Page 67 of The Sun
I covered my mouth before grabbing his sweaty hand and lacing our fingers together.
“Students of Robertsdale High. I’m very saddened to be holding this assembly.” Principal Davis’ voice echoed into the silent gym. He paused, scanning the crowd like he was looking at each of us. “As some of you may be aware, last night one of our students assaulted a young man from Lockhart.” The room buzzed with whispers. “That student has been expelled.
I have been in the school system for thirty years, and while I understand the notion that kids will be kids and that there will be disagreements and rude remarks, what I refuse to understand is hate.”
Brandon squeezed my hand. My heart raced, so I could only imagine what his did. I rested my head on his shoulder and held on tighter to his hand, hoping he understood that I cared.
“Rumors were circulating that the young man who was assaulted was homosexual.” More gasps and hushed whispers. Brandon tensed beside me, and I closed my eyes. Aside from me, he was alone in this. No one else understood the turmoil that must have been tearing up his insides like an F-5 tornado.
“Those rumors and some people’s intolerance of differences is what allegedly led to the attack. The reason for this assembly today is for me to make clear that this school does not tolerate hate or discrimination. I will not tolerate it. You are dismissed.”
After school,Brandon and I went to Coconut Larry’s, a run-down burger joint on Gulf Shores Parkway. The fries tasted like fish, and the burgers were always undercooked.
We sat at one of the wobbly picnic tables out front. The traffic that whizzed by on the strip was completely ignorant to what had happened at our school, what had happened to Brandon and Travis, and how distraught and utterly helpless I felt.
A seagull perched on the empty table beside us, and I tossed a fry to it while Brandon stared absently at his plate. I wondered what went through his head. I worried how knowing your best friends so naively hated what you really were affected him, and I secretly hoped that someone would beat the absolute mess out of Thomas.
“It’s not a choice.”
I glanced up from my soda and nodded. “I know.”
The seagull scampered to our table, cocking its head and staring at me with one eye.
“That’s why you don’t feed them. They won’t go away.” Brandon tossed a fry to the concrete, and the seagull scarfed it down. “I wouldn’t choose this, you know.” He traced his finger over a crack in the concrete tabletop.
“I know you wouldn’t, Brandon.” Maybe this was heartache, this tug, this I-would-trade-places-with-you-beat thumping in my chest. And if it were, I would never live to be twenty, because, God, it was painful.
“Have you seen him?” I asked.
“No.” He took a sip of his drink, eyes down in thought.
I didn’t know the extent to Travis’ injuries, but it was enough that almost twenty-four hours later he remained hospitalized. And if that were Elias, I would want to be there. I grabbed my purse and pulled a twenty out, tossing it onto the table. “We should go.”
“We?”
“Yes.We.” I stood, and the seagull scurried beneath an empty table. “I’ll take you.”
“Sunny, I don’t know that’s such a good—”
“Let someone say something!” I felt my nostrils flare. It wasn’t fair that he had to be afraid to visit the person he loved in the hospital.
Brandon grabbed my hand, shaking his head as though he were trying to convince himself this wasn’t a good idea.
“It’s fine. I’m your girlfriend after all.”
The antiseptic smellof hospitals caused an involuntary sweat to break out on the back of my neck. It reminded me of being a terrified eight-year-old with blood streaming from her forehead when she had fallen off a jungle gym. Elias held one hand, and Momma held the other, while the doctor gave me stitches.Everythingsomehow came back to Elias.
I settled back in the plastic chair, watching strangers meander in and out of the waiting room with cups of coffee and peanut butter crackers from the vending machine. Some people wore stress on their face. Some managed to hide it in, but the constant bounce of their leg or wringing of their hands told a different story. I wondered what had happened to the person they cared about, and then I thought about Travis. Trying to comprehend why anyone would hurt another person over something as innate as love.I hate you because of who you love.It didn’t make sense to me, and I hoped that kind of hate didn’t make sense to a lot of people. I couldn’t think about what would happen to Brandon if it did.
The automatic doors caught my attention when they swung open. Brandon’s face was splotchy, and his eyes were bloodshot. He nodded toward the exit, and I stood up, meeting him at the elevators.
He looked fragile enough that even a hug may cause him to shatter like crystal.
I dragged the toe of my shoe over the tile while we waited. “Is he gonna be okay?”
“Yeah. Broken ribs. Punctured lung.” He inhaled just as the doors opened, and we stepped in.
“I’m sorry.”
