Content warning: Homophobia and homophobic slurs present in this chapter.
Authors Note: Alright this marks my tenth chapter that has been updated every week in a row. It also marks my 50,000th word in this story!
But with that, I have to inform you that my updates will be less frequent now due to the fact that I am starting school again on Monday. I apologize for this, but it's inevitable. Unfortunately, I have a life other than this story and it's about to get a lot busier. I hope you guys will understand!
Chapters will probably be posted every two weeks now, unless I notify otherwise!
Okay, enough rambling, enjoy!
Chapter 17: Calla-Gay and Chance Fight the Forces of Evil (Teenagers)
"Calmness wasn't an end in itself."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Chance
I stood expectantly by Ms. Riley's desk on Monday. I watched as students filed out the door of the classroom.
A few people smiled at me as they caught my eye. Though, most looked at me for a moment before abruptly turning away, frown imminent on their lips. It was unsettling, but I knew it was largely due to the drastic decrease of my social status within the past week.
People had continued the rumors about me and Callaway, but somehow they had gotten worse. Not only did people believe that Callaway and I were in secret homosexual relationship, but people had begun to believe that we were in a polyamorous relationship with Aly; some type of screwed up threesome.
Why anyone would think that was beyond my comprehension, but it was incredibly disturbing. I figured that the rumor was relatively new. It was probably ignited by the fact that Aly had sat with Callaway and I at lunch.
The three of us had sat near the rear of the cafeteria, hoping that we wouldn't get unwarranted attention. Which failed. The whispers of the students had us encased like bodies in a casket, and my skin had itched with the distinct glare of the peers surrounding me.
It had been awful. Even ignoring the fact that Aly had been talking at Callaway nonstop for the entirety of the lunch hour. She had questioned Callaway endlessly on inane subjects in an attempt at friendliness. And Callaway had had none of it.
"What do you want to do when you're older?"
"Not die."
"What's your brother like?"
"Dick-ish."
"What's your favorite class?"
"The Bourgeoisie."
"What's your favorite color?"
"You're joking, right?"
"No, tell me your favorite color."
"Fine. Period blood red."
Unsurprisingly, Aly had looked horrified at that and had discontinued her inquiring.
So all in all, lunch had been quite terrible, but mildly entertaining. I was almost glad to be in English class talking to Ms. Riley.
I tapped my foot absently as I waited for her to "speak with me privately."
I surveyed as she fumbled with some papers on her desk, scratching at them with a pen. And judging by the mild expression of terror on her face, I presumed she was correcting the essays for 'The Great Gatsby'. The one that Callaway and I had refrained from writing, thus igniting our unconventional friendship.
After completing her marking, Ms. Riley turned to me, artificial smile plastering her lips.
"Chance, how have you been doing?" She chirped, closing the previously opened laptop in front of her.
"Fine, I suppose," I answered with honesty. "I'm excited that winter break is coming in 2 weeks."
"As am I," she laughed to herself. "But what I was really meaning to ask is - how is the project with Callaway going?"
"Pretty well, actually." I shrugged. "We're already done our first draft and I've started the visual aid thing."
Ms. Riley nodded stiffly. "That's reassuring. And uh - how is working with Callaway?"
Oh, that's what this was about.
"It's great. He's really smart and a generally interesting person."
I smiled at myself. Yeah, definitely interesting.
Ms. Riley frowned at my admittance. "And you two are getting along well? There better not be any issues in presenting the project on the assigned due date."
"We've been getting along fine. I like to think that we've become close friends even." I bit my lip, trying to restrain form grinning. "And I assure you there will be no delay in presenting our project for you and the class."
She smile thinly at the reassurance. "Good. I'll have you know that I expect a lot from you, considering your distinct inability to complete the essay I had assigned. I will not accept a mediocre project, Chance."
"And you won't get one, Ms. Riley."
And with that, I fled the class. I flew past the familiar students peppered around the hallways, ignoring them as I sped to my Pre-Calc class. On normal days, I got to class the second the bell rang; late enough to be comfortable, but early enough to not get chastised. Though today, my discussion with Ms. Riley had me later than usual, causing me to get to class a minute after the bell. I walked through the door, muttering an apology to Mr. Franklin, who only shook his head at me.
