Here in this Sorrow

Anthony Byssel

I think that if Emily Mann and Robin Tyrell knew I was gay, they would never talk to me again, so I keep my secret. I can’t really stand either of them. All they ever have to talk about is themselves; their new clothes, their new haircuts, pathetically trying to sell themselves to me. I can’t stand their inane conversation. However, listening to them chirp for forty-five minutes a day is much better than getting my ass kicked by Jim Smitt and his buddies all the time. It’s pretty pathetic that two of the only people that hang out with me in this school only do so because they don’t realize they can’t have me.

I have study hall fifth period, and as usual, I sit in the back room of the library with Christian Duke. Contrary to popular belief, and quite unfortunately, Christian Duke is straight as an arrow. He is the only person in the school that I’ve told my secret to. When I moved here last year, all I heard were rumors that he was gay, him and Andy McCarthy. I came out to him, hoping they were true. At first, he was a little uncomfortable, but he got over it. I wish he was gay, because he is one of the nicest guys I’ve ever hung out with. I don’t spend much time with him, because Emily and Robin hate him, just like all their friends do. I don’t know why, I mean, he’s a little weird, but he’s really cool. He’s not like any of the other kids in the school.

We spend most of the period talking about music. He’s mainly into punk rock, and can list off a hundred bands I’ve never heard of. The only punk bands I know are the Sex Pistols, Green Day and Blink 182. Christian says that the Sex Pistols are okay, but the other two suck. I have to agree. I ask him if he likes Sugar Ray, because they are kind of punky, but he just looks at me and laughs.

I ask Christian about the band he was trying to put together, but he says he has pretty much given up on it. He tells me that some things have come up, but he won’t elaborate on what. He gets a little touchy when I push him on the issue, so I let it go. I’m kind of disappointed, because I met this guy who plays drums when I snuck into a gay bar down-town, and he was looking for a band. I tell Christian, but he says that after this week, he won’t have time for a band.

Every day, Christian wears shirts with the name “Misfits” on them. He says he is going to see them on Thursday. I was going to ask him to go to the party at Ashley Terrence’s house, but I don’t bother. I’ve never heard of the band before, so I ask what they sound like. He hands me the tape out of his walkman and tells me to keep it. He tells me he wanted to get a tattoo of the Crimson Ghost, but I don't know what that is.

We leave the library a few minutes before the period ends. That asshole, Warren Boyd is coming out of the classroom next door. There is no one in this entire school more obnoxious than Warren Boyd. He is the epitome of horrible individuals, and the biggest piece of white-trash I have ever met. If anyone has given me a hard time here, it’s Warren Boyd. He has this awful skin condition that covers his face with disgusting, crusty and leaking pimples. It’s like looking at some creature from a monster movie, I thought maybe that's what makes him so mean, but the other kids say he's been like that all his life.

Without saying a word, he grabs the tail of Christian’s trench coat and swings him around, knocking him to the ground. He turns on me and punches me in the shoulder. It doesn’t really hurt, but I pretend that it does so he won't hit me again. Christian gets back up, staring at Warren defiantly, but not saying anything. I’m really tense. I don’t want to fight, but if they start, I’ll have to help Christian.

“What’s going on?” Warren asks me. “Is this your new boyfriend?” He looks at Christian and spits, and Christian has to back up to avoid it. “What’s the matter, you don’t want to suck my dick any more?”

The thought of Warren Boyd’s crusty, diseased penis anywhere near me is enough to turn my stomach. The terrible things he has said to me, not even knowing that I really am gay, is enough to make me want to stay in the closet forever. I really think he is the most awful person I’ve ever met. We don’t get a chance to say anything before he starts laughing and goes to the end of the hall and down the stairs.

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