Page 8 of Ginjuh

Chapter 2

“Suck any dick over summer, Ginjuh?” Matt laid back against the locker beside mine the following Friday afternoon after the last bell, his head turning so he could smile lasciviously at me. “Heard there was some albino out next to the dumpster behind the Taco Bell offering five-buck knob-jobs. Figured it was probably you.”

I rolled my eyes as I stuffed books into my locker.

“Maybe it was your mom, Matt?” Jay suggested in a blasé tone as he stuffed books into his locker next to mine. We always had lockers side-by-side, year after year. “Stripping during the early shift out at the airport bar doesn’t really pay the bills, does it?”

“Fuck you, dude,” Matt growled.

I snickered.

“Hey, no judgment, man.” Jay continued, uninterested. “If your dad hadn’t run off with that tranny, then—”

“Dude.” I frowned at him.

“Sorry.” Jay cringed. “My bad, man. If your dad hadn’t run off to join the circus, then your mom wouldn’t have to suck dick to keep the lights on.”

“Better?” I shrugged. “I guess. Don’t make fun of transgender people, man.”

“I’m sorry.” Jay patted my back. “Really.”

“All right.” I shrugged.

“You homos.” Matt laughed.

“Fuck you, dude.” I snapped at him.

“Dude,” Jay turned to snarl at him, “go bother someone else. Zach doesn’t need your shit and I don’t appreciate it.”

Matt lived to tease me about being gay. Okay. I know what you’re thinking—he’s a bully and should be hung by his thumbs in a torture chamber and whipped with a wet leather strap. Or maybe that was more of my “freak side” coming out. Either way, he wasn’t really a bully. Just another young straight guy who hadn’t quite learned how to be unproblematic. Not to excuse his behavior or anything, but he really was harmless—unless hurt feelings were terminal. I felt guilty for not hating Matt for his ignorance, but, at the same time, I realized he was just ignorant. Of course, I was shocked he hadn’t gotten to me before Friday afternoon. A whole five days had gone by before he peeked out of his cave to say something ignorant.

“Whatever.” Matt shrugged, suddenly bored. “You dick-lickers gonna hump each other this weekend?”

“Dude—” I began.

Jay draped an arm over my shoulders and smiled at Matt.

“Every chance we get, man.” He smiled sweetly. “And you are not invited since you’re so rude.”

Matt rolled his eyes and pushed away from the locker, off to harass somebody else in an equally offensive way, surely. As he walked away, Jay let his arm drop from my shoulders with a sigh.

“Ginjuh!” Jeff Potts, the captain of the baseball team walked by, fist raised in my direction.

I raised my fist to bump his as he walked by and then laughed as he spread his fingers wide in an “explosion” motion. He did that every time I sat down next to him in a class or we passed in the hallway. He was a nice guy, though he might have tried too hard to show how cool he was. Better than the alternative, though.

“Don’t let the repressed homophobes get you down, my man!” Jeff crowed as he continued down the hall, on his way out of the building.

“See ya’ Monday, man,” I replied.

Maybe you wouldn’t believe it, but I actually have a lot of friends from every clique in our high school. No one is particularly mean or put off by me being gay—and fairly open about it, save to my parents—but some, like Matt, like to get their jibes in from time to time. For the most part, though, a lot of my fellow students are very accepting and nice. Even if they refuse to call me anything but “Ginjuh”. I guess since they’re nice in every other way, I overlook being called a nickname I have nothing but disgust for in every way.

“So,” Jay shrugged, “we humpin’ or what, man?”

I laughed loudly.

“Go find Mandy.” I elbowed him.

Right as I elbowed him, he laughed sharply, and my attention was drawn to the locker that Matt had been laid against being opened. Jay looked over to see who had opened the locker, then looked over at me with a roll of his eyes and a crooked smile. Austin Mankins, all dark swoop of hair, sullen eyes, scrawny body, and blank expression was digging into the locker, stuffing books away. I hadn’t been alive then, but I believe that in the 90s, Austin’s look would have been referred to as “emo”. Maybe “goth” in some circles. Which was kind of surprising, considering the fact that he had been involved in all of the sports until the end of sophomore year. When junior year came, and he returned from summer break, he was wearing black, had grown his hair out, refused to smile at anyone, and refused to emote in any other way, either.