My mom kept telling me to get new glasses. Maybe I should have listened to her. Maybe then I would've seen this coming.

Aw, who am I kidding? My closet wasn't big enough to hold me for this long.

And so it happened. My parents came home early and I didn't hear them because I was in an intense make out session with another boy. Then, ta-da, mom walks in and her holy little heart burst into flame at the sight of the homosexual sin that replaced her beloved son.

A week later, and here I was, being shipped off.

I looked out of the window, the car ride awkwardly tense. Everything around my parents had been awkwardly tense ever since they found out about my sexuality.

You see, my parents were good old fashioned Catholics. Mom thought piercings and tattoos were a work of the devil. Mom also thought that homosexuality was an unspeakable sin (um excuse me Ms. EatTenGallonsOfIceCreamANight, gluttony is one of the seven DEADLY sins, that's right mom, your late night snack is more sinful than my wet dreams).

After some careful consideration, they were dumping me off at Constance Academy. I didn't know much about that place other than the bad things.

From what I knew, Constance Academy was where you tossed your kid when you didn't know what else to do with them. Druggie? This is the academy for you! Alcoholic? Step right up and we'll fit you with a uniform! Troubles with the law before you're even 18? Oh boy, do we have a desk reserved for you, kiddo!

And this was where my parents were sending me. Because I like boys.

That's right, my mother carried me in her womb for nine months, birthed me, raised me all these years, and was now dropping me at the Academy for the troubled youth all because she saw my tongue in another man's mouth.

My bags were packed but I was beginning to realize that I'd left my dignity back home. This should be a fun time.

The Academy loomed into view as my dad rounded a turn. It was composed of several big brick buildings, elegant yet boring. It resided on a small campus that housed the students and offered a dining hall and recreation area.

I'd done almost no research on this place in the hopes that my parents wouldn't actually send me here. But they were convinced that it would be good for me and make me right in the head.

My dad parked on the campus and I reluctantly got out of the car, following my parents into the admissions building. I'd done my share of begging and pleading, but now I was at an awkward silence with my parents that was persistent.

Dad led us over to a desk with a woman sitting behind it, shuffling papers. She looked up at us and oh god I knew I was doomed.

She was wearing very formal clothing, all gray. She looked like she had never known real happiness and her smile was so artificial that I wanted to gag.

"We're here to sign in Killian O'Malley," dad said, gesturing me forward.

"I'll print out your schedule and get you a key to your dorm," the woman said, typing away at her computer.

A moment later she grabbed a paper as it printed out. She held it out to me and typed at her computer again before standing up and going over to a cabinet. She unlocked it and dug around, pulling out a key and a manila envelope.

She came over and handed both to me. "This is the key to your room, and inside the envelope is your ID card. You have to use that to get into your building and you can also swipe it at the dining halls and the vending machines. If your parents put money on it, you can use it buy things at the school market."

I moodily took the key and envelope from her. She handed my dad some paperwork, which he hastily filled out.

"I'll have someone show you to your classes, Mr. O'Malley. Class will be in session soon and we don't want you late on your first day. Your parents can move your stuff in. I'll have someone let them into the room," the woman said.

I turned to my parents. "Please leave our lord and savior Jesus Christ out of my bedroom."

"Killian!" mom said, glaring at me. "That's not funny."

"Sorry, sorry." I tucked the key securely into my pocket. "I have to get my school bag out of the car."

"We'll walk you there so we can say goodbye," mom said.

My parents followed me out of the admissions office. I grabbed my bag out of the car and slung it over my shoulder.

"There's still time to undo this and take me home," I said.

"It'll be good for you to go to school here," dad said.

"We're doing this for you, Killian. You need time to get yourself healed," mom said.

I highly doubted that dropping me at an Academy for the troubled youth was going to do that, but hey, whatever helped her sleep at night.

"Sure, mom," I said.

"We love you, Killian," mom said, holding her arms out to me.

I just eyed them. "If you loved me, you wouldn't be ditching me at a school where I'll probably get stabbed twelve times before first period is over."

"Killian, this is for your own good," dad said sternly. "We'll move your stuff into your room for you. You just try to work hard in class and...and..."

