Take Me to Church (boyxboyxboy)✅

Chapter 14

Jeremy

Homophobia in school wasn't uncommon. Assuming it was just normal, I did my best to ignore it, pretending it didn't exist because I figured that's what I was supposed to do.

Throughout my high school career, I kept a low profile, as low as I could considering I was the star wide receiver on a full football scholarship. I tried extra hard to fit in as "one of the guys," following through with JT's pranks, doing what he said because that's what everyone else did. At the same time, I never quite fit in, I was never "one of the guys" since I was this poor white kid from Dorchester.

Up until recently, the homophobic slurs were never directed at me; at least, not that I noticed. In retrospect, I realized JT targeted Liam for a reason. I must have been completely oblivious because apparently everyone knew Liam had a thing for me.

Maybe I gave myself away when I told off JT and the others for talking shit about Nick. They didn't even know him; they knew nothing about him except for the fact he was gay and Morrie McGuiness's stepson and maybe he was notorious for getting in trouble, doing stupid things like painting the lockers. I couldn't stand to hear JT say shit like "they shouldn't let guys like him in this school" or "he deserves whatever he gets," whatever that meant. Just about losing my temper, I couldn't help myself and asked him what he meant by that comment. So much for keeping a low profile.

"You should know unless you're one of them, too," JT said. "Oh, wait, I believe you are one. Was your grandmother really sick or was it because you just couldn't stand to be touched by a girl?" To think I actually thought JT believed that story when he talked me into going to that girl's house. Before I had a chance to retaliate with either a "fuck off" or a shove or tackle, someone else got me. Dominick came out of nowhere, tackling me when I wasn't even close to being prepared. We were actually in-between drills. His tackle was more like a sucker punch while the coaches were congregating somewhere, not present on the field so it was more or less a free for all at the moment.

Caught completely off guard, I hard landed on my right knee, the same knee that took a beating over the years. Usually teammates helped other teammates up when they were knocked down. Not these assholes. As I staggered to my feet, JT knocked me back down. Face first in the dirt, numerous players took turns kicking me, stomping on me, kicking me again with their cleats. I counted five in total. One player even held the back of my neck, pinning me to the ground. No one did anything to stop these guys. At one point I really thought they were going to kill me.

"Stop! Let me go...stop it...get off me. Get off!" I screamed and cried as one of the guys attempted to pull my pants down. Fortunately, my pants were tied too tight so they couldn't get them down, but if the coach hadn't turned up, I was sure they would have gotten them down.

"What the hell is going on here?" Coach said, finally intervening.

"Just doing some drills," JT said.

"Oh really," Coach said. "Take four laps. All of you. Go...now."

As the entire team grumbled, jogging away from me, Coach helped me to my feet.

"Are you alright?" he asked. I was so shaken, I could barely see straight, let alone stand up. "What happened here?"

"Just a hard tackle," I said.

"Oh really? You know you're our best player. We can't afford for you to be injured. Who did this?"

"It was a rough tackle," I repeated. "I'm fine. I'll be fine. I...I...I just need to see the nurse, get an ice pack or something."