Swing for the Fences

by Little Buddha

Chapter 23

At some point during the night, Jack and I had managed to kick off our pajama bottoms and boxers.

Not intentionally. There was no epic, seductive stripping scene. Just a combination of body heat, the furnace turned up way too high, sleepy wriggling, and two teenage boys being overly affectionate under one too-warm blanket while barely conscious.

When I groggily blinked awake the next morning, the first thing I noticed was Jack's nose brushing against mine, and the second thing I noticed was that our legs were tangled together and… two other things were brushing together as well.

We were naked.

Together.

I opened my eyes fully, just in time to see Jack do the same. We both blinked at each other once, twice – then immediately looked down.

"Uh," Jack said.

"Yeah," I breathed.

We stared at each other, wide-eyed. Then we laughed – quiet, sheepish, sleepy laughter.

"So," Jack murmured. "Do we, like… get dressed again? Or just snuggle and pretend this is totally normal?"

"I mean," I said, running a hand down his bare back, "I'm definitely not mad about it."

He grinned, leaning in closer. "Me neither."

We were just about to go back to cuddling (and perhaps grabbing a handful of Jack's fleshy white butt under the covers, and maybe even a little grinding against each other) when the door slammed open like someone had kicked it in.

We both shrieked – actual, high-pitched shrieks – and fumbled for the blanket like it was a life raft in the middle of an emotional hurricane.

"Oh my God ! You're naked !" came Jonah's high-pitched shriek, equal parts gleeful and scandalized.

Rather than, I don't know, leaving , Jonah started ripping off his hoodie and gym shorts like he was trying to join us in an underwearless slumber party.

"Absolutely not!" I yelped, pulling the blanket tighter. "You are not getting in this bed naked with us, you little scamp!"

Jack was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. "Jonah, what the hell?! "

Jonah just flopped on the bed beside us, thankfully still in his boxers, and stretched like a satisfied cat. "God, you two are no fun. I've missed you."

"You've missed us ?" I asked, still clutching the blanket to my chest like I was in a bad Victorian period drama. "You've been M.I.A. all week."

Jonah shrugged, letting his arm drape across Jack's shins. "Just had to figure some stuff out, that's all."

I narrowed my eyes. "Any of that stuff have to do with Danny?"

Jonah blushed – actually blushed – and muttered, "Maybe."

Jack and I exchanged a glance.

"Care to explain?" I asked cautiously.

Jonah sighed dramatically, then flopped onto his back (still wearing only his underwear) and stared at the ceiling. "Fine. Whatever. You caught me."

He paused for effect – classic Jonah – and then launched into his confession.

"I may have been pushing Danny away the last few days because my feelings were getting all… real. And weird. And I felt kinda guilty about it because, well, I still had this massive crush on you two."

Jack blinked. "Seriously?"

"Duh," Jonah said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "But then I was like, okay, they're together. They're happy. And I love them, but I'm not gonna be the third wheel who tries to wedge himself into their relationship like a human spork."

"A human what ?" Jack whispered.

Jonah waved him off. "Point is, I really like the way Danny makes me feel. He makes me feel… not just like a joke. Like maybe I'm worth something."

The room went very still for a moment.

Jack and I just stared at him, stunned. That was… shockingly mature. Actually heartfelt .

"And so," Jonah said with yet another dramatic sigh, "I decided I needed to get over the you-two thing, and just… give Danny a real shot. And boom. Now I'm back to my delightful, adorable, semi-feral self."

I blinked. "Wow. That was… weirdly articulate."

"I am weirdly articulate," Jonah sniffed.

"Have you told any of this to Danny?"

"Was on my way there," Jonah said, hopping to his feet. "Kinda hoping to find him naked in bed too."

" Jonah. "

"What?!"

Jack was still laughing as Jonah moved toward the door, but before he left, he paused and stared at us – like he was deep in thought.

"What?" I asked warily.

"Well," Jonah said, cocking his head, "since you're already naked, the least you could do is let me have a peek at your weenies."

I hurled a pillow at his face. "HELLION!"

He cackled all the way down the hall. Unfortunately for Jonah, though, the last joke was on him. He'd left his hoodie and shorts in our room and was currently running down the hall in just his underwear, although I doubted he would feel embarrassed at all.

After a few more stunned minutes under the covers, Jack finally said, "Well, that was… something."

"I don't even know what day it is anymore."

