Chapter 9 #2
Colin looked around the circle, meeting as many eyes as he could. “I know this is heavy. I know it’s not fun to think about. But I’d rather you hear it from me now than learn it the hard way. Because I’ve seen the hard way, and it’s not something I want for any of you.”
He paused for a moment, then shrugged. “That’s it. That’s my pitch. Questions?”
No one spoke.
Then Emilio raised his hand.
“Yeah, Emilio?”
“What if someone you love is using? Like, what if you can’t stop them?”
Colin’s throat went tight. He swallowed, forcing his voice to stay steady.
“Then you tell an adult. A parent, a teacher, a counselor”—he gestured to Kyle—“someone who can help. Because you can’t save someone by yourself.
You can’t fix them. All you can do is make sure they know you care, and that there’s help available when they’re ready.
But in a situation like that, you need support.
For god’s sake, reach out. Don’t go through that alone. ”
Emilio nodded slowly, his eyes dropping to the floor.
Colin’s heart ached to say more, to pull Emilio aside, to promise him it could get better. But not here. Not now.
He caught Joshua’s eye, grateful to let him take over. “Your turn.”
Joshua stood and moved to the center of the circle, his movements slow and deliberate, giving everyone time to resettle after Colin’s talk. He could feel the weight in the room—not oppressive, but present.
“Thanks, Colin.” Joshua turned to the group, his voice softer. “That was a lot. Some of you are probably thinking, ‘Great, another adult here to lecture us about everything we’re doing wrong.’ I get it. But that’s not why we’re here.”
Jamie looked up, skeptical but listening.
“We’re here,” Joshua continued, “because we know what it’s like to be you. To feel alone. To feel like you’re the only person in the world going through something. To feel like you can’t talk to your parents, or your teachers, or your friends, because they won’t understand.”
He sat down in his chair, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. The posture was open, unthreatening.
“Colin and I got married six years ago,” Joshua said.
“But before that, we both spent a lot of years figuring out who we were. And it wasn’t easy.
I grew up in a small town—smaller than Farmville—and I didn’t know anyone else who was gay.
I thought I was broken. I thought something was wrong with me. ”
Daniela glanced at her sister. Marissa squeezed her hand.
“So, I hid,” Joshua said. “I pretended to be someone I wasn’t. And it sucked. It was exhausting and lonely and I was miserable. And the worst part was, I thought it would be like that forever.”
He paused, letting the quiet sit.
“But it wasn’t,” he said quietly. “I found people who understood. I found people who accepted me. I found Colin.” He smiled, just a little. “And my life got better. Not perfect—nobody’s life is perfect—but better. Good. Happy, even.”
Emma was looking at him now, really looking, her arms still wrapped tight around herself.
“So that’s why we’re here,” Joshua said. “Not to lecture you. Not to fix you. Just to tell you that whatever you’re going through, you’re not alone. And it gets better. I know that sounds like a cliché. But it’s true.”
He leaned back in his chair. “All right. The floor is yours. This is your space.”
Silence.
Joshua didn’t rush to fill it. He just waited, hands folded in his lap, eyes scanning the circle without pressure.
Thirty seconds passed. Then a minute.
Finally, Ben raised his hand.
“Yeah, Ben?”
Ben hesitated, adjusting his glasses. “How did you know? That you were… gay, I mean.”
Joshua smiled, not at the question, but at Ben’s courage.
“Honestly? I think I always did, somewhere inside. But I spent years trying to change it, or ignore it, or pretend I was like everyone else. It was only when I let myself stop fighting that I could really be honest—with myself, and then with others.”
Ben nodded, a little relieved.
“Do you feel like you know?” Joshua asked, gentle as sunlight.
Ben’s face colored. “Yeah. I just… I don’t know how to tell my parents.”
“That’s hard,” Joshua said. “And there’s no right or wrong way to do it.
Some people sit their parents down and have a big conversation.
Some people just start living their lives and let their parents figure it out.
Some people wait until they’re older and out of the house.
It depends on your situation, and what feels safe for you. ”
Kyle drew in a breath and leaned toward the group.
“I’d like to add at this point that I’ve been through this emotional meat grinder, and if any of you would like to talk about how to approach this confusing issue…
you’ll have my number, and I will always be there for you.
” He smiled at Ben. “We can figure it out.”
Several members of the circle nodded.
“What if our parents don’t accept it?” Ben asked, his voice small.
