𝙄 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩

I spend all of the first period at our school guidance counsellor's office.

Personally, I didn't want to go, but the school forces you to every couple of months as they're trying to prevent mental health issues in the students or something. Today was my go, and it was a complete waste of time. We didn't talk about anything important, like anxiety and stress. Instead, the counsellor focussed on having a conversation with me about my favourite subjects and what my plans were for after high school.

I wanted to stop her and start discussing things that I did need to talk about. Although I was aching to do so, and I had that urge for the whole forty-five minutes I was sat opposite her, I couldn't do it. The words 'I have a problem and I need to talk about it' seemed impossible to form and often got stuck in my throat.

In the end, I said nothing of the sort and simply sat there as she went on about how I should become a professional artist as it's something that I'm evidently passionate about. The fact that I couldn't ask for help made me realise how difficult it is.

That's what makes what Alex said at the end of our tutoring session cut deeper. He threatened to make fun of my anxiety like it's something to be ashamed about, and it's exactly that shame that prevents people from getting help.

I used to see a therapist until the beginning of junior year. I stopped going because I got a car, and it was either therapy or that for financial reasons. My parents bought my older siblings a car the previous year, which they do have to share, so they couldn't afford both a car for me and the therapy sessions that I was going to. I did argue that I could just share Luca and Sofia's car, but three teenagers sharing one vehicle was destined to be a fail.

I chose the car, not because I wanted it more than I wanted the help, but because I wanted a reason to stop going to therapy. The shame I felt was the reason I wanted to stop. I liked the help, I was definitely grateful for it. I didn't like the embarrassment that came with it.

As I beat myself up about not speaking up about my important issues to the counsellor, I enter my English class.

I know there's no point going to the lesson as I've only got ten minutes left of it, but I know that if I were to get caught loitering the hallways, I'd get detention and then Alex would probably be at that detention. I don't have the energy for another of those confrontations.

"Look who it is!" Luke Maddison exclaims as soon as I'm through the door. "The walking talking pride parade!"

I want to roll my eyes at him, though I don't. I know he'd say something about it and start a whole thing that I'd be desperate to get out of, but would never get the chance to the whole time I'm in the class as he doesn't stop talking.

"Ooo, look, a gay comment." Cami says, letting out a gasp as she looks at me with wide eyes, mocking shock, "Matty, you were wrong. I don't think it's just Montgomery who's desperate not to appear gay. It's all of them. Oh my God, guys. Congrats on figuring it out." She squeals and claps her hands.

"Wait, Jenkins called you gay?" Mason Anderson asks, turning to Alex, who's focussed on scowling at Cami.

"Bro, you got owned by Jenkins. How do you feel?" Luke laughs, nudging Alex's shoulder. Alex's shoves him un-playfully, his irritation already growing. He seriously cannot control his emotions.

"Shut up, Maddison." Alex responds, head down and shoulders slightly hunched like he wants to avoid the conversation.

I don't feel proud of myself for this. I kind of feel bad for the comment I made in detention, but then again, Alex has said a lot worse to me. I know I shouldn't make a joke about being gay, really. I guess I have a pass to do it, though? I don't know if I am fully gay, but if I do know something, it's that I do have some sort of attraction to guys.

I wonder if he made the threat to humiliate me about my anxiety because he's butthurt about what I said to him. He didn't say anything about it during the tutoring session itself, probably due to wanting to do if for whatever reason he needed to do it for (the text conversation I had with him appeared desperate to me), so he found an opportunity to strike back nearer the end.

Having said that, if he really needed to do this whole tutoring malarkey, why would he mess it up? I don't get that at all. Why make a comment and risk me changing my tutor if he told me that he had to do it for a reason that he won't let me know about?

I'm also assuming he didn't tell his friends about it as they haven't made a comment. I haven't visibly told anyone of it all when he's around, Cami being the only person who knows alongside the family that I live with, so I suppose that's the reason why. I wouldn't put it past him to tell everyone anyway.

"Yeah, Montgomery," Cami starts, leaning across the desk nearer to Alex, giving him a sickly sweet smile, "How do you feel knowing that you didn't have the last word because, quite frankly, you had nothing to say?"

He grimaces. "All you need to know is that I'm not a queer, so you got that wrong. You seriously think you did something, didn't you, Jenkins?" He says back. His friends laugh as soon as the word 'queer' leaves his mouth. I almost feel bile rise in my throat. "You've got nothing to say?" He raises his eyebrow, waiting for my response.

I choose not to fight back, crossing my arms over my chest and looking at the whiteboard, away from him, simply replying with, "And what, entertain you with it? No, thanks."

"You're the queer one, not me." He mutters.

"I don't know your names, but you three at the front. I'm issuing you detention." The teacher sat at the front says after everything has went quiet, gesturing to Alex, Luke and Mason. It's only now that I realise we have a substitute teacher. I had been so focussed on Alex and his friends since I walked in that I hadn't even seen the teacher. I don't recognise her.

