Page 50 of Pride High 3: Yellow
“Yes way. Just wait until we get some carbs into you. That’ll change your tune. Speaking of which, can you sing?”
“NO!” Mindy said in horror as her friend dragged her away.
But at least she wasn’t thinking of creepy boys anymore.
— — —
“Did you read it?”
These were the first words out of his mouth when Anthony met his best friend for their walk to school. Ever since he’d given the article to Omar, the anticipation had been driving him crazy. This wasn’t a simple music review or some other journalism assignment. Anthony had written from the heart, which would break if his coming out article had sat forgotten all night.
“Hell yeah, I read it!” Omar said. “It’s fucking awesome!”
“You really think so?”
Omar nodded as they continued down the sidewalk. “Yeah, man! I’ve always known that you’re a badass, but I didn’t realize how brave you’ve gotta be. Like how you take a risk each time you hold Cameron’s hand in public. You guys could get beaten up! And you’re right, straight people never worry about that sort of thing. We don’t have to.”
Anthony felt buoyed by his friend’s enthusiasm. “Did you get the part about how it feels to be gay?”
“Yeah, and I wasn’t expecting that either. “ Omar’s brow furrowed. “I always figured that you’d feel different inside somehow. But from your perspective, you’re just like everyone else until people remind you that you’re not.”
“Exactly,” Anthony said. “When I was still in the closet, I was hyper focused on everything that made me different so I could try to suppress it. Now that I’ve accepted myself, everything has clicked into place and I often forget that I’m gay at all.”
“That part made me laugh,” Omar said with a grin. “How could you forget?”
“I honestly do,” Anthony said. “When people look at us funny or call us names, that’s the only time I remember.”
“Crazy. I also liked the stuff about how nobody wants to get picked on, even for attention. When you have the reader choose something about themselves that they would change but can’t, and then ask them to imagine strangers hating them for it… Eye-opening stuff, man.”
“What did you choose?” Anthony asked.
“To change about myself?” Omar asked before looking vulnerable. “I wish I was smarter. Like you are.”
Anthony scoffed. “I might get better grades, but that doesn’t mean I’m smarter. Do you really think we’re going to write in cursive as adults or need to know the capital of Liechtenstein? And why bother doing math by hand when everyone owns a calculator? They teach all sorts of useless stuff at school.”
“Not this though.” Omar dug in his backpack and returned Anthony’s article to him. “Are you going to ask Mr. Finnegan to publish it?”
“Yeah. I’m scared as hell but not doing it is somehow worse. I want to tell people who I am instead of the other way around.”
“I bet you make the front page,” Omar said.
“I bet you win an Oscar,” Anthony replied. “I mean it. You’ve got talent.”
“So do you. I’m gonna hire you to write all my movies.”
They fantasized about their dream careers while they walked. When they finally entered their journalism classroom, they saw Mr. Finnegan seated at his desk. Anthony gave him the handwritten article, which was protected by a plastic sleeve. Was that too much?
“This is the personal story I told you about,” Anthony explained. “It’s not for a grade. I’d just really like it to be included in the school paper. If possible.”
“Interesting,” Mr. Finnegan said. “I’ll put it on the slush pile.”
“The what?”
“That’s an industry term for unsolicited submissions.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll get back to you.” Mr. Finnegan said pointedly when Anthony didn’t move.