Eventually, we dragged ourselves out of bed, got our towels, and shuffled to the showers. We stood outside the stalls for a solid thirty seconds, awkwardly trying to decide if this was the moment we finally showered together.

Spoiler: it was not.

We chickened out and showered separately, both pretending not to think about it too much.

After getting dressed, we headed to the dining hall for a late breakfast, our legs still jelly from too much kissing, too little sleep, and one very unexpected morning goblin ambush.

We piled our plates high with French toast and sausage links, grabbed two orange juices, and made our way to our usual table. Mark, Emery, and Christian were already there, chatting about something in low voices.

Danny and Jonah were there too.

Holding hands.

They looked… absurdly cute. Jonah was wearing an old Harrison West hoodie – probably a hand-me-down from Christian – with the fraying sleeves, and Danny had a sleepy grin on his face that made him look like he'd just won the lottery and been told he never had to go to school again. I wondered if Jonah had gotten Danny to show him his weenie yet. I doubted it. Danny seemed too shy for that.

As soon as we sat down, Jonah stood up on his chair and cleared his throat dramatically.

"I have an announcement ."

Oh no.

Everyone looked up.

"Danny and I," he proclaimed, puffing out his chest, "are officially boyfriends . If anyone has a problem with that, my big brother, Christian, will kick your asses."

Christian blinked. "Wait— what ?"

Too late.

Jonah was still going.

"And I would just like to add that it is supremely unfair that Nick and Jack get to sleep naked together just because they're roommates and boyfriends , and I can't sleep naked with my boyfriend."

Jack choked on his sausage, the innuendo writing itself. I felt my soul leave my body.

Mark spit out his orange juice. Emery's jaw dropped. Danny turned beet red and buried his face in his hands.

"Jonah," I managed to gasp. "Please. Eat your eggs and shut up. "

But he just beamed at me.

Everything was chaos.

Jonah seriously needed to deal with his boundary issues. And I don't mean little stuff, like borrowing your notes without asking. I mean full-on, catastrophic, no-shame boundary issues. The little scamp barged into mine and Jack's room at sunrise while we were still asleep (and very much naked), then waltzed into the cafeteria and announced it like it was the school's morning bulletin. That's Jonah. Privacy? Never heard of it.

And it wasn't just that. Jonah flirted with me, with Jack, with anything that had a heartbeat, and he ran the school gossip circuit like he was TMZ with a meal plan. Personal space? Please. Jonah treated it like a rumor he was determined to prove false.

The worst part was that he knew he could get away with it. His not-so-secret weapon? Wiggling his unnaturally tiny butt. I swear, he'd do this little shimmy, bat those puppy-dog eyes, and boom – suddenly, teachers forgot they were furious, classmates forgave him for being insufferable, and everyone went right back to letting him run wild. It was criminal, honestly. But one day, that trick was going to backfire and bite him squarely in the ass – hopefully figuratively, though with Jonah, who even knows?

Don't get me wrong. Jonah was hilarious. He could make detention feel like open-mic night, and yeah, life was more fun with him around. But sometimes he didn't just cross the line – he set up a trampoline and did backflips over it. And this time? Oh, this time he went way too far. Jonah needed to learn a lesson.

Little did any of us know, this time we all would suffer for Jonah's recklessness.

I had an inkling that something was wrong the second Mr. G knocked.

He didn't come in with his usual cheerful, "Hey, boys." No teasing smile, no half-eaten granola bar in hand. Just a tight-lipped expression and a clipped, "Nick. Jack. My office. Now."

Jonah and Danny were already with him, looking pale and quiet. The three of us exchanged panicked glances, but none of us said anything.

We followed him down the hall like we were walking into a courtroom. I didn't know what we'd done – not really – but I could feel it in my chest, this cold, prickly dread.

Something was coming.

Something bad.

We sat down in the stiff wooden chairs facing Mr. G's desk. He didn't sit in his own chair. Instead, he perched on the corner of the desk like a disappointed father in an afterschool special, arms folded, glasses low on his nose.

" Young man, " he said, turning toward Jonah, his voice sharp enough to cut through glass. "I heard about your little outburst this morning in the dining hall."

Jonah visibly shrank in his chair. His whole body folded in on itself like he wanted to disappear. Danny, sitting beside him, was already sniffling, eyes red, hands trembling in his lap.

