The Gay Gatsby

Chapter 17: Calla-Gay and Chance Fight the Forces of Evil (Teenagers)

But the nice ones were rare, being out-beaten by the hostile messages:

You guys are so gay, it's disgusting

You need Jesus. You need to cleanse yourself from your sins to refrain from becoming an abomination. Please visit Church this weekend and educate yourself. Otherwise you're going to hell.

Dude I can't believe that you're a fag now. Did you catch it from your midget boyfriend? Is it contagious or some shit? I guess that's why everyone is staying the fuck away from you. Serves you right.

I just loved how accepting high schoolers were.

As I folded open the paper on my desk, I was half expecting another practical joke/harassment. Though, the messy scrawl of the handwriting was immediately recognizable. Warmth rushed to my fingertips as I read the short sentence.

Why were you late? - Callaway

I snorted at the question, causing a couple of heads to spin around to glare at me for the noise. I ducked my head in abashment, as I wrote underneath the message.

Ms. Riley wanted to talk to me. I think she was concerned for my safety. - Cha

I attempted to hand the note over as discreetly as possible, but I had never quite been able to master the fine art of subtlety in my long 17 years. As I inched my hand to Callaway's desk, a blonde girl in front of me turned to glare at me, huffing as she saw the distinct exchange of notes. I shrugged at her, carefully setting the note on the cool wood of the desk.

I watched Callaway as his gaze scanned the short message. His stoic expression never wavered as he scratched out a response. The piece of paper met my gaze in mere seconds.

Why? Have you written any artistic pieces for class that might insinuate that you are not mentally/physically well? - Callaway

My lips quirked as I scribbled down a lengthy reply.

Not that I know of. Though, I did write a short story about being a shapeshifter and morphing into a DRAGON. But that's awesome, not deranged. No, but what I meant is that I think that Ms. R thinks that you'll murder me or something. She kept asking about how working with you was and if there were any problems. - Cha

I attempted to slide the paper across Callaway's desk, entirely lacking finesse as I dropped it on the floor. Callaway bore his eyes into mine, grimacing as he picked it up. His frown deported as his gaze scanned the white of the paper. He moved quickly, dragging his purple pen against the paper to reply. I watched him close the cap of his pen, finished with his writing. I held out my hand towards him and felt the coldness of his fingers against mine as the paper was pushed into my palm.

I squinted at the messy handwriting.

Unsurprising. An elevated portion of the staff is aware of my abnormal conditions. A few frets are to be expected. I suggest that you refrain from returning to class for a bit so I can feign your murder. That would be enjoyable. I can almost visualize the headlines now: "A Chance of a lifetime lost; Golden- boy Chance Andrews is murdered with nothing more than a dildo and a spoon." - Callaway

I had to slap a hand over my mouth to prevent laughter from escaping. Even so, I was unsuccessful. My eyes widened in terror as I realized the volume of the laugh I had dropped from my lips.

At the bright sound, all the faces within the classroom whipped towards me, including that of Mr. Franklin.

"Is something funny, Mr. Andrews?" The teacher scowled at me, lines wrinkling across his forehead.