I stalked over to back of the room, sliding into a desk as I set my notebook and pen in front of me. I could hear a hushed murmuring around me, which was expected. Sitting in the back was not abnormal for me, but sitting beside Callaway was unheard of - for any student. Assigned seating was rare for seniors, and so people took advantage of that fact. Students sat close to the people they liked and sat far away from those they disliked. Callaway was one of the lucky few to be widely disliked around the school. Therefore he was always awarded by being surrounded by empty desks, no matter which class he was in.
That was until a few days ago, anyway. Nowadays, I always took the liberty of sitting right beside him. We hardly talked, but I found that I liked his silent company more than the company of the boisterous teenage boys I was used to.
I was surprised that I got a curt nod from him today, usually my arrival was met with a frown. I beamed back at him before beginning to to scribble down the notes written on the blackboard.
I had finished writing the second last sentence when I noticed a small folded paper in the line of my vision. My eyes widened at it. I was used to getting notes in class, like most teenagers were. Zander had passed them to me almost every Biology class, but Zander wasn't in my Pre-Calculus class.
I wouldn't have been surprised if it was another poke at my supposed relations with Callaway. I had gotten a couple of those. Some were quite harmless, and sometimes endearing:
Callaway and Chance 5ever!
Chanway is my OTP.
Just have sex with Callaway already omfg. You already have eyesex all the time, save us from the sexual tension.
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.
I tried to conceal my laughter with an awkward cough, but it was too late. Mr. Franklin did not look happy about my interruption and inexcusably terrible attempt to hide it.
"Mr. Andrews," Mr. Franklin still stood in the front of the classroom, but his voice felt like it was right beside me as it penetrated the air. "What's was so funny?"
Every sliver of intelligence flew from my mind, as I stared at my teacher. My mouth gaped but no words formed upon it.
___________
Callaway
Chance wasn't the most astute.
That was a fact that was completely indisputable to anybody, but he was in no way stupid. Though I began to grow dubious of his levels of genius when he opened his lips.
He cleared his throat and spoke before the class, "Um, no Mr. Franklin. I was just - I just remembered a joke my friend had said today, 'tis all."
I knew where this was headed, and I was delighted I would bear witness to the inevitable disaster that was the situation my friend found himself in. It was entertaining.
"Why don't you enlighten the class on this 'joke' you speak of, hmm?" Mr. Franklin folded his arms across his chest, an unconscious display of condescendence.
Chance's eyes flickered towards mine for a brief instance. "Well, someone had asked him what his favorite class was and he had replied with 'The Bourgeoisie'. I had thought it was funny." Chance shrugged. "I apologize for the interruption."
Mr. Franklin's gaze hardened at the Chances retort. The teacher's eyelids fluttered shut, a shallow exhale leaving his lips. I surveyed raptly as he began to advance towards Chance's desk (as well as my own).
"Funny, but I'm disappointed in you," Mr. Franklin scolded. "Lying to a teacher? How distasteful." He paused. "I saw the notes passing between Mr. Lawson and yourself."
Well shit.
"As you all know," Mr. Franklin intoned, voice implacable, "note passing is severely frowned upon in my class."
A handful of students nodded in acknowledgment. I glared at the pen in my palm, blaming it for resulting in this contemptible predicament.
"Mr. Andrews and Mr. Lawson, you two will both be attending detention from 5 to 5:30 tonight." Mr. Franklin stomped away from my vicinity, returning to his swivel chair with a huff.
"At 5?" Chance's emphatic voice mystified me as it ripples through the dense classroom. "You expect us to wait around the school for two hours? What's the logic in that?"
"Mr. Andrews," Mr. Franklin piped as a distinct threat. "I am not in charge of Monday detentions, it is not my decision. You will be there for the set time or face a greater consequence than a mere half hour of your time."
It was presently Monday.
Monday.
I stared at Mr. Franklin stoically while I asserted, "I am unable to attend the detention today, but I am unoccupied -"
"Unable to attend? For what reason?" Mr. Franklin interjected with repentant rage.