"Talk of 'sleeping naked' with your 'boyfriend,' or any other kind of sexual activity, for that matter," Mr. G continued, "is strongly discouraged at this school. Especially in such a lewd and uncouth manner and with younger, impressionable children around. It is not acceptable. Period. You are to behave like gentlemen. "

Jonah turned beet red and stared hard at the floor, only managing to croak out, "Yes, sir." How guilty he actually felt was yet to be determined.

Danny was crying now, tears slipping down his cheeks in silent streaks. Jack… Jack just stared ahead, frozen, like he'd left his body somewhere behind.

I felt my stomach drop. My chest tightened.

This wasn't a warning. This wasn't a light scolding.

This was serious.

"And you two gentlemen ," Mr. G said, now turning his full glare on me and Jack, "have really disappointed me."

The words hit harder than I expected. Mr. G had been our guy . Our protector. The one who ruffled our hair in the mornings and handed me my meds with a dad joke and a wink. The man who once told me that it was okay to lean on each other, literally or figuratively, with Jack.

But now…

"I've watched you both go through some difficult things this year," he said, quieter now but still just as stern. "I was more than happy to give you some grace. I looked the other way when you stayed up past lights out to watch movies together. I tried to be cool about the… little sex talk we had."

He paused, rubbing his temples like he was trying to hold himself together. The silence stretched.

"But this is not a brothel," he said, voice low. "This is an educational institution . You are here to learn. To grow. To get into an excellent college and become brilliant young men."

I wanted to scream. To shout that we were learning, that we were growing, that love wasn't a threat to education, and that nobody had done anything wrong. But the words never made it past my throat. They just sat there, tangled, heavy.

The thing was, I didn't even understand what we were supposed to have done wrong. We hadn't been sneaking off to some broom closet, or fooling around in the back of class. We were behind closed doors. Private. And we weren't doing anything sexual – not even close. We'd just… fallen asleep next to each other. Naked, yeah, but not like that . It wasn't some scandal. It wasn't hurting anyone. So why did it feel like the end of the world now?

What I really couldn't wrap my head around was why Mr. G, of all people, was acting like this. Mr. G, who was supposed to be the one who understood us, who was supposed to be in our corner. He wasn't supposed to look at me like I'd crossed some unforgivable line. It made no sense. None of it did. And the more I tried to figure it out, the more the confusion piled up, pressing down on me until I couldn't breathe. I was quite literally on the verge of tears. I'd never been in trouble in school in my entire life. I was always the good boy in school, always the teacher's pet (which didn't help when it came to the bullies), and I never even had as much as detention before. Had the world suddenly turned upside down and now I was the "bad boy?"

Mr. G continued.

"And now it seems like all you care about is 'getting naked with your boyfriend' and being irresponsible. I will not have this lackadaisical attitude toward sex, at your very young ages, negatively influencing the other boys here, or setting yourselves down the wrong path. I think some serious changes need to be made, as well as some punishments to get the point across to you all."

All four of us were crying now, in one way or another. Jonah's shoulders were shaking. Danny was openly sobbing. Jack's head had dropped into his hands.

And I… I didn't even realize I was crying until I felt the tears fall onto my jeans.

"There's a line," Mr. G said. "And it's been crossed. I'm reporting this to the Dean, and we'll be notifying your parents."

He stood slowly.

"You're dismissed, boys. Get to class, and you'll stay in your rooms when you're not in class until we've figured out how to handle this."

We didn't move at first. It was like our bodies didn't get the message. Or maybe we didn't want to move – because if we left that office, we'd be stepping into a new version of our lives. One that felt darker. One where everything had suddenly gone wrong.

Eventually, we stood.

No one spoke as we walked back to our rooms.

When we got inside, I collapsed onto my bed. My mind was racing – spinning in a million directions. Trying to remember exactly what we'd said, what we'd done , trying to understand how this happened. But I kept coming up blank, because we hadn't done anything wrong . We were literally just sleeping – naked, yes – but that was it. We were in our dorm room, and no one would have been the wiser unless Jonah hadn't barged in. We couldn't think of anything we did that violated the school rules. We hadn't even intentionally slept naked – it just sorta happened while we were asleep.

Across the room, Jack curled up on his bed in the fetal position, rocking gently, eyes open but blank. He didn't say a word. Just… rocked.

And that scared me more than anything.

I didn't know what to do.

This didn't seem fair at all. It was an injustice! And I couldn't believe that Mr. G had just turned on us like that, out of the blue.

