben was surreptitiously making jack-off motions with his hand under his desk, grinning evilly at Jake, and as Jake passed him, he stuck out his foot and tripped him.
Jake fell forward, and in doing so bumped his sore stomach hard against the corner of a desk. He couldn’t help himself; as he fell to the floor, tears came to his eyes due to the new sharp pain on top of the former one.
The boy in the desk next to where he fell was named Tyler. He said, “Oh, you slipped. Here, let me help you up,” and grabbed Jake’s arm, giving it a jerk and a twist as he did so, unbalancing Jake. When Jake was mostly up to his feet and being pulled awkwardly sideways, Tyler let go, and Jake fell back to the floor. “Oops!,” said the boy, looking at Jake. “Hope that didn’t hurt at all.” Then he looked apologetically, angelically, at Mr. Thompson.
Jake lay there, not moving, his eyes now full of tears, both from pain and humiliation and the sharp sting of peer rejection.
“Look,” said one of the other boys, glee coloring his voice. “Look at him—he’s crying!”
There was a general upheaval as other kids got up from their desks to look at a 15-year-old lying on the classroom floor crying.
Mr. Thompson had heard nothing of the radio show on Friday night and had come directly to his classroom that morning so had no idea that Jake was an object of interest at the school. He was an experienced teacher, however, and knew boys didn’t trip going down the aisles between desks unless someone caused it. He knew kids didn’t help each other up and then drop them when their feet weren’t quite set unless it was deliberate. And he knew perfectly well what was meant by the sound of delight in the third boy’s voice when he saw Jake was crying.
“Ben! Tyler! Jason! Get up here! Now!”
The three boys looked up, innocence personified, questions on their faces.
“NOW!”
The boys hadn’t heard Mr. Thompson angry before. They did now. They reluctantly stood up and walked to the front of the room, their confidence eroding with each successive step.
“Out in the hall. Let’s go.” He took hold of Tyler’s arm and twisted it abruptly upwards, rather like Tyler had done to Jake, and marched him out the door, Tyler almost on his tiptoes, Ben and Jason meekly following.
Jake lay still for a few moments. There were no other noises in the classroom. He knew he was being watched. He hated the fact he had tears in his eyes. He’d stopped crying now, and the first thing he did was reach up and rub the tears away from his cheeks and eyes. Then, carefully because his stomach was very sore, he gathered himself and stood up.
He didn’t know how to act. He’d always taken pains never to be the center of attention, and being shy meant he found his situation now very disturbing. Without raising his eyes, he made his way to his seat. When he got there, he did raise his head and look around. Everyone was looking at him. He found it impossible to meet their eyes.
He sank into his seat, wincing as his stomach muscles flexed.
The room remained silent, mostly because Mr. Thompson had left the door open and his voice could be heard outside, chewing out the three boys. Eventually, that ended, the boys were sent to the office, and Mr. Thompson returned. He looked over the class, including Jake, who returned his glance, his face showing nothing.
The teacher said, “I don’t know what that was all about, but it will never happen in here again. Will it?”
No one answered, of course, and after a few more moments of just looking at everyone, Mr. Thompson began the lesson. He’d never spoken to such a silent classroom before. He rather enjoyed it.
At the bell, there was the usual noise and rush to get to the next class. Jake waited and was the last one remaining. As he reached the doorway, Mr. Thompson called out to him. “Jake. Is there something I should know about?”
Jake liked Mr. Thompson as much as he liked any of the teachers, but didn’t know him. He looked at him now, saw his concerned smile, knew that his problems were with the other students and neither Mr. Thompson nor any of the other teachers could help with that, and shook his head, not smiling at all himself. He turned, paused a moment, and then left the room.
He looked both ways, and down the hall saw Jeremy walking fast toward him. He waited for him.
“Hey, Jake. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I guess. Two kids punched me in the stomach. Someone else tripped me. Someone twisted my arm and then dropped me onto the floor. The whole class saw me crying. But I guess that’s going to be normal.”
Jeremy was looking at him with wide eyes. “You’re not serious, are you? All that really happened?”
“It happened. But Jeremy, now I have a problem and I don’t know what to do.”
“What’s that?”
“I need to go to the bathroom. But I can’t go in there. If I get punched in the hallway, what will happen in any of the bathrooms? But I need to go.”
Jeremy paused, thinking, then said, “Your next teacher is Mr. Ferguson, right?”
When Jake nodded, Jeremy continued. “He’s okay. I had him last year. Kids get to his class a little late and he never gives them any shit about it. Let’s wait till just before the bell, then hit the restroom. It’ll probably be empty, or maybe just one or two kids, and they shouldn’t bother you if I’m there.”
Jake agreed, and they walked to the nearest boys’ room, then waited. People passing them in the hall ignored them for the most part, but a few of the boys made jacking off motions to Jake and laughed. Jake simply turned away and didn’t respond to anything he heard.
Finally, Jeremy said they should go in, and Jake pushed the door open and stepped inside, right in front of Jeremy.
There were two older boys inside, both washing their hands. One of the boys glanced at the younger boys and then dried his hands. The other took a look, then said, “Hey, aren’t you the kid on the radio?”
Jeremy stepped forward a half step, partially shielding Jake. “What of it?” he asked gruffly.