I tapped the pen against my desk in an unconscious beat. The way that blue eyes flashed to mine did not go unperceived.
My gaze slurred across the room in a manner most blasé before my eyes met those of Mr. Franklin.
"I posses medical problems that restrain me from attending," I announced, unafraid of the admittance. "I was under the notion that the principal had informed the totality of the staff mandating my studies, but it seems I was incorrect. Or perhaps you've just forgotten about the severity of my medical adversities."
Mr. Franklin's features flushed at that, a sure sign that I had presumed accurately.
I was treading within malignant territory. Belittling people was a unchangeable habit of mine and its acuteness was on complete display. Even if my presumptions were found correctly, I could still be facing punishment for humiliating a teacher in front of his class.
Though, I found I didn't quite care.
Mr. Franklin attempted to redeem himself with a futile question. "What mental difficulties do you speak of?"
Before I could retort, a deep voice hollered, "Mental difficulties? That's bull!" The boy scoffed, "I'm pretty sure they ruled out homosexuality as a mental illness forever ago. Get with the times, Calla-gay!"
The class giggled at the remarks. My head whipped towards the origin of the churlish voice. My gaze was met with the view of an familiar boy. His shoulder length hair was just like his previous remark; absolutely disgusting.
"Get with the times', hmm?" I sneered at him. "Says the one who fucked his cousin."
"I didn't know she was my cousin, you faggot -"
"Enough!" Mr. Franklin's voice boomed through the air. "All three of you will attend detention tonight."
The boy who was disparaging me groaned, while I only grew more furious.
My jaw clenched as I growled, "I cannot attend."
Mr. Franklin sighed at me, shuffling over towards my desk once again. "You look perfectly well. What would be so austere that it would prevent you from attending a detention where all you do is sit around for a while?"
A new voice called out, "He can't sit on his ass for too long because it'll awaken his homosexual tendencies and he'll try to rape Mr. Grayson!"
Chances voice rang crystal clear a he bellowed at the teen, "Seems like you've given a lot of thought to raping Mr. Grayson, Michael." His eyes shone with impishness. "Care to enlighten the class on the atrocities that are your sexual fantasies?"
A few students sniggered and Chance simpered.
His victory was short lived as yet another doltish adolescent spoke up. "Oh look - how cute," the boy chuckled slyly. "Blondie is standing up for his screwed up boyfriend."
By then, the plenary of the class was snickering at the dispute.
Chance grimaced vexedly as he argued, "He's not screwed up."
I recognized his mistake forthwith as the boy from before smirked hostilely. "So you deny that but don't deny the fact that he's your boyfriend? " He leered. "Nice attempt at subtlety, Andrews."
Chance growled in tetchiness, "I'm not... He's not -"
His voice trailed off in defeat. The large group of pupils roared at Chance's abysmal attempt to compensate for his blunder.
"Too little, too late," I exhaled inaudibly.
I observed as Chance tugged at locks of his hair in agitation, glaring viciously at the adolescent who had disparaged him. The sound of boisterous laughter crowded my mind as I stared at the white of the ceiling. I attempted the commotion of the classroom.
As things quieted down, a distinctly female voice sung in a shrill tone, "Calla-gay and Chance sitting in a car. Are they naked? Yes, they are!"
Her singing dissolved into a fit of treble giggles, a sound so detestable that it induced my eardrums to sting with faint pain.
"I bet you fifty bucks that Chance bottoms," someone shouted across the expanse of the class.
"I'll hold you to that!" Another student addressed, cackling.
My ceiling-pointed gaze grew more intense as I tried to block out the pungent stupidity of the population surrounding me. I was in no way aggrieved by the fatuous hate being directed towards me, I merely found it moronic. The majority of their comments were inarticulate and lacking wit. I found the amassed levels of idiots contained within one classroom funny. It was a comfort to know that my intelligence and mannerism was superior to those of my age.
"That is enough," Mr. Franklin barked at his class. "It is unacceptable to be targeting and bullying peers within this school. All of those that had spoken against Mr. Andrews and Mr. Lawson will be joining them for detention tonight. But you will be required to attend for an hour."