But now he sounded like he hated us. Like we were shameful. Like we were some kind of problem to be reported and filed away.

I wanted to scream. To hit something. To go back and beg him to listen .

But all I could do was lie there and shake, cursing Jonah under my breath for having started this mess.

Jack still hadn't moved. I had to try to do something about that before I worried about myself.

I tried everything – whispering to him, hugging him, telling him over and over that it was going to be okay, that I loved him, that none of this was his fault. But he stayed locked inside himself, silent and unreachable, and with every minute that passed, my chest tightened more. Finally, and only because I couldn't think of anything else to do, I swallowed my pride and went to find Mr. G. My face burned with embarrassment as I admitted that I thought Jack might need one of his sedatives – the ones that were kept in Mr. G's office for "as needed" emergencies. To my surprise, he didn't scold me again. He just blinked, distracted, like his mind was elsewhere, and muttered, "Yes, yes, of course. I'll be right there." When he came back with me, he coaxed Jack to take the pill, and I could only hope it would calm him down. But then the strangest thing happened: Mr. G turned to me, looking genuinely torn, almost guilty. "I'm really sorry about all this, Nick… It's just… I…" He never finished the sentence. He just cleared his throat and told me to stay with Jack until he settled and then get some rest. The whole exchange left me rattled. Something about the way he said it – or didn't say it – made my skin crawl. Like Hamlet says, something is rotten in the state of Denmark. And whatever that was, I had the sickening feeling it had just slipped under our door and into the room with us.

And that's when I remembered the leftover Clonazepam in my desk drawer. From that night, I broke down after Noah. I hadn't thrown them away.

My fingers were numb as I pulled them out from under my notebooks.

I took two pills at once. No water. I knew it was wrong. I knew I shouldn't even still have those pills. If I was feeling bad, I was supposed to go to the infirmary. But I wasn't about to leave Jack there alone, and I needed something to calm my poor, rattled nerves.

I lay back, closed my eyes, and waited for the fear to go quiet.

Because I couldn't fix this.

And I didn't know who could.

It seemed like my whole world had come crashing down.

It wasn't like I'd been perfect here – I'd made mistakes, big ones – but this place had become my home . Harrison West was where I came alive. Where I worked my ass off to get to. Where I finally became me . But that positive growth and change didn't wipe away all those demons I still carried with me.

I still often wondered what was wrong with me. Why was I always so nervous, so afraid of messing everything up? Why was I always so full of self-doubt, anxiety, and couldn't be as self-confident as the other boys? It wasn't like I'd had a rough childhood. My parents were wonderful. Supportive. Normal. I hadn't grown up sheltered or overprotected, and before my dad died, I thought I was just like any other kid. I had a couple of really close friends in the neighborhood – Ben and Tyler. We'd ride our bikes until dark, build forts in the woods, play endless games of H-O-R-S-E in Tyler's driveway, the occasional sleepover (where I never felt comfortable). I can still picture their moms calling us in for dinner while we begged for "just five more minutes." Nothing unusual. Nothing broken.

But when my dad died, it was like a switch flipped. I stopped answering their calls. Stopped showing up at the park or the driveway. When Ben biked over to my house and knocked on the door, I pretended I was sick and wouldn't come outside. After a while, they stopped trying. Who could blame them? I had shut them out. And when the fog finally lifted and I wanted to reach out again, it was too late. The phone numbers were still in my head, but the friendship was gone. I told myself I'd ruined it, that I'd abandoned them when I needed them most, and that guilt just stuck like a stain I couldn't wash out.

And then when it came to making new friends, the whole "discovering I was gay" thing became a major impediment, because I was finding out that the boys that I'd like to be friends with were always the cute boys. I was petrified that I'd give something away to "out" myself, so I never even bothered trying, just observed them from afar, daydreaming about doing things with them that "normal" boys did, like going camping, or starting a rock band, or … cuddling together at night until we fell asleep in each other's arms. See the problem?

Maybe that's why I've carried this constant fear of doing the wrong thing, of letting people down, why I'm so anxious and full of self-doubt, like those years I spent spinning circles in my head about being gay, terrified of getting bullied if anyone found out, half-convinced my mom wouldn't accept me. (Which I knew now was total crap, but back then it felt real enough to keep me up at night.) Or maybe it was just in my DNA. My mom worried, too – not like I did, not spiraling – but enough that I wondered if I'd inherited it and just turned the volume all the way up.

