23. CHAPTER 23
Itook a seat in journalism class away from my friends, already committed to the plan that had formed overnight. In our usual corner, Bella’s brows pinched together, Lacy mouthed, 'What are you doing?' and Easton gave a mock salute like I’d gone off to war. This story wasn’t for them, though.
I typed and retyped for nearly an hour, barely lifting my fingers from the keyboard. When I was finished, a smile ripped across my face.
“Bella,” I said.
She looked up from whatever she was working on; I motioned for her to come over. She took a seat next to me before I handed her the Dell laptop.
Her eyes scanned my work, line by line. My knees bounced like they had minds of their own. Clutching my pen tighter, I willed myself to stay still and refused to look at her.
I knew she was done before she said anything; there was something in the way she breathed.
“Tanner,” she said softly, her eyes still on the screen. She looked up. “This is…brilliant.”
“Can you make sure it gets in the paper?”
“Front page.”
“Nobody sees it before we print,” I said.
“I won’t add it until the final draft,” she promised.
I walked into school two days later, knowing that today was the day. No more hiding. It had taken everything in me to write what I had, but now that I’d made the decision, I wasn’t turning back.
I made my way to my locker before Bella found me, the school newspaper in her hand. The paper was thin, maybe three pages deep.
The front page had a small photo of me in my baseball uniform, with the title I had worked on spread across the top.
Safe at Home
My name is Tanner Quinn. I’m a baseball player. I love my friends. I hate history class. I love pizza.
And I’m gay.
No, seriously.
This is the last article I’ll write before I graduate, and it’s the most truth I’ve ever put into words. For years, I’ve been too scared to show this side of me.
Scared that I’d be made fun of.
Scared that I’d lose my friends.
Scared of being who I am.
But when I got asked last week who I was going to prom with, I realized I was more scared of living in secret. Of going to dances and faking like I was into my dates (sorry, ladies!). Of acting like it didn’t hurt me when people made gay jokes.
I’m not writing this to get sympathy. I’m not writing this to ask for anything to change—just to say I’m done pretending.
I’m writing this so that everyone can realize that being gay isn’t just about crying at romantic movies and not liking baseball.
Even as I sit here with the days winding down in my senior year, I’m still nervous I’ll hit delete before I turn this in. My friends are looking at me like I’m crazy with how focused I am.
But I realized in a couple of weeks, this really won’t matter. So, I’m going out on my terms (pun very much intended).
I’m thankful that my family has been nothing short of amazing since I told them. My brothers and my parents act like nothing has changed. So, regardless of the reaction to this article, I know I’ll be safe at home.
Not everyone has that. I’m eternally grateful that I do.
To my teammates: this doesn’t change what the goal is. Hopefully, this changes nothing on the field for you, either. I also promise I want to date none of you because you’re all ugly, so hopefully that makes this news easier to swallow.
I’d never be able to say the words out loud to you guys, but I wanted you to know.
When I go to prom next week, I won’t be tagging along with a girl and acting like I’m in love.
I’ll be going by myself, a gay baseball player. I’ll be going as Tanner Quinn.
I finished reading and looked up at Bella, my eyebrows raised.
“You ready?” she asked.
I shrugged, but my hands twisted the edge of the paper tighter than I meant to. “Doesn’t matter now.”
“Tell me if I need to beat anybody’s ass.”
Normally, I hung out in the halls before the first bell, but not today.
I folded the paper and walked to math class, aware of conversations buzzing around me but hearing nothing.
My shirt felt a size too small; the sleeves had a stranglehold on my biceps.
I wished I had worn a hoodie so I could cover my head.
The classroom was dark and empty, the type of quiet that made me overthink. My footsteps echoed as I crossed to the back and sat down, and my heartbeat tapped behind my ribs. I pulled out my chair; the coolness of the seat was a stark contrast to the heat I felt throughout my body.
The door slammed open. Ricky barreled in, paper crushed in one fist. I froze, chest tightening, bracing for whatever came next.
“Tanner, what the fuck is this?” he said. He pushed his glasses up his nose hard enough I was afraid he was going to break the glass. He stared daggers at me, his whole body strained like he was ready to pounce.
My mind raced with what he might say. Would my best friend for a decade cut me off? Would he say he couldn’t stand the sight of me, that I disgusted him?
Then he finally opened his mouth and shattered my panic into pieces. “My best friend of a decade is gay, and not once has he made a move on me. This is unacceptable.”
It took me a second to realize what he’d said, and then my mouth hung open, followed by a laugh. “That’s what you’re mad about?”
“Damn right I’m mad! Am I not good-looking enough? Not enough style? What is it?” he said as he took his seat next to me.
“Shut it, Ricky,” I said, but I couldn’t stop the heat crawling up my neck or the grin tugging at the corner of my mouth.
He stopped talking for a moment, and other people started to file in.
“No one’s going to care, man,” he said, reaching out with a fist bump.
“I hope not.”
Math class crawled by without issue, but by lunch I was starting to get some looks as I walked from class to class. Namely from Erin McAllister, who ran off in a huff when I passed her in the hall.
As I strolled to the cafeteria, I felt a stiff hand on my shoulder. I turned and saw Silas and Maddux side by side.
“What’s up?" I said. I jammed my hands into my pockets and then tugged at my collar.
“You have a second?” Silas said.
“Sure.”
Students surged past us, but no one paid us any mind. A locker slammed somewhere close, making me jump.
Maddux spoke first. “We were talking earlier. About your article. And, uh, we just wanted to say sorry. If we ever said dumb stuff.”
Silas joined in next. “Yeah, we had no idea. I wouldn’t have made any gay jokes if I knew.”
I looked them over. “You shouldn’t make them anyway.” I didn’t mean for my voice to come out sharp, but it did.
They both nodded like they knew they deserved it.
“You’re right,” Maddux said. “We’ll stop.”
“Thanks, guys.”
They stood there like there was more to say. I tilted my head, trying to figure out what was coming next.
“Now it’s your turn to apologize,” Silas said.
Now I was confused. “For what?”
“You told the whole school we’re ugly. Not cool, man.”
By the time we hit the cafeteria doors, we were back to talking about our first playoff opponent like nothing had changed. But something had.