Chapter 13
Oliver
Jennifer, Michelle and I are all seated at our usual lunch table, listening as Chris relays his weekend shenanigans.
I glance down at my watch. Things have shifted between me and Jennifer, and I don’t know if she needs time to get over what happened or if it has left a permanent scar on our friendship.
Either way, right now I’m more concerned about where Huxley is.
It’s already ten minutes into lunch break and he still hasn’t shown up.
Did I come on too strong this morning in my office? It was very unprofessional and inappropriate to kiss a colleague. Huxley did make it clear that us being together would make things complicated at work.
Maybe he’s changed his mind and decided to keep his distance. Panic hits me straight in the gut.
“Oliver? Oliver! Are you even listening?”
My head snaps up. “What? Sorry Michelle, too much on my mind. What were you saying?”
“I asked how many planning periods were allocated to you this term. All the classroom teachers seem to have one less than last year.”
“Oh, that doesn’t seem right. I have the same. But I always have more than the classroom teachers because of my extra commitments with the team sports.”
“Well, that’s fair, but legally they can’t take away teacher planning time, right?” Chris asks the group.
I try to remain focused on the conversation, but my attention keeps returning to the door, hoping Huxley will walk in.
Jennifer remains quieter than normal. When I turn to speak to Michelle, her eyes are already on me.
The vibe is making me uncomfortable, and I just want lunch to be over and done with.
The moment the warning bell rings, I say my goodbyes and rush off.
In the sports and science building, I detour past Huxley’s room, disappointed when I find it empty.
It’s not until I finish teaching the first afternoon period that I get a chance to text him.
Me: Hey Huxley – I missed you at lunch! Is everything okay? Was I out of line this morning?
I stare at the screen for a minute, hoping Huxley might have time to shoot off a quick text between classes, but none comes.
By the time the final bell rings, I practically jog to Huxley’s room, weaving madly between the students in the corridor.
Outside, I wait for the last two students to pack up their books as I witness a version of Huxley I haven’t seen before. On the first day I met him, I noticed how introverted and anxious he is, but what I’m seeing now is more than that. Something is not right.
Huxley’s shoulders are hunched over, his face blank, as if he’s completely zoned out. But there is also sadness, or possibly disappointment, emanating from him.
Once the two students leave, I walk in, almost making it to Huxley’s desk before he sees me. “Hey,” I say.
His eyes meet mine then instantly skitter away. “Hey,” he replies, voice flat.
“I missed you at lunch. Is everything okay? Did you get my text?”
Huxley begins stuffing student papers into a folder. “I did. I didn’t have time to reply. Sorry about lunch, I needed to do some planning for this afternoon. What I’d prepared wasn’t going to work, and I hate not being organised. I should have texted to let you know.”
I step closer and place my hands on the desk, trying to catch his gaze. “Hey Hux, it wasn’t because of this morning, was it?”
He looks up, eyes blinking as if only truly seeing me now. A small smile lifts at the corners of his mouth. “No, no, this morning was…”
A breath of air rushes out of me—something else has happened, then. I walk around to Huxley’s side of the desk then sit on the edge. Feeling brave, I pull on his tie, bringing him closer. “This morning was…?” I prompt.
Huxley smiles properly now, life coming back into his eyes. “This morning was fucking hot,” he whispers.
“Yeah, it was. I was thinking about it all day. It was distracting. You’re distracting.”
“Distracting in a good way, I hope?”
I lean forward and whisper in his ear. “The best way.”
I want to stay and flirt some more, but I need to get going. “I wish I could stay, but the footy team has training this afternoon. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Can we have lunch, just the two of us?”
Huxley nods. “Sure. I’d like that.”
Standing, I suppress the urge to kiss him. The students have all left, but a teacher could walk past at any time. “Okay, have a good night.”
“You too. Have fun coaching.”
“I’ll try,” I say, backing up before turning and heading out.
On the way to the oval, I replay our conversation. For sure Huxley was lying about having to work through lunch. I just have no idea why, or what is really bothering him. Hopefully, I can figure it out when we have lunch together tomorrow. Alone.
The following day, while waiting for the year twelve students to change for P.E.
class, I can’t stop smiling. In less than an hour, I’m going to have lunch with Huxley.
Last night, we exchanged a few flirty texts, and, at recess, we ran into each other in the teacher’s bathroom, where I couldn’t stop myself from planting a quick kiss on his lips, despite the risk.
The look of sheer joy on Huxley’s face has kept me on a high.
The male students are taking too long in the changeroom, so I head inside. I’m about to step into the open space when I overhear, “Heard about Mr. Sinclair?” It sounds like Troy, but I’m not certain. Something about his tone makes me pause.
“No, what?” another student asks.
“He’s a fucking fag. He’s wearing one of those bullshit rainbows on his jacket.”
I don’t wait to hear anymore: I stride in, my eyes scanning the room until they land on Troy. All the boys freeze and stare at me. “Was that you, Troy?” I yell, pointing at the boy. “Did you just use the f-slur?”
Jake, who is sitting beside Troy, stands up. “No, sir. It wasn’t Troy. Nobody said it. Troy said something like, where’s my effing bag.”
Troy rises to his feet, face so smug I know Jake is covering for him. “Yeah, I couldn’t find my bag, Mr. Turner.”
My heart jackhammers, fucking fury licking at my skin. I need to take a minute to pull myself together before I do or say something I’ll regret. Something that could get me fired.
