Ah, sophomore year of marching band. Good enough at color guard to not stand out to the judges because I won't be making as many mistakes this year, but not good enough yet to teach it to someone else. I've always had that feeling that our guard instructor, Ms. Pamela, doesn't like me or has some kind of judgement against me. Is it because I'm a boy in guard and it's seen as too feminine for me? And it makes me a target for a slur? At least that's what my parents think. I feel like I'm just wasting their energy and ruining their lives by making them drive me here to practice and back. God I need my license.
          At one practice after Shawn and "the boys" were being rude to Renae, I showed up to practice at five p.m. (when summer practices start) in tears because my dad had literally scolded me the whole drive here. "Boy, you need to quit this girly guard thing," he said. "Emphasis on the BOY. I don't want any sissy boys to live in my house. Nor do we want them ruining and diseasing the band, or pretending to be girls. Just quit!"
          "No," I declared.
          "Fine. Just wait until all your friends get sick with your homosexuality," he then pushed me out of the front passenger seat after I opened the door, and I fell on the grass next to the back band room parking lot. First of all, I'm not even gay; I'm bi. It rained last night, too, so I got covered in some dirt on one side of my body.
          When I picked myself up off the ground, some people laughed at the mud stain on my shirt and shorts. Brooke Vixem (this year's guard captain), however, walked over to me and asked, "are you okay, Darien? What happened?"
          "My dad happened," I sighed as my eyes got watery. "Again."
          "Oh, him. I'm so sorry. You want me to help get you cleaned up?"
          "Nah, I'll be fine for now. Thanks though."
          "You know, Darien, it's okay to dislike your dad and not listen to him. Please keep doing what you're doing. Ms. Pamela will eventually learn to love seeing you out there. You're doing amazing, kid!"
          "Thanks again, Brookie. Any time I can have away from him is a good time."
          "I get ya."

And then, practice started. "Hi, guard. Newbies, you know drop spins, swoop spins, and around-the-world spins. Let's see how those are going," Ms. Pamela introduced us. "Go to right shoulders, then Brooke, count them off."
          Brooke then started clapping, "nothing, two, three four-" And we spun.
          "Darien, you're pretty good," said co-captain Aria Pullen after practicing the spins, "for a boy." Brooke gave her a dirty look.
          "I'm about to fire you from your position as co-captain, Aria," she bellowed.
          "Hey, Brooke, only I have that responsibility!" shouted Ms. Pamela. "And I might fire you. We'll talk about it later." Ms. Pamela then walked inside to the band room to do whatever.
          The rest of the guard's section practice went on for another hour or so, as we taught the newbies more advanced spins and different kinds of dance-runs and dance-walks. "Flaunt it, boy!" Aria exclaimed, sarcastically with a clap. I just kept listening to her and being me. I could care less anymore... or so I thought. It still hurt but pretended that it didn't.
          "Go, Darien, go! I think you're doing amazing. Don't listen to Aria, man. You're awesome," said Vanessa Arlington, defending me. People are finally brave enough to speak up and defend me, even after all of last year when I was just a small, scared freshman? Because Brooke is actually a good captain who cares. So, I did keep going.

The new freshman boy behind me, windowing me and Vanessa, looked back at me as if I was some hero or God. "Glad to know I'm not alone anymore, Darien," he said to me. I think his name was Cameron or something. I smiled back at him as Alex called us over to come to the field to practice marching. I wasn't alone anymore, either.
          During a water break, Brooke, Orlando, and Vanessa approached me. "Hey Darien, do you want to go to McDonald's and act like idiots at Walmart with us tonight after practice?" asked Brooke. "I can give you a ride home too."
          I suddenly beamed and nodded excitedly. "I would love to. Let me see if it's okay with my dad though." So, I texted my dad to ask him.
          The second it sent, Dad got back with me and answered, "as long as those friends of yours are telling you to be more manly and to follow God."
          I showed my friends the response and laughed hysterically with them. "Just lie to him," Orlando suggested. "As long as it keeps you away from him. We'll be out late so you won't have to be home until after your parents are asleep."
          The four of us smirked and nodded at each other, which I knew was my cue to tell a lie to my Dad. "They will, don't worry. Thanks, Dad."
          "See ya," he texted back.
          "He let you go, Darien!" exclaimed Vanessa.
          The four of us all cheered with each other for our night out. For a moment, I had hope that other band people wouldn't hear me without shaming me, but Shawn and Semira overheard us. "You should buy a Bible there, Darien," says Semira.
          "Yeah, Darien. Your dad is right about everything he's ever said about you!" shouted Shawn from behind me. No words, just pats on the back and comforting sympathetic looks from my friend group for tonight just before it was time to get back to practice.

After practice that night was probably the best night of my life so far. The four of us shared some warm chicken nuggets and fries and all drank strawberry milkshakes from McDonald's while sitting in Brooke and Orlando's car at the overlook next to the restaurant, gazing at the beautiful night sky. After we were done eating, we continued to laugh the rest of the evening as we ran around Walmart, acting like total idiots. Children. We played with the toys in the giant plush toy bin, almost jumping in them, and even ended up buying some Squishmallows. In the sports section, we threw around bouncy balls.
          And when they dropped me off at my house, it was eleven-thirty in the evening. The lights were out and my parents were already asleep. Apparently, my only friends, the only people in my life who support and accept me, are "bad influences." Ugh. And I absolutely cannot wait to get my ass beaten in the morning as soon as I get out of bed. Ugh.