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“Me? Why?”
I shouldn’t sound outraged and alarmed, I know, but the words slip out before I can catch them. Virginia is unruffled.
“You did really well with that field trip,” she says. “In fact, I was impressed with how you handled the whole incident. You didn’t blow it off. You went and checked it out yourself, verified your suspicions before making accusations, and turned it into a genuine learning experience. And not just for those three boys. Your whole class benefited from your measured response. It was really excellent work, Luke. You turned something that could have been ugly into something positive.”
“You helped a lot,” I say weakly.
“None of it would have happened without your initiative. I know plenty of teachers who would have brushed it off. Not their problem. It’s not like you guys aren’t over-worked and stressed out. You could haveignored a couple boys talking shit in the back of your classroom. But you didn’t, and I’ve been really impressed with that.”
“Thanks.”
Her words should mean more to me. I should be basking in such high praise from the school’s principal. Plus, she came here personally to deliver the message. It’s not like she isn’t busy. She said that we teachers are over-worked and stressed out, but that goes at least doubly for her. This should be the greatest accolade I can receive at work, but I’m struggling to take it as a positive. Instead of a pat on the back, it’s a spotlight glaring down on me, leaving me alone and exposed on a stage, all eyes on me. That is just about the last place I’d ever want to be.
“Cheer up,” Virginia says. “You look like I stole your lunch.”
Yeah, I wish. If only she knew. Or…
A horrible thought strikes me. Does she know? Has she guessed? Has my reaction to this whole situation left behind implications that she picked up and put together? It can’t be. Even if that were the case, it would be wildly inappropriate for my boss to go and assign me work based on theassumptionthat I’m gay.
“So, look, this is what I’m thinking,” Virginia says. “It’s the end of the year. We have a couple weeks left. This isn’t going to be some big event or anything, but we could definitely use a few extra pairs of hands.”
“But why me?”
It comes out whiny, pathetic, but my heart is flying around my chest and I fail to rein in my words.
“Because I only want people I trust on this,” Virginia says. “I want it done right and with care, and you’ve demonstrated you can do this right and with care. It’s only some displays in the halls and stuff. The committee I put on this has already finalized their designs and things, so you won’t need to attend any meetings, but if you have a couple nights free after school, they could really, really use your help. It would mean a lot to them, and to some of the kids in this school. We don’t know which ones, typically, but we can suspect, right? And we can give those kids the message that they’re safe here, that the adults around them care, that they will be seen when they’re ready to be seen.”
Her speech leaves my throat corked with emotion. I know exactly the sort of kids she’s talking about. There’s at least a few in my classes. I see them, but I never say anything. I never give them any hint that I might be someone they could talk to and confide in. I’ve been too afraid, which is perhaps the most pathetic aspect of all this. Those kids probably need adult role models and mentors, maybe even more than their peers do, and I’m letting them down. I’m even trying to run away from making a stupid billboard that will decorate the halls for a couple short weeks.
Sebastian would be disgusted with me.
I haven’t reached out to him since the field trip, since that heart emoji, but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped thinking about him. Selfishly, inexcusably, I have thought about him. A lot. I’ve wondered what he’s doing, if he’s at the café, if he’s dancing at the club, if he’s volunteering to teach those kids. I’ve wondered if he’s thought about me at all, whether he hates me. Yet I’ve always reeled away from that line of inquiry as quickly as possible. He can’t think anything charitable about a coward who ran from him after using him. I deserve nothing but his scorn.
Even so, maybe I can do this. Maybe I can do this one stupid little thing. Maybe I can hang up some Pride decorations in my school, patching over my defects with rainbow banners and informative fliers. It isn’t much, but it’s something. It’s more than nothing. And up to this point, “nothing” is all I’ve ever contributed.
“Alright, fine,” I say. “Yeah. I think I could spare some weeknights. It’s just some decorating, right?”
Virginia brightens. “Yes, exactly. Most of the work has been done already. I’m going around recruiting some willing hands to help out with implementing things. It shouldn’t be too much of a burden.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, trying not to sound absolutely miserable.
Virginia doesn’t seem to notice. She all but jumps up out of her chair, leaving me with a few parting exclamations about how thankful she is and how she’sgoing to tell the committee right away. I try to smile, at least until she’s gone and I’m alone again. Then I let out a breath that feels like it was trapped in my chest for that entire disastrous conversation.
How did I go from being in the closet for the past fifteen years to field trips about queer history and a Pride committee? And Sebastian… He’s been part of this from the start, the center of the whirlpool steadily sucking me deeper into a life I’ve steadfastly avoided. I don’t know how much longer I can fight the current, or what it’ll be like when my arms give out and the tide drags me down.
I glance at my phone. As though I’ll have a message from him. As though he might have answers or reassurances for me. I couldn’t ask that of him, even if I hadn’t told him at the start that we shouldn’t be in communication, that this was temporary and casual. He’s doing exactly what I asked, respecting my boundaries, yet a part of me wishes he’d ignore them and pull me back to him.
Or maybe it’s my turn to do the pulling.
My life is spiraling out of control. I feel the walls I’ve hidden behind for so long cracking more and more every day. Perhaps that’s making me reckless, careless, but a piece of me wants to give up and let the whole charade fall. It’s not even that I don’t think I could handle the consequences. It’s that I’ve lived my life this way for so long that I don’t know what’s on the other side. I don’tknow what it might be like to do things differently. And I’m … I’m scared. I’m every bit as scared as I was when I was fifteen and made this vow to myself.
I don’t know if anything can overcome that old, entrenched fear, but I do know someonewho might manage it.
Chapter Seventeen
Sebastian
THE DAM BREAKS.
