Chapter One

The kid behind Kim bumped him as he pushed past, making Kim knock his knees against the desk in front.

"So sorry, queer," the jock said. "Next time, get out of the fuckin’ way."

This was what school was like: calculus and isolation and gut-wrenching fear. Was he about to become a victim of high-school violence? Kim straightened his shoulders and said, "Fuck off."

The next kid nudged Kim in the back. "You fuck off to homo club, you fucking fairy."

Kim could feel the teacher’s gaze on the three of them, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not; there was no guarantee the teacher wouldn’t decide she hated queers too; and metal detectors wouldn’t stop a ceramic knife.

"Be glad I’m gay," Kim said in a low voice to the second kid. "Because otherwise I’d be fucking your girlfriend."

There was venom in the stare the kid gave Kim, and Kim grabbed his books and pushed his way through the crowd at the classroom door, trying to get away before someone else decided to join in.

It was true, too. Once the girls had realized the smooth-faced pretty boy with the crew cut and the neatly-pressed clothes was gay, they’d adopted him, taking him to the mall on shopping expeditions and trying to get him to talk about his love life. Initially, Kim had been glad of the acceptance and friendship, but he had come to realize that having to listen to four female seniors agonizing over eyebrow-plucking was possibly not worth it. Then there had been the terrifying moment when two of the girls had tried to feel him up. Kim was sure he could have slept with both of them if he’d wanted to; if the whole experience hadn’t horrified him.

Allie, a baby-dyke senior, was waiting outside the classroom for Kim, and he smiled at her, profoundly relieved to see a friendly face.

"’S okay if I walk to CLAG with you?" Allie asked him, and they began to elbow their way down the hall.

"Sure," Kim said. "That’d be cool."

CLAG was the Coalition of Lesbians and Gays, a student club. Though stupidly named, it was another one of the things that had made Kim think that changing to Vernon High would be a good idea. At least the school acknowledged it had queer students, and gave them a space to meet once a week, along with an occasional excursion. One hour a week didn’t really make up for the seething hatred that surrounded him the rest of the time, though.

And there were Rules, lots of them. It was hard not to suspect that the rules were there to stop the kids from really doing anything to confront the homophobia in the school. Confidentiality was one thing, but it was forbidden to ever talk about anything outside of the club, or even to let on that you knew someone was a member. Kim knew enough union politics through his step-dad to be suspicious of not being allowed to organize in any meaningful way. Then, you weren’t allowed to miss more than three meetings in a row. So, it was secret, and it was compulsory.

Allie pushed open the door of the classroom allocated to the club, and Kim found himself cheering up anyway: something about knowing that today he could eat his sandwich safely, that he could chat with Allie and some other gay kids.

It was senior year, Kim told himself. It was nearly over. This time next year, he would be in college, and college would be completely different. No secret club meetings, no isolation, no hatred. It would all be better.

Continued in First Section