Raise Your Glass (12 page)

Mr. Raymond’s face was getting red now. “Mr. Parker, it’s like the military. Though we can’t condone it if nothing is said—”

“No, it’s not,” another voice said, standing up. This one was in Navy whites and looked like a big guy.

“No fucking way!” Brad exclaimed.

“Who’s that?”

“Aaron White. He played ball for Granada last year.” Brad was obviously blown away.

It was obvious Raymond was losing it. “And who are you, young man?”

“Petty Officer White, and I can tell you that this hellhole is nothing like the military. I spent four years here hiding who and what I was, hating Foster the entire time because of it. I couldn’t wait to get out. What you’re doing is going to crush not only Brad but any gay player that comes after him. And you can try to justify it as morale or for the team, but it’s really just about you not liking gay people.”

Now they weren’t murmuring. There was outright talking as people began to argue with each other. Mr. Raymond was trying to get control back but there was too much chaos. Finally he slammed his hand down on the table a few times and screamed, “
Order
!”

Everyone jumped at that and began to take their seats, well-behaved former high school students to the end. “Be that as it may, we have lost sight of the reason for this meeting. The proposal is to prohibit openly gay students from playing on any school-related sports team. We have heard your concerns: now let’s vote.”

Both of our moms screamed bloody murder, and I saw Mr. Parker stand up too, but it was obvious that the board was going to vote no matter what anyone with a brain might say.

“All in favor of the ban?” Raymond asked.

Every single one of them raised their hands.

“The motion is—” he began to say when the doors flew open again.

“Now who?” Brad asked, unable to see the door since it was under us.

Everyone stopped and looked in silence.

Slowly, as if there was nothing on the line at all, Brad’s dad walked down the aisle toward the podium. I saw his wife smile and move aside, letting him take her spot.

“Nathan,” Mr. Raymond said, obviously nervous. “Please don’t tell me you’ve come to admit you’re gay as well.”

No one laughed at that.

“No, Frank, I’m here to speak the only language you understand,” he said, turning to his wife. “I assume the passionate plea for equal rights and an end to bigotry didn’t help?” She shook her head, and I could feel the “I told you so” emanating off him. “Did you have a chance to discuss the federal laws?” he continued blandly. She arched her eyebrows and glanced at the members of the board, silently condemning them to the lowest class of Permian slime creatures she could imagine.

“And what language is that?” Raymond asked.

“Money,” he answered with a shark’s grin. “You do this to my son, and I will sue this district for every dime it has. When I’m done I won’t only have your job but I’ll own the whole damn school. Under the city charter, what you are doing is illegal.”

“No, it’s not,” Mr. Raymond argued.

“Yes, it is!” I screamed, standing up.

Whoops.

Everyone on stage shot me looks as sharp as shark’s teeth when the audience looked up at me. I might as well talk; I was fucked anyways. “According to the city charter, municipal funds cannot be used in any function that can be considered segregated or restrictive towards any member or group of the student body.”

Brad stood up next to me. “Yeah! What he said.”

I saw his dad nod.

“The boy is right,” Nathan said, getting Mr. Raymond and the school board’s attention. “It was originally put in there for racial segregation during the sixties, but it is worded so it includes any ban based on bias. You can’t stop a student from playing if they are black, a girl, or even gay. I am begging you, pass the ban.” His eyes flashed as Mr. Raymond began to sweat. “It doesn’t matter to me if he goes to college on a scholarship or on the settlement the state of Texas will give me after hearing what a mess you made of this. But either way, my son is going to college. And if you don’t think I’ll call the feds in to back me up, you’re dreaming.”

One of the ladies up on stage next to Raymond pulled him aside and began to whisper to him. Brad’s dad gestured angrily for us to get down there. “Busted,” Brad said with a huge grin on his face.

By the time we got to the floor, everyone on stage was gabbling, and it was obvious that the board in its little nest didn’t agree anymore. Brad went and sat next to his mom, and I headed over to mine, where she sat with Mr. Parker. “Surprised?” she asked, knowing full well I was.

“Did you bring him?” I asked, pointing to Mr. Parker.

“Tyler and I went to school together. I’ve known he was gay since he was your age,” she said smugly.

“You did not,” he argued.

“Oh please,” she replied sarcastically. “The only thing you were missing was a purse.”

Mr. Parker made a face as he sat back in his chair.

After a few minutes, the board stopped arguing and Mr. Raymond began to speak into the microphone. “In light of the information the board has just obtained, we move to strike down the ban and reinstate Bradley Greymark on the baseball team.” He looked over at Brad. “But there will be arrangements made for you to change out somewhere away from the others, same as if there was a female on the team.”

There was a cheer from most everyone in the seats, but I didn’t notice because all I was looking at was Brad. And he wasn’t happy. I knew what he was going to do half a second before he did it, but by then it was too late.

“So is there any other new business or can we adjourn for the—”

Brad stood up. “I have something.”

The entire auditorium went silent as he took his father’s place at the podium.

Brad

I
WALKED
up to the podium knowing my dad wasn’t going to just move aside.

“What are you doing?” he practically growled at me.

“Making things right,” I said, trying to sound braver than I actually felt. He wanted me to say more, but I refused to look at him, instead just staring at the school board, who had obviously had enough of me for one day. “Don’t screw this up,” he said as he let me pass. I saw him take a seat next to Mom, and they both had that look on their faces that said they thought I was about to screw the pooch on this.