Both Luke and Mason look up at her in bewilderment. In contrast, Alex looks utterly bored, like he doesn't care one bit. That's not surprising in the slightest. The guy doesn't care about anyone or anything apart from himself. I almost expect to see a story about him on the news, reporting him as some sort of bad criminal in a few years. He lacks that much sympathy.

"What? Why us three? Mason and I didn't do anything. It's Alex who said that word." Luke says.

"You seem to think it's funny, though. If you would have looked around, you would have seen that you were the only ones laughing." The teacher says, and she's right. No one else laughed at Alex. Some of the people sat nearby who bothered to listen in raised their eyebrows once or more, but no sound of a snicker came from any of them. The rest of the class don't care and get on with their work.

I sit, stunned. No teacher has ever given a student detention for using a degrading remark, more so for laughing at the use of one. You would expect my school to have an active zero tolerance policy as it claims it does, but in reality, teachers don't care. They only do the visiting the guidance counsellor thing to look good, not out of care for the students.

"Yeah, but—"

"No ifs, no buts, no coconuts. I don't want to hear any of your lame excuses. This is my last day working as a substitute in this school as I'm moving away, and I'm probably never going to see you again. I'm going to take it as an opportunity to educate you guys on something as a lot of other teachers won't even think of doing so, OK?"

Luke mumbles something.

"Repeat that, please."

He gives her a dismissive hand wave, his expression falling to match Alex's, "I said whatever, do what you want."

"Great, thanks for the blessing," She says sarcastically, "I want you to listen to this. When someone uses oppressive language such as queer or the f-slur, laughing about it can hurt the person almost as much, if not, the same amount as the person who said the word does. This is because you see their hurt as amusement. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Thank you for the lesson. I promise not to be so mean next time." He retorts sardonically, and Mason laughs again. Alex isn't even listening to what is being said. He's instead getting on with the assigned work which I haven't made an effort to look at.

"I'm not done yet, kid." The teacher says, and it's apparent that this has irritated her further, "I'm assuming that you have no idea what it's like to be gay and have to go through life being told that you are not enough just because of who you love. Who somebody is attracted to doesn't affect your life in any way shape or form. It is not hurting you in the slightest, yet you go out of your way to hurt that minority. Why? What do you gain from that other than a quick laugh? Absolutely nothing. So it's beyond me why you think it's alright to call someone queer as an insult, and then laugh at them."

Her gaze turns to me, and as she realises that I've been listening in, she shoots me a small, reassuring smile. I hadn't noticed how tight my chest has gotten until she grinned at me. I feel a mixture of anxiety and gratitude as I smile back. She may not be fighting for me specifically, but she's standing up for a group I may identify myself with. It makes me feel good inside since this shows that people care enough to try to stop it.

Classrooms are a common place for the bullying of minority, and it also a common place where those victims are not stood up for. The silence of the teachers and students creates a situation where the bully thinks it's OK to continue. Knowing that the world does have people like this teacher makes me feel safer.

"I'm talking to you, kid." She states, changing her focus to Alex, "The one who said the word. Montgomery, right? I'd appreciate it if you would look at me while I say this instead of at your desk as if this doesn't go for you too. You're not cool, you know. The world doesn't revolve around you, and I understand that you think that you can do no wrong, but trust me, you really can, and you really did."

Alex finally looks up, regaining his cool composure as he says, "I thought it was OK to use the word. Gay people call themselves queer all the time. How are we supposed to know that we can't use it too?"

"Gay people call themselves queer. They have reclaimed the word for their own use. You have no right using the word, and you very much know that. I'm not stupid. I know that you used the word for the purpose of hurting Jenkins with it, or otherwise, you wouldn't have actually said it. You used it in the tone and context of an insult. There is no argument to say that it was said in a non-negative way. All the evidence goes against you. No one was even calling you gay, yet you felt the need to let everyone know that you are not one, like it would be a bad thing if you were."

Alex leans back in his chair with the end of his pen between his teeth. I silently hope that it explodes and stains them blue. He smirks, "I must ask. Are you gay yourself, Miss?"

The teacher scoffs at this, "It doesn't matter whether I'm gay or not, what I said does not differ in meaning regardless. The fact that you ask that instead of apologising for your actions both prove that what I said is true, and that you are a disgusting individual." As soon as she finishes her sentence, the bell rings, signalling the end of the class. "Now leave the classroom. I hope you soon see that you are in the wrong."

Alex wastes no time grabbing his stuff and exiting the classroom. The classroom is filled with a low murmur of whispers as everyone talks to their friends about what just happened, quiet enough that it's like they're scared to be heard speaking about such thing.

"Thanks a lot, Jenkins." Mason spits on his way out, and it's the first time he's said something. Luke leaves the classroom ahead of Mason, not giving me a second glance.

"He's very welcome, Anderson." Cami says for me, her hand coming to rest on my shoulder.

"You're such a crybaby. Like, grow a backbone. Jesus Christ." is the last thing he says before he's out of the room and down the hallway.

I'm not sure how I'm a crybaby as I did not ask for the help of the teacher, which goes to show that he has no argument. He knows that the teacher is right, and the only way he can deal with it, similarly to Alex, is to insult or change the subject. That goes to show that the opinions of homophobes are invalid and will lose the majority of the time. They won't win.