Eventually, I figured that it was most likely all of it. The grief, the loneliness, the secret I carried, the guilt for friendships I let die, the worry baked into me from the start. A winning combination. And what made it worse was looking around this place, seeing kids like Jack and Noah – kids who did come from families that screwed them up, parents who actually failed them – and realizing I hadn't had any of that. My parents had given me everything, and somehow, I was the one who turned into a walking panic button.

And if anyone here really knew that? If they knew I didn't have some big excuse, some terrible backstory to explain why I was the way I was? They'd probably think I was pathetic. Weak. Broken for no reason. That was the part that ate at me most – knowing that on paper, I should have turned out fine. Better than fine. And yet, deep down, I wasn't fine. I still felt like I didn't deserve any of the good things I had now. Not Jack, not this school, not any of it.

But then, everything appeared to change when I came to Harrison West. I'd come out of my shell here. I'd made real friends. I'd joined clubs, played sports, and cracked jokes over lukewarm chicken nuggets in the dining hall. I'd met him – the boy who changed everything. And for once in my life, I wasn't pretending or hiding or waiting for something better.

But now… it was all unraveling, and I felt like that same anxious, lonely, and withdrawn boy I was. Those words from Mr. G really did a number on me, and I still couldn't get them out of my head. Because even though he was wrong about what happened, he still made me feel guilty for being who I was, and now I was boiling over with anxiety that I'd get expelled from school and never see Jack or my friends again. That this new and better life I had finally found for myself couldn't be snatched away from me, all for something so stupid, but I couldn't even stand up for myself. I couldn't do anything.

I felt like a ghost. A pariah. My dorm – my family – suddenly felt foreign and cold. Like something I might never get back.

But as bad as it felt for me, I knew it had to be a million times worse for Jack.

Jack, who'd finally started to let people in. Who'd let me in. Who was soft and brave and snarky and broken in all the right ways. Who'd been holding it together for so long with nothing but duct tape and dark humor.

And now the school would be calling his parents. The parents who openly despised him and called him a "faggot." What was he going to do now? What would happen to him?

I couldn't even imagine what kind of hell that would unleash. I was afraid he wouldn't be able to take it. I feared that he was so fragile now that he might do something … stupid. And it scared the heck out of me, because now I had both of us to worry about, but if I could take care of or stand up for myself, how could I do it for Jack, too?

And then there was Mr. G's talk of punishment. The best-case scenario? They'd split us up – stick him in some other room with a stranger, maybe someone who would treat him like a freak. The worst-case? They'd pull him from school entirely. Send him back to California. Back to that miserable house full of abuse and degradation and judgment. What if they beat Jack again? I still had the photos as evidence tucked away, just in case.

Back to the people who made him feel like he didn't deserve to exist, who literally told him he should kill himself, and they hoped he died of AIDS!

Sunday dragged by like a slow-motion nightmare.

I hadn't eaten. Couldn't think. Couldn't move. I just lay there, watching the clock on my phone tick from minute to minute like it was mocking me.

Every knock in the hallway made my heart jump. I couldn't leave the room. Couldn't bear the stares, the whispers, the phantom shame. Maybe this was how Noah felt, although I still couldn't bring myself to feel bad for him.

Jack hadn't said a word all day.

He was still curled up on his bed, knees to his chest, face buried in his pillow. Like he'd melted into himself. I tried – God, I tried – to pull him out. I talked to him. Sat by him. Touched his shoulder. Nothing. I even tried to reason with him (although I wasn't nearly as confident as my words seemed to indicate):

"Jack, they can't do anything to us when they didn't end up doing anything to Noah other than that stupid assembly, and he was literally caught in the act . We didn't do anything wrong! We'll fight this!"

I was losing him.

I was losing everything .

At some point, I cracked.

"Jack," I said, voice breaking. " Look at me. Look at me!"

He didn't move.

"Don't you get it ? Don't you know how much I fucking love you?"

The words tumbled out before I could stop them. I hadn't planned to say them yet, hadn't even admitted them fully to myself before now. After what happened with Noah, I'd sworn I'd protect my heart a little longer.

But there it was.

And it was true .

He lifted his head.

His eyes were red. Empty. But he looked at me.

"I love you too, Nick," he whispered.