“Mr. Greymark, you got what you wanted today,” Mr. Raymond said, sounding about as patronizing as anyone I’d ever heard. “What more could you possibly—?”

I looked over at Kyle, and I could see he was nervous. As our eyes met, he gave me a smile and a nod that told me, even though he had no idea what I was about to say, he was with me. “I want to address the bullying problem on campus.” Both Raymond and Adler rolled their eyes as I began to talk. “There is a problem at this school, a problem that has existed for a long time with nothing done to stop it. Hateful, spiteful acts that go unchecked and ignored by the teachers and the staff.”

Mr. Raymond sighed as he leaned into his mic. “Mr. Greymark, are you saying you want special protection against people being mean to you because you’re gay?”

“No,” I answered as firmly as I could. “I am saying I want everyone to have protection from people preying on them and making their high school life hell.” Raymond sat back, obviously confused about where I was going. “Kids in this school are beat up, put down, and generally made miserable by other kids, and the faculty turns a blind eye. I know this because before today I was one of the ones making them miserable. We stuff them into trash cans, slam them into lockers, call them names between classes, and a lot worse. And yet every time this happens, it’s justified by saying high school is tough and kids will be kids.” I took a deep breath and leveled a look at them.

“You’re wrong. High school doesn’t need to be that. You’re failing us, and worse, you’re failing yourselves. You think you’ve done something here because you were blackmailed into putting me on the team? You’re going to use this as proof that Foster is progressive and not a closed-minded, hostile community, and you’re wrong. There isn’t anything wrong with being different, and that needs to be understood by everyone. Wrong is wrong, different is good. If we were all the same, life would suck and it would be a pretty boring place all around. But you don’t let different grow in Foster High; hell, you don’t even let it exist. There’s a much bigger world past the outskirts of town, and if you want all of us to be ready for it, you need to start teaching us now. No matter who you are or what you are, there is a place for you somewhere. I already know half a dozen kids that are counting down the seconds until they can blow this town and never come back. I know because I am one of them. Is that what you want? A whole generation of children hating where they grew up because you were too afraid to accept them for what they are?”

This had to be the most I had ever talked in front of people in my life. My heart was pounding and I was sweating, but I couldn’t stop, not now.

“I’m not asking for special protection, I am asking for universal protection. I am asking you as adults, as our teachers, to do something about it and to do it quick. Because I don’t care what you have decided or what my dad threatened you with. I am not going to play ball for a school that can’t accept me for who and what I am. I don’t even want to go here. So you have a choice, Mr. Raymond: fix your school and its policies or deal with the consequences.”

“And what would that be, young man?” Raymond asked, daring me to finish the threat.

“He won’t go here anymore,” my mom said, standing up. “I’ll put him in Granada.”

I saw Kyle’s mom stand up too. “So will I,” she said. “So will a lot of parents.”

“Exactly how long do you think you can run a school with no students, Mr. Raymond?” I asked him with a smile. I looked at the rest of the school board. “Thank you for your time.”

And I walked away.

I could hear people clapping as Mr. Raymond tried to get order back, but I didn’t care. I meant what I said. I wasn’t going to go to a school where people could be treated like shit and no one did anything about it. Period.

Kyle ran up to me and threw his arms around me. “Who’s the superhero now?” he asked.

I gave him a grin. “You know, I was just sitting there asking myself, what would Kyle do?”

I saw him smile back and knew there wasn’t a chance in hell I would ever let him go.

“You know the school has a strict policy against public displays of affection?” he asked in mock outrage.

I looked over to the stage and back to him. “They can get over it.”

And I kissed him.

Author’s Note

E
VERYTHING
that happened in this novel to Brad and Kyle has happened to an actual gay or lesbian student in the United States. If you are not aware of how bad it can be in high school for teenagers coming out, please be aware it is worse than you think. There is nothing harder than trying to find your own identity in this world, and that is only made worse by intolerance from the people we trust to protect us. Though this is a work of fiction, similar experiences are happening right now to students all over the world, and their stories do not always have a happy ending.

If you are a gay or lesbian student being bullied in high school, you can contact The It Gets Better Project at http://www.itgetsbetter.org. If you are just someone being bullied in high school regardless of your sexuality, you can find help at http://stopbullying.gov.

If you are a parent of a gay or lesbian teen and want information or resources on talking to them about it, please go to http://www.pflag.org.

You are not alone and it
does
get better. There is always another choice out there, and if you think you are alone, you are not. If you are feeling suicidal, please visit
http:// www.suicide.org/gay-and-lesbian-suicide.html for help.
Your story is just as important as this one—please don’t end it early.

With love and sincerity,

John Goode

About the Author

J
OHN
G
OODE
was found in the back of a garden shed originally, and lured out by candy, he was raised on Elm Street before moving due to a rare sleep disorder. After taking off with a few friends to find a dead body, he attended Sherman High School majoring in absenteeism. Dropping out of college to work at the Gap, he struggled on perfecting his karaoke version of “Conjunction Junction” before moving on. He worked several odd jobs, first as a clerk at a record store that was open till midnight, moving to garbage collector with his brother, and then he finally decided on being a convenience store clerk who complained a lot that he wasn't even supposed to be there that particular day. He lives with a talking cartoon dog or cat or three squirrels and has possibly ingested far too much pop culture over the years.

Or he is this guy who lives in this place and writes stuff he hopes you read. John discovered M/M erotica when he heard himself describing what he had done the previous night.

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J
OHN
G
OODE