I point at them again. “If I find out you’re lying, you’ll both be up for suspension.” Turning, I address the rest of the boys. “You’ve all got one minute to get out on the field. Then five laps.” I turn and storm out.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I say once I’m out of earshot.
There’s no way I can tell Huxley about this—he shouldn’t have to deal with this bullshit.
I can’t prove who said it, so it’s hard to take disciplinary action, but if I hear even another whisper of homophobia from Troy or Jake, I won’t hesitate to kick them off the team.
My breathing finally starts to slow, and I feel a little calmer, which is lucky because the boys start jogging laps around me.
Then a concerning thought hits. What if one of those boys are responsible for Huxley being upset? If I get time before lunch, I’ll access his teaching timetable and see if he had the year twelves yesterday morning.
I don’t arrive back at my office until after the lunch bell rings, and Huxley is already waiting. “Hey,” I say, closing the door behind me.
He stands. “I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.”
“Of course I don’t mind.” I close the distance between us and place a gentle kiss to his lips. “We should decide what we want to do on our Saturday night date.”
“Yeah, we should. But let’s eat first, you must be starving.”
We settle on opposites sides of the desk, and I start on my chicken and salad roll. Normally, I would devour it in a few bites, but, after what just happened, I’m not feeling all that hungry.
“You okay?” Huxley asks, eyes fixed intently on me.
“Yeah, everything’s great. Why?” Is my anger, my worry, written all over my face?
“Um…I don’t know. You normally eat faster, I guess. And your energy feels…different?”
Huxley poses it like a question, then looks down, pushing the fork around in his bowl of food.
“You know how it is. Some of the students were being little shits this morning and I was letting it get to me. I’m okay. Promise.” I give Huxley a smile, not wanting this to ruin our time together.
He nods, returning my smile. “I guess that’s part of the job. So, what would you like to do on Saturday?”
“I’m easy. Don’t really mind. I just want to spend time with you. We could go out to dinner first, so we can talk. And then we could catch a movie or do something silly like mini golf. Whatever you want.”
“Sounds perfect,” Huxley says. “Will we meet somewhere?”
“I thought I could come pick you up. How about 6:30?”
Huxley nods. “I’ll text you my address.”
We both take a bite of our lunches and chew in silence for a while. I need to find out if Troy and Jake are giving Huxley shit in class, but I’m not sure how to word it. The last thing I want is him finding out what they were saying behind his back.
“Hey, Huxley. Now that you’ve settled in, how are you finding the students? Are any of them giving you trouble or being disrespectful? I know how kids like to push the boundaries when they get a new teacher.”
He immediately looks down at his food again, breaking eye contact. “No, everything’s fine. Why would you ask?”
“Ah…just wondering because I’ve seen it happen to other new teachers, and you seemed upset yesterday. I wanted to make sure everything was going okay.”
Huxley looks up, a flash of anger behind his eyes. “I can handle myself, Oliver. You get used to putting up with shit when you’ve been bullied as a kid.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t saying you couldn’t. I know you can handle yourself.
But also, you shouldn’t put up with bad behaviour just because you’re used to it.
” Everything in the way Huxley is responding tells me something did happen yesterday.
But if he doesn’t want to talk about it, then that’s his choice, and I won’t push it.
An uncomfortable minute passes as we continue eating. This is not how I wanted lunch to go.
Huxley is the one to break the silence first. “If you decide you’re not straight and come out, how do you think you’ll react when you’re on the receiving end of discrimination?”
I place my roll down, somewhat taken aback. Huxley’s eyes are locked on mine, determined, as if he means to challenge me. Truthfully, I don’t know how I’ll react. What I do know is that I’m not looking forward to telling my brother.
Before I can respond, Huxley adds, “Or do you think everyone will still treat you the same?”
I blow out a puff of air. “Well…no, I don’t. And I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t worry me. I know how I feel when I see other people being discriminated against, but I’m not sure how I’ll take it when it’s directed at me. I don’t think I can know until I experience it.”
We stare at each other, and I think I’ve mis-stepped again. “Huxley, what I mean is, I think I’ll stand up and fight, but that’s not a judgement on anyone else. I haven’t lived it, and so I really can’t comment.”
Huxley’s shoulders relax, and his voice softens. “There’s a lot of bi-phobia out there, Oliver. And if that’s what you are, then it’s going to come with its own set of problems.”
I nod. “I think I am. Bi, that is. Does that bother you? That I might be bi and not gay.”
“No, of course not,” Huxley says, shaking his head. “You are who you are, and it’s okay if you’re still figuring it out. You don’t need to label yourself if you’re not ready.”
I reach across the desk and take Huxley’s hand. “You’re amazing. You know that, right?”
Much to my disappointment, the warning bell rings. We pack up and move to the door. Students can be heard on the other side, walking in the corridor.
Pulling Huxley into a hug, I hold him tightly to my chest. He really does fit perfectly in my arms, head tucked under my chin. “I’m really looking forward to Saturday night.”
“Me too. Pity it’s only Tuesday.”
I laugh—it was exactly what I was thinking too. A knock on the door startles us both, and we jump apart. We exchange a knowing look before I open the door, plastering on my teacher's face. It’s a student.
“Hi, Mr. Turner,” Sally says, before spotting Huxley behind me. “Oh hi, Mr. Sinclair.”
“I best get going,” Huxley says, squeezing past me and out the door.
I watch him get swallowed up in a sea of students before returning my attention to Sally. “How can I help you, Sally?” I barely listen to her, my mind still stuck on our conversation.