I didn't care about anything else. I crawled onto his bed and wrapped myself around him, and we held each other like the air might disappear. We kept saying it, over and over, like a mantra, like a prayer, like we could make it real enough to drown out everything else.

The room dimmed slowly as the sun slipped away. The path lights outside flickered on, casting their soft yellow glow through the blinds. The walls felt too close. The silence felt too loud.

And then came a knock.

I froze.

I untangled myself from Jack, wiped my face, and crossed to the door.

Christian stood there.

His jaw was tight. His sweatshirt looked like he'd pulled it on in a hurry. And his eyes were sharp – angry-sharp.

He didn't wait for an invitation. Just pushed past me into the room.

"Turn on a light," he muttered.

I did.

Christian faced us, hands in his hoodie pockets, rocking on his heels.

"I've been talking to the Student Council," he said. "Everyone thinks this whole thing is a total farce, complete bullshit."

Jack stirred behind me.

"The school's already called your parents," Christian added. At that, Jack let out a low, miserable groan and turned his face to the wall.

"They want to make an example out of you guys. Some of the donors and trustees have been saying they're 'uncomfortable' with how progressive the school's gotten – especially all the LGBTQ support and the DEI stuff. They're scared it'll mess with federal grants or something, even though the school's sitting on, like, a billion-dollar endowment. That's the word going around, straight from Student Council. First step? You're getting separated. New rooms. Different dorm monitors. After that, no one's sure – just that they want to make a strong statement. And honestly? It pisses me off. Like, they're hiding behind excuses when really they just don't like what the school's become."

I felt like I was going to be sick, even if I only understood half of what he said. Trustees, endowments, DEI … it was all a little much for my brain at the moment. But I kept listening, trying to focus, because Christian seemed to be the only one around here who was trying to fight back: Christian, my hero.

"But we're not letting this go," Christian said, his voice sharp and forceful. "The Student Council's getting involved. And now the Rainbow-Straight Alliance is mobilizing too. The students are pissed, and a lot of the faculty, too."

"Won't matter," I said flatly. "They'll just push us further into the shadows. Pretend we're a problem they've already fixed."

Christian's eyes narrowed. "Maybe. But I'm not giving up. And you shouldn't either."

Jack didn't say anything.

I sat back down slowly. I could barely breathe.

Christian rubbed his face. "And in case you're wondering who lit the match that started all this, it was an uppity parent volunteer."

"Of course it was," I muttered.

"Her name's actually Karen ," he said, giggling. "I'm not even kidding."

That almost made me laugh. Almost .

Somehow, it was always the busybodies who couldn't keep their noses out of other people's lives – the ones who threw themselves into ridiculous "causes" like boycotting stores for supporting Pride or pitching fits about gay characters on TV. And half the time they were the same people throwing tantrums in restaurants or calling the cops on Black people for the "crime" of just existing. For whatever reason, the world had started calling them all "Karens" – the catch-all label for that brand of entitled, self-righteous white woman who lived for the feeling of power.

"She overheard Jonah's big speech in the dining hall. Ran straight to the Dean. Filed a formal complaint – 'sexual misconduct,' 'predatory behavior,' 'obscene language.' You name it."

My head was spinning again.

"They think we're predators," I whispered.

"They're wrong ," Christian snapped. "And we're gonna prove it."

I looked up at him. "Why do you even care?"

He gave me a tired half-smile. "Because I've watched you two fall in love. And I think it's one of the only beautiful things this world has left. And I've watched you become best friends with my brother, watching out for him and sticking up for him. He's the kid who scares most people away and doesn't have many real friends. And whether he admits it or not, he's LGBTQ, too. And most importantly, you're my friends, and I fight for my friends."

I almost cried again. But I didn't.

He stepped toward the door, then paused.

"You should call your mom," he said gently. "Find out what she's been told. And maybe… see if she's in your corner."

I nodded numbly.

After Christian left, I sat in the dark for a long time.

I didn't move.

I didn't reach for my phone.

Because even though I knew Christian was trying to help… I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd already lost everything. That it was too late. As was typical for me, I was spiraling. Scared to do anything. Scared to stand up and be heard. Scared of making waves.

What was the point of fighting if the person I loved was about to be ripped away from me anyway?

Maybe leaving the school wasn't giving up.

Maybe it was the only way for us to survive.

Monday morning hit like a punch in the gut.

