I couldn't sit still as we waited outside the principal's office. My leg bounced up and down as I snuck quick glances at the door. My parents sat on either side of me. Explaining the situation to the principal was bad enough, but my father had my phone in his pocket. I loved them, but god, I wished they had left it at home.

The door opened.

Mr. Grant smiled at us. "Come on in."

Jumping up, I hurried into the room with my head bowed. I took the farthest of the three chairs in front of his desk and glued my eyes to the floor. My parents shook the principal's hand and did the usual greetings. They sat down calmly while I was starting to sweat. I felt sick. I felt nauseous anytime I had to talk about my sexuality.

"So," breathed Mr. Grant, leaning over his desk with his hands clasped on top. "Aden, we had an incident that we need to discuss."

I squirmed in my seat. "Yeah."

"Aden, you've never had a problem getting along with other students. You've never even been sent to the principal's office before. I've talked with Chris, and now, I want to hear what you have to say."

I shrugged. "I'm sorry."

Mr. Grant sighed.

I glanced at my parents, wanting them to take the lead. Neither showed any signs of saying a thing and waited for me to explain what happened that day.

Clenching my jaw, I scratched at the design on the chair's armrest. "He found out that I'm gay," I whispered, turning to the window. "He said some stuff."

"Aden," said Mr. Grant with a smile. "My job is to make sure the school is a safe environment for all students, no matter their sexual orientation. Chris did admit to joking around and said some things teasingly to you." He sat up straight in his chair. "I understand how this could come across differently to you. I will talk to him later and explain that some words, even when said in a joking manner, are not okay. But you, Mr. Perri,"—he locked eyes with me—"I do not want you engaging in any kind of physical violence again. If there is another problem, you come to me. You're a good kid. I don't want to have to suspend you again."

I shook my head. "I won't."

"Good." He turned to my parents. "There's one more problem that we need to address." Reaching into his desk, he took out a couple of pamphlets.

I sat up to get a look at them.

"These are local tutoring programs that the county offers high school students. I understand you've been under stress lately, Aden, but you're failing math. In order for him to graduate, he has to pass that class."

Sinking into my seat, I groaned. "I don't want a tutor."

"You're getting one, anyway," said my mother plainly as she picked them up and handed some to my father.

"I've spoken with Mr. Phillips." He picked up a file from the floor and set it on his desk. "We're going to allow Aden to redo all his past assignments and retake the test."

Covering my face, I groaned. "I'd rather take the zeros."

"That's enough, Aden." My mother tapped my leg. "Mope and whine all you want, but you will redo each and every one"—she held up a pamphlet—"with your new tutor."

Mr. Grant scribbled down some stuff on a notepad. "We will contact them and arrange it for you." He stood and offered his hand to me.

I rose to my feet and shook it. "Thanks," I breathed before trudging off toward the door.

My father grabbed my arm and pulled me to him. "Head to class. We're going to discuss some other things with Mr. Grant. Alright?"

I nodded. "'kay."

I slipped outside and closed the door behind me. Leaning against it, I heard my father's voice. The phrase 'text messages' stood out. I should have deleted the whole damn memory before I let him have it. I marched out of the office and past the secretary. She tried to stop me to give me a tardy note, but I kept on walking. I didn't want to go to class right now. I needed to be alone.

Slipping into the nearest bathroom, I went to the counter. The one person inside finished drying their hands. I watched him leave through the mirror before glancing at myself. I hadn't slept well, and it was showing. The bags under my eyes were pretty prominent. Turning on the faucet, I dipped my hands under and rubbed cold water on my face.

Footsteps sounded against the tile. I turned toward the door to see Chris typing on his phone. I turned off the water and wiped my face on my sleeve.

"What have you been up to, Aden?" He slipped his phone into his pocket.

I shook my head. "Nothing."

"I saw your parents."

I backed up against the wall. "They came to talk to the principal about what happened last week."

Chris shook his head. The bruise on the side of his face was still visible. "That cheap shot you took?"

Staring at the stalls, I clenched my jaw. "Look, I'm sorry, alright, but you didn't have to tell the whole school."

Chris shrugged. "Why shouldn't I warn everyone that there's a fag? I would want to know."

I glared at him. "Why? You only attract slutty, cheating girlfriends. There's not a gay in this country that would want anything to do with you. I sure don't."

My eyes went wide when Chris grabbed the front of my shirt and slammed me against the wall. His fist plowed into my stomach. I buckled over and gagged.

"We're going to clear some things up." He glanced at the door. "You don't talk to me. You don't look at me. You stay the hell away from me and everyone else. Am I clear?"

Nodding, I struggled to breathe.

"I'm not going to let a faggot ruin things, so stay out of the way and keep your mouth shut. Alright?"

"'kay," I breathed.

He stepped back and smoothed out his jacket. "Open that cock sucking mouth of yours again, and I'll slam my fist down your throat. But then again, you might like that too much." Chris rubbed his knuckles. "You'll be keeping this and anything else that happens between us until the end of the year. My family owns this town, and to be honest, no one is going to take the side of a homo. No matter how much your mother begs."

I clenched my jaw but remained silent.

"Watch yourself, Aden." He turned and left the bathroom.

Gritting my teeth, I wanted to scream. I hated him. This was the true Chris. Standing in front of the mirror, I lifted my shirt. The red outline of his fist was already forming.

"Damn it."

I pulled a bunch of paper towels out of the dispenser and doused them in water. Gently pressing them against the mark, I hoped it would keep the swelling down or at least dull the pain. I was never going to punch someone twice my size again. Lesson learned, lesson clearly learned.