"And get right in the head and let Jesus heal my sinful gay ways," I said. "I got it, dad."

"Don't be rude," he said, crossing his arms.

"We'll call you later," mom said with a sigh.

I looked over and saw two people standing outside of the admissions office watching us. I moved past my parents and went up to them, stuffing the envelope in my bag.

"Are either of you taking me to my class?" I asked.

"Are you Killian O'Malley?" a man asked.

"That's me," I said.

"I'll be showing you to your class. I'm Mr. Redfield, I'm the head of the dorm building you'll be staying in." He held his hand out to me.

I reluctantly shook it. "Nice to meet you." It was anything but nice to meet this guy, but I guess I'd have to deal with it.

I didn't bother a glance at my parents as Mr. Redfield led me down the sidewalk and towards a cluster of buildings. He began to gesture at them.

"These are the class buildings. Certain students go to certain buildings for class. You'll be seeing most of the same people every day, so make a good impression," he said, holding out his hand. I gave him my schedule and he looked it over. He led me to one of the buildings and up the stairs, holding the door open for me.

"We try to keep classes fairly small so that teachers can work with everyone individually," he explained.

There were a few kids walking through the hallway or sitting down. They all watched us with knowing eyes.

"Your uniform will be in your room, but you'll be free to wear your normal clothes for today since we didn't have time to take you back to your dorm," he said.

He pushed open a door and led me into a classroom. Every head swung to look at me, a small gathering of teenagers all dressed in their Academy uniforms, eyeing me like hungry predators.

"Take a seat there," Mr. Redfield said, gesturing to an empty desk. He moved up to the front of the room to talk to the teacher there.

I sat at the desk, dropping my bag to the floor and trying not to look at anyone. God, this was so uncomfortable. I'd rather live the rest of my life with the sin of homosexuality than with the trauma of uncomfortable situations like being the new kid.

Mr. Redfield and the teacher moved towards the door together. The teacher stopped and eyed the students with hard eyes.

"I'm going to step out for a moment to speak with Mr. Redfield. You are all to do the assignment on the board," he said before stepping out and shutting the door.

"New meat," a guy said, letting out a whistle. "Tardy new meat. No time for your uniform, newbie?"

"I didn't jump out of bed and run to get here," I said.

"Sassy newbie," the guy said, laughing.

"He'll be broken of that by the end of the day."

Everyone looked over at the sound of the voice. A guy was leaning against the wall lazily, his eyes sweeping over everyone, lingering on me.

"Thought you were skipping again," the guy who called me newbie said.

"I knew you'd miss me, Pete," the other guy said, slinking into the room. He looked at the instructions written on the board and picked up the eraser, wiping away the words. He picked up a marker and scribbled on the board before dropping it the floor.

He walked away, dropping into the desk next to mine. On the board, he had written "The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven".

"Well, this is our new kid," Pete said, gesturing to me. "Newbie, what's your name?"

"Killian," I said.

"Look at him. Poor kid doesn't know what he's in for," a girl near me said. "Do you even know where you are?"

"Constance Academy. Unless the GPS failed and brought me to some other Academy," I said.

The guy next to me let out rich laughter. "Oh, man, he has no clue."

"What do you mean?" I asked in annoyance.

"Better tell him, Kaz," the girl said.

The guy next to me, Kaz, leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up onto the desk. He spread his arms, indicating the classroom.

"This is where they send problem children. When you don't know what else to do with your brat, you toss them in this shithole and make them someone else's problem. This is where they break you down until you're just a shell of a human, and then build you back up into a broken thing spewing out bible verses and conforming to what they want." A smirk spread over his face. "This is the place they send you if they hate who you are and want to convert you into someone else."

Okay, well, this certainly wasn't sounding pleasant. I looked around at the other students, but none of them were meeting my eyes. Some of them looked sad, some looked angry, and some just looked distant.

Kaz's smirk grew and he let his arms drop. "Welcome to Conversion Academy."

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A.N.- Surprise, late night posting of a new story. I can't promise that the updates for this will be consistent but I can promise that I'll try my best. Let me know what you guys think of this (admittedly short) first chapter!