I groaned as I sat up, my whole body sore like I'd run a marathon in my sleep. For a moment, I just sat there in the half-light of the room, blinking at the pale square of sunlight peeking through the blinds. My mouth was dry. My chest was tight. My stomach ached with nerves.

I hadn't left the room once all weekend.

Not for meals. Not for the bathroom unless I absolutely had to. I'd survived off vending machine snacks, Vernors, and pieces of my soul.

I didn't know what was waiting out there. Not really.

What were the other students saying? Was everyone whispering behind my back?

Calling me a pervert , a deviant , a disgrace ? Was the whole school talking about how Nick Kincaid and Jack Thompson were caught "sleeping naked together" and how disgusting it was? Or were the rumors now growing even more absurd, like in that game "telephone" that we all played as little kids in elementary school? Maybe now, we had been caught using a leather harness hanging from the ceiling, peeing on each other, or dripping hot candle wax on each other's lily-white butts while chanting Satanic verses. Who the hell knew?

The thought made me nauseous.

Christian had said we had support. That a lot of people had our backs. Students. Faculty. The Rainbow-Straight Alliance. The Student Council. People were pissed, apparently. Ready to do something.

But… what could I do?

I was fifteen. Barely. And neither I nor my boyfriend were particularly emotionally stable at the moment.

I wasn't a leader. I wasn't loud or brave or political. I wasn't even especially good at talking in front of groups. I'd spent most of my life trying not to be noticed. Trying to survive school (and life) without making waves. I was the good kid, the quiet one, the rule-follower.

I didn't know how to fight, except for that one time playing tennis with my sort-of friend Tommy in middle school, I lost and had a very uncharacteristic reaction and threw my racket at him, then he punched me in the gut, and somehow we both ended up hugging and crying in the middle of the tennis court. I missed Tommy, the only one of my "old friends" that I still ever thought about from time to time.

I had never thought of myself as ever becoming some sort of "activist," gay or otherwise. But what kind of person would I be if I just folded and didn't stand up for myself or those I love. Maybe it was time to put on my "big boy pants" and try to get involved. If not for myself, then I sure as hell was going to fight for Jack, who wasn't in any condition to fight for himself at the moment.

Because what other choice did I have?

If I didn't fight back, Jack might not make it … literally. I was really scared of what he might do if things went badly for him with this.

He was still curled up on his bed, a blanket pulled up over his head, as still and silent as he'd been for the last two days. I kept checking to make sure he was breathing.

How was he supposed to go to class like this? Eat? Think? Just exist ? He hadn't been removed from our room yet, so in the last few days or hours that I had him, I would take care of him, comfort him, and fight for him.

And what about Jonah and Danny? What about the next pair of queer kids who got caught holding hands or making out in the wrong hallway at the wrong time? Were they gonna get slapped with the same humiliation?

Harrison West was supposed to be this progressive place. Forward-thinking. Inclusive. A school that valued diversity. They'd given me a scholarship, handed me a pamphlet with words like equity and belonging and safe space on the cover.

However, those weren't the values being defended at the moment.

Those were just buzzwords printed on glossy brochures to impress donors and would-be students and their parents.

And that… pissed me off.

Because they'd let me believe I was safe. They'd let all of us believe that.

And now they were punishing us for believing it.

I stood up, tugged on a pair of jeans and my softest hoodie, then crossed the room to Jack. I crouched beside the bed and gently touched his arm.

"Hey," I whispered. "You don't have to say anything. But I'm going to class today. And I'm going to fight back. I'm going to make sure you're safe, that no one takes you away from me, and that no one ever hurts you again. You're the love of my life, and you can count on me … always."

He didn't move. But I felt the tiniest twitch beneath my fingers.

I squeezed his hand, just once, and stood.

My legs were shaking, but I made myself walk out the door.

I didn't know what I was going to say yet. Or how I was going to say it. Or who I was going to even say it to.

But I was done hiding.

Even if my voice cracked. Even if my knees buckled. Even if nobody listened. Even if I embarrassed myself.

I was going to speak out.

Because someone had to.

And if it had to be me – quiet, awkward, anxious, rule-following me – then so be it.

I wasn't just fighting for myself anymore.

I was fighting for Jack. I was fighting for Jonah. I was fighting for Danny. And who knew how many more who couldn't fight for themselves?

"All it takes for evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing."

Let them try to shut me up.

Let them try to make me small.

I'd already been small for fifteen years.

Not anymore.

I had to find Christian and figure out what the plan was.

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