Joshua’s expression softened. “Then that’s on them, not you. You are who you are, and that’s not something you need to apologize for. But I also know that’s easier said than done when you’re living under their roof and relying on them for everything.”
He paused. “If you want to talk more about this—about how to navigate that conversation, or what to do if it goes badly—we can do that privately. Or you can set up a chat with Kyle. Today, tomorrow, or whenever you’re ready. Okay?”
Ben nodded, looking relieved, shooting a glance in Kyle’s direction and smiling when Kyle threw him a ‘thumbs up.’
Another silence. Then Emilio spoke, his voice rough. “What if you’re not sure? Like, what if you think you might be... something, but you’re not ready to put a label on it?”
“Then you don’t have to,” Joshua said immediately. “You don’t owe anyone a label. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. You’re allowed to explore, to question, to change your mind. Your identity is yours. Nobody else gets to define it for you.”
Emilio’s jaw unclenched, just a little.
Marissa raised her hand. “Do you ever get scared? Like, even now, being married and everything—do you ever get scared that someone’s going to hurt you because of who you are?”
Joshua hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Sometimes. Not as much as I used to,” he shot a soft smile Colin’s way.
“I’ve got a pretty protective husband. But it’s still there.
Depending on where we are, Colin and I are careful about where we hold hands and where we show affection in public.
We’ve had people yell slurs at us, and it’s not fun.
We’ve had people give us dirty looks. It’s better than it used to be, but it’s not perfect. ”
“Does it get easier?” Marissa asked.
“Yes,” Joshua said firmly. “It does. Because you get stronger. You build a community. You find people who have your back. And you learn that the people who hate you for being yourself aren’t worth your energy.”
Marissa nodded, blinking rapidly.
Alex shifted in his seat, then spoke up.
“I was really scared before I came to Camp Pride last year. Like, terrified. I didn’t know if anyone would accept me.
I didn’t know if I’d fit in. But then I got there, and everyone was just..
. normal. Like, we were all different, but we were all the same too, you know? ”
Jamie snorted. “That’s the corniest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Alex met Jamie’s eyes, unflinching. “Maybe. But, it’s still true.”
“It is true,” Nate added. “And for the record, Camp Pride is the least corny thing in the world. We literally had a talent show where people performed in drag. It was amazing.”
A few kids smiled. Even Jamie looked vaguely interested.
Joshua glanced at Colin, who was sitting quietly, watching Emma. She hadn’t said anything since her question earlier, but her eyes were on Joshua now, intent.
He let the quiet stretch for another beat, then said, “Before we move on… I want to ask you something.”
A few heads lifted.
“If you were going to come back here tomorrow,” he continued, “what would make this feel… easier? Safer? Better for you?”
He held up a hand. “You don’t have to answer out loud. You can if you want. Or you can just think about it.”
Jamie shifted in his chair. “Like what?”
“Anything,” Joshua said. “Less talking. More talking. Different topics. Rules that would help. Things that would make you actually want to be here.”
A pause. Then—
“No phones?” Marissa said, glancing at Jamie with a quick grin.
A ripple of laughter.
Jamie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Or maybe no judging people for being on their phones.”
“That’s fair,” Joshua said. “Both of those can be on the list.”
Ben adjusted his glasses. “Maybe… like… not having to talk unless you want to?”
“Already a rule,” Joshua said gently. “But we can say it again.”
Emilio shrugged. “Just… not being forced to say stuff.”
Joshua nodded. “Got it.”
Emma didn’t speak, but Colin saw her shoulders ease, just slightly. Her hand twitched, like she was thinking about raising it. But then she pulled it back into her lap and shook her head.
“All right,” Joshua said. “That’s okay. As I said, you don’t have to share if you’re not ready.
But if something comes up later—tonight, tomorrow, next week—you can always reach out.
We may not be here, but Kyle will be! He cares enough about all of you to create this safe circle, and he’ll be here for you long after we head back to Charlottesville. ”
He stood, nodding to Nate. “I’m going to turn it over to Nate now, who has a gift for you.”
Nate jumped up, practically vibrating with excitement. “Okay! So, tomorrow we’re doing creative journaling, which is basically one of my favorite things in the world. But today, I want to give you each a journal so you can start thinking about it now.”
He moved to his supply table and grabbed a stack of colored spiral notebooks and another of printed papers. He walked around the circle, offering each kid a notebook and a printout.