I tell Cami not to wait up for me so she leaves and I'm the only kid left in the classroom.

Hesitantly, I go up to the teacher's desk and clear my throat to get her attention as she's typing in something on the computer. From the expression on her face, I presume she's setting the detention for Alex and his friends. When she looks up from the screen, she grins at me.

"I just wanted to say thank you for what you said to them. I'm not—I don't know if—"

"Look, kid, I'm not asking what you are, so you don't need to tell me. Those guys—what they're doing is not right. It may seem small, and it may not get to you so much, but it will get to other people. Everyone reacts differently to things. Some people get hurt more easily, and that's why I tried to educate them." She tells me. The look in her eyes seem comforting to me, and I feel some of my anxiousness dissipating away. "Now, go. Forget me. Just don't forget what I said."

She does a shooing motion with her hand, and I back away. Once I'm by the door, I tell her "Thank you again."

"Hey," She calls, which automatically makes me pause, "Whatever you are, you're valid. OK?" I nod in response to this, turn on my feet, and exit the room.

I never knew how much I needed something like that before now. I've never actually had someone personally tell me that whatever I am, I'm valid. Of course, I've come across people online who say it in general to groups of people or communities. I've never had anyone say it to me individually, and that matters more to me because it let's me know that I'm being seen as a person, and not just who I am.

It lets me know that I'm more than what I identify with, and even though I don't know what that specifically is just yet, I'm still a questioning teenage boy who needs support. The giddiness that I feel right now is only temporary, and soon enough I will feel the awkwardness and confusion surrounding this again, so I intend to make the most of the good feeling by reminding myself that it's OK.

As I walk down the hallway, I feel a hand brush at my arm, alerting me that someone is trying to get my attention. I assume is Cami, but when I turn, I see Alex. My pretty much neutral expression falls completely, and I prepare myself for whatever insults he's going to throw at me as his form of retaliation for what just happened in class.

"Hey, I just wanted to check. When's our next session?" He asks, and I freeze. I can't believe he would ask something like that. I can't believe he thinks that I'm going to carry on with these sessions when he says those things to and about me.

"Excuse me?"

"What do you mean by excuse me? I was asking when our next session was. You know—tutoring? The thing we're being forced to do." He looks at me like I've lost my mind.

I shake my head slowly, "There's not going to be a next session."

"What?" and I seriously want to either punch him in the gut and run, or laugh in his face. I don't do either.

I try to keep calm but my anger seems to explode on me and I raise my voice as I say, "You're seriously asking me that after what just happened in there? And it's not even that. What you said to me after our last one was entirely horrible of you, Alex. I really don't want to be tutored by you."

"What, are you going to ask to change tutors or something?"

I genuinely don't understand why he's asking that like he doesn't expect it. How can someone ever say homophobic things to a person, and be horrible to them in general, and think that that person is going to be OK being alone in their company for at least an hour a week? That doesn't feel safe to me at all and I don't want to have to feel on edge every time. I already feel on edge around him anyway.

"Yes. Of course, I am." I say, and it comes out more snappy than I thought it would.

I don't feel at all bad for snapping at him. He deserves it, and I wish I had the confidence to stand up for myself more often. I think Alex is the only person I can confront as I'm so used to this. Even when I do, I still feel a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's like butterflies, but caused by something negative.

He runs a hand through his hair, and I can see I've gotten up his wick as he perceives that I'm not saying this because I can—I'm saying it because that's what I'm going to do. I can't understand this for the life of me as I watch him get increasingly vexed, saying, "Christ, our situation has nothing to do with this tutoring thing. We have to do this."

Alex has never had to do this. When it comes to tutoring, it's the person that needs to be tutored who has to do it, not the tutor. He thinks solely of himself only that he's now thinking things that aren't true. As far as I'm aware of, no one said he had to do it.

"I am the one who has to do it, you're not. And our situation has nothing to do with it? Are you serious? You threatened to humiliate me. Are you that stupid as to think that our situation doesn't affect it?"

I am now aware of how much I am using my hand to translate my frustration. I put them by my side and try to focus on steadying my breathing, which as become deeper from anxiety and indignation. It doesn't work because once Alex says his next comment, the ball of frustration inside me only rises.

"Yeah, I'm not the stupid one. You're the one with a D in chemistry."

"There's a difference between book smarts and street smarts, and it's clear that street smarts get you further in life. Your comeback proved my point entirely so well done." I say, my teeth almost gritted together. "I don't get why you want to tutor me so bad, anyway. You hate me. You literally called me queer not even five minutes ago and threatened me. What is your problem? Why are you so desperate to do it? It's me, for God's sake."

He should have registered that it's me he's supposed to tutor. He's supposed to hate just as much as I hate him, not get pissed at me for wanting to change my tutor to someone I'm much more civilised with. I understand why Mr Preston didn't choose Cami for the job, but I would even go as far to say that I'd prefer Mason Anderson right now.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a pained noise, "Look, it's a personal thing. I just have to, and I can't tell you why. Just don't ask to change tutors, OK? Or I swear to God—"

"Or you swear to God what? You're going to beat