“Hey, no problems,” said the older boy, smiling. “Just wondering. I thought that was him. Come on, Chuck. We’re gonna be late.” The two boys left, not saying another word, but both looking at Jake as they went.
Jake rushed to the urinal, and Jeremy stood by. “See,” he remarked. “Not everyone will have a problem with it. Just a few.”
“Yeah, I’ve already met some of those.” Jake tucked himself back in, briefly rinsed and dried
his hands, and they left the restroom just as the bell was ringing.
They hurried down the hall, and on the way Jeremy reminded Jake he’d have to get to his third period class
alone as Jeremy had a meeting scheduled with his second period teacher after class. He said he’d try to get
out of it, but not to wait for him.
Jeremy had been right. When Jake entered his second period class a few minutes late, Mr. Ferguson was talking to two boys at his desk and didn’t even glance Jake’s way. Jake had a front row seat in this class, pre-calculus, and slipped into it. He heard someone say something about faggots from behind him, but didn’t turn around and it wasn’t repeated.
Jake’s next class was Spanish. He didn’t wait this time for the room to empty. As he was in the front row, he was the second person to get to the door after class. The hallway was filling as he made his way to Spanish. It was on the floor below the one he was on. He was bumped as he got to the stairs, but it seemed a normal bump and he ignored it. He got down the stairs with everyone else going down and only had to pass four more doorways and walk through the front lobby and he’d be there.
He heard some boys calling to him as he walked. He heard the word ‘gay’ mentioned, he heard a voice calling out asking how many times he’d jacked off already today, followed by raucous laughter. His heart was beating faster than normal. He saw teachers standing in their doorways, and walked on. He kept his head down, met no one’s eyes, and just kept walking. He passed the final classrooms. Now he only had the lobby to cross, then his Spanish class was in the first room in the next corridor. He kept walking.
And then he halted. He had to. There was a group of kids in front of him, right in his way, stopping him, and standing out in front of it in the middle was Paul Timmons.
Jake looked at him, sudden fear in his eyes and in his soul. Paul stepped forward.
“So you’ve been looking at me in the shower, huh?” He poked Jake in the chest as he said this, knocking him a step backward.
“You been perving on me?” Another poke. Another jolt backward. This time, two football players in the group of kids watching yelled out, one saying, “Hit him, Paulie! Give it to him,” the other, “Cream his gay ass. Hit the son of a bitch!”
Another poke. “You’ve been thinking of me naked and telling a radio audience about it? You hoping I’m queer too, and maybe we’ll do something together?”
Paul stopped the poking, and while Jake was trembling in front of him, leaned down and spat in his face.
”We’re not playing together, homo. You’re getting a beating, gay boy. Right here, right now, and
you won’t be perving on me or anyone else again.”
The two football players in the crowd both shouted encouragement. The rest of the crowd was strangely silent, perhaps noting the terror in Jake’s eyes, his abject passivity, his lack of either offensive or defensive reaction to what was happening. He seemed inert. Helpless. So the crowd was silent. Except for the two boys egging Paul on.
Paul grabbed Jake by his shirt just above his collarbone with his left hand and yanked him forward and up, so instead of trembling in front of him, Jake was upright, his toes momentarily off the floor. Then the larger boy pulled his right hand back in a fist. Jake simply closed his eyes and didn’t even raise his hands in defense. He merely hung suspended from his attacker’s hand, and waited. Paul threw his fist forward with power, and it hit the side of Jake’s face.
Jake felt a crushing pain as his face seemed to explode and his head snapped back. And then he felt nothing at all.
Jake’s full weight sagged in Paul’s left hand, but Paul held him up and pulled his right fist back to hit him again. Then he heard a scream, and turned his head to see Jeremy rushing toward him. Jeremy lowered his shoulder and slammed into him.
Paul had an athlete’s balance and strength, and having played football and been knocked around by large linebackers for four years, knew how to absorb a tackle. The force of Jeremy running into him didn’t knock him over. He did release his grip on Jake. Jake fell to the floor, his head hitting and bouncing on the vinyl tiles. Paul grabbed Jeremy by the back of his shirt with both hands and, using what was left of Jeremy’s momentum and the centrifugal force of pivoting on his foot and spinning, flung him to the side. Jeremy slammed headfirst into the lockers, then crumpled to the floor.
Paul quickly turned around to find Jake again and saw him lying motionless on the floor. He took a step toward him, but stopped when he heard someone in the crowd of students say, “Hey, I don’t think the kid’s breathing. His chest isn’t moving. I think he’s dead!”
Paul took one step closer, and then stopped. He looked around at all the other kids looking at him. His two vocal supporters were suddenly silent. Everyone was watching him now, and, somehow, they seemed en masse to move a little back from him as he watched. He looked at them and saw the looks on their face change, then looked down again at Jake, who hadn’t moved at all. Jake lay on the floor, one arm under his body, one sprawled out, one leg at an odd angle, his body silent and motionless.
Paul hesitated, then turned and started to edge away from the crowd. After a few undecided steps, he began to walk faster. The rage and contempt on his face moments earlier had been replaced by a looks of uncertainty and confusion, and his hesitant walk turned into a run, and then he was at the front door and through it, and running.