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Okay community, here's Chapter Twenty-Eight!
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Chapter 28
Sunday February 1
Martin’s laptop was open on the bed when Wyatt stuck his head through the doorway. Martin wasn’t there, but Wyatt could hear the shower running in the second floor bathroom. He wondered if he should wait for Martin or if that was too weird. But he didn’t want to leave. Martin would be gone after the parade…
It had been a crazy week. It seemed like Wyatt had kept coming out, again and again. But the whole straight-at-school, himself-at-home back and forth, five times, had been rough. This weekend had been a lot easier. Come to think of it, maybe that was what his soldier was smiling about in the photo downstairs. Maybe just being yourself was the secret…
The screen saver of naked guys hanging out and swimming by the river’s edge glowed. One more coming out, and he could be done.
Wyatt could feel the chill of the water in his bones. That was where the sharks lived. But he could out-swim them, and stand tall on the far shore.
I can let freedom ring.
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Queer As A Five-Dollar Bill Blog
QUEER AS A FIVE-DOLLAR BILL
Blog Post: Sunday, February 1, 10:19 p.m.
I am Gay!
I know people are going to think I’m only saying Lincoln was gay because I am. But that’s not it. Someone really smart once asked me, since I’ve got all the same evidence about Abraham Lincoln that everyone else does, how come I’m the only one who can see that Lincoln was gay?
Well, maybe all those historians couldn’t see it because they weren’t looking for it.
I could see Abe was in love with Joshua because I was open to seeing it. The proof is there – in this blog, and in Joshua Fry Speed: Lincoln’s Most Intimate Friend, and in all those other books with the Lincoln letters.
If you look for it – with an open mind – you can see it, too.
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Monday February 2
Wyatt woke up at 4:23 a.m., sheets drenched in regret and sweat.
What the hell had he done?
He had to delete it. No, that would look even worse, like he was hiding again. Shit!
Mr. Guzman had told them about how getting something back once it was online was as impossible as getting pee out of a swimming pool. This was more like shit in a swimming pool. You might as well try to drain the whole internet.
He kicked at the knot of sheets. There was no way to take it back. They were all going to know.
Maybe he could get home-schooled like Martin.
Or run away to somewhere where they didn’t have internet.
He got up, peeled off his clammy T-shirt and put on dry stuff. There was no way he was going to fall back asleep. He sat on the edge of his bed for five minutes, staring at the beads of misty rain on his windows, trying to not panic.
It didn’t really work.
He snuck down the flight of stairs and quietly knocked on Martin’s door. No answer.
He’s asleep. This is stupid.
Wyatt was on the first step to go back up and suffer on his own when the door to Room Two opened an inch.
“Wyatt?” Martin was rumpled, and adorable, and weirdly enough, just seeing him made the tightness across Wyatt’s chest loosen up a little. “You okay?”
Wyatt answered truthfully. “No.”
Martin pulled the door wide. “Come in.”
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“So they say, ‘Dude, don’t turn your back on him – he could jump your bones.’ And then you can say, ‘I’m gay, I’m not desperate.” It was an hour later, and Martin was sitting on his bed wrapped in his comforter, running through all these different scenarios. Telling Wyatt how he could get the upper hand for each one.
“Or they go, ‘Hey, read about your being a fag!’ And you can act all happy and surprised for them, ‘You learned to read!’”
Wyatt picked at an embroidered flower on the armchair he’d pulled over by the bed. “I wish I didn’t have to go to school.”
Martin made this I-wish-I-had-better-news-to-tell-you face. “Mom says you have to go, or they’ll get you for truancy. Even with a Doctor’s note, it wouldn’t be credible.”
Credible. Martin was sounding like a lawyer again. Wyatt wondered if after he got creamed and was in the hospital, if that would be a good enough excuse to not go to school.
“For what it’s worth,” Martin said, “I wish I could go back in time to my junior high, knowing what I know now.”
Wyatt gave him a skeptical look. “Really?”
Martin thought for a second and shrugged. “Maybe not. But if I did, at least now I’d know what I could say back!”
Wyatt crossed his arms.
Martin kept the advice rolling. “Here’s another one. If Jonathon says, ‘you like my ass, faggot?’ You can say, ‘It’s amazing how it can talk!’”
That one got Wyatt to crack up.
“You can do this.” Martin seemed so confident Wyatt could.
But Wyatt wasn’t.
Martin put his hand on top of Wyatt’s, but Wyatt was too freaked out to feel anything. And then, Martin said something Wyatt didn’t expect. “Call Mackenzie. Maybe she can help.”
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Ready for Chapter Twenty-Nine? It will be posted on March 23, 2018.
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