A chorus of groans fluttered through the air.
"I will not tolerate any type of verbal harassment and discrimination within my classroom. Is that clear?" Mr. Franklin demanded.
A few grumbles of "Yeah" left the lips of various students. I smirked, knowing that they were deserving of their consequences.
"Now," the teacher sighed in aggravation, "let us continue our lesson on logarithms."
___________
I ambled towards Mr. Franklin's desk, Chance in tow. Class had already concluded, and the class was barren of other students. I cleared my throat conspicuously, declaring my presence. Mr. Franklin looked up from his planner, frowning scantly.
"I would like to discuss my inability to attend detention tonight," I drawled, already distempered.
Recognition lit up on his features. "Alright, of course. Please elucidate your justification."
I bit my lip, as Chance mumbled behind me, "Elucidate your justification? Did I miss the big word memo or something?"
I disregarded him, focusing on Mr. Franklin. "As I disclosed previously, I have certain medical issues that prevent me from attending."
I felt the ghost of a nudge on shoulder. I spared an instant to glare at Chance, who only grinned in encouragement.
I continued, "I have a critical personality disorder. My condition obligates me to attend therapy sessions on Monday's and Thursday's." I asserted, "They are non-negotiable. I am willing to provide you with a doctor's note if necessary."
I spoke with nonchalance, hoping to keep the situation withdrawn. Though, Mr. Franklin seemed distressed - most likely due to his utter incompetence at recognizing a student's important needs.
"That is not necessary, Mr. Lawson," he assured. "I'll allow you to go to tomorrow's detention. Hopefully that doesn't interfere with your schedule."
"It does not," I murmured. "Thank you."
I took a few steps towards the door, glancing at Chance as he immigrated my movements.
Our movements were halted by Mr Franklin's voice. "I also wanted to mention that I find both of you very brave for being so open about your relationship and sexuality. Your levels of confidence are very impressive, especially within a school with a prevalent amount of prejudices."
I opened my mouth to deny the appraise, but Mr. Franklin hadn't concluded his speech. "I deeply apologize for the manner in which the students have been acting in this class. I will do my best to prevent any similar situations for occurring. Your safety is important to me, particularly in concern to the fact that you already have to deal with your personality disorder."
"Are you apologetic enough to to annul my detention?" I questioned, feigning a grin.
Mr. Franklin chuckled at me. "Unfortunately, no. You did go against my rules by passing notes, as well as cursing at and insulting another student." Mr. Franklin smiled thinly. "Even if it was truly well deserved, I will not be endorsing that type of behaviour within this classroom."
I shrugged at him, "Acknowledged."
As I began to shuffle towards the exit once again, Chance gripped onto the sleeve of my sweater, directing me back towards the teacher.
"Mr. Franklin?" Chance addressed sheepishly.
Mr. Franklin squinted through his glasses. "Yes, Mr. Andrews?"
I stared at Chance in confounding as he spoke, "I know it's a lot to ask, but could you schedule my detention for tomorrow as well?"
I stared at him in repulsion, horrified as to what he planned on doing. He perceived my agitation, smirking at me for an instant before regaining his expression of concern.
"It's just - I'm scared for him, you know?" Chance's voice quietened, though I could still perceive every word escaping his lips. "I don't want my boyfriend getting harassed at school without me there to help. He already has enough to deal with and I don't want him to have to come alone." Chance frowned faintly.
Mr. Franklin's gaze softened, sighing, "I don't normally do this, but I will allow it this once."
Chance beamed.
"But if anything like this reoccurs, I won't be so lenient next time," Mr. Franklin warned.
"Of course, Mr. Franklin. Thank you!" Chance grinned.
I could do nothing but stare vacuously as Chance grabbed onto my hand, fingers interlocking as he dragged me away from the classroom.
We skipped ( Well, Chance skipped, I bounced around with the movement, refusing to reciprocate) down the student-filled hallway, hands continually clasped.
We were making complete fools of ourselves. Even so, the only thing that filled my mind was Chance's distant voice, forming around the words "my boyfriend".
____________