Yes, I Am

Chapter Twenty Three.

At the far end of the room, right beside the door, Tony and his friends had sat their asses down. There was a little satisfaction in knowing that Tony was shaken up enough to not get seats nearer to the rest of us. But at the same time, Caleb looked shaken up enough too, even though he was trying his damnedest not to show it. His lips were turned down in mild disgust and nonchalance but his face was paler than usual and his eyes slightly wider. I wished I could kill that Tony for all the trouble he had been causing.

Some time, due to some reason, there was another shift in the air and one idiot from either our or their group thought himself brave enough to pass a comment and since then, there'd been a volley of insults back and forth like a table tennis match. Except this match had way too many balls randomly hitting whatever side it could, and, ironically, aiming right for the balls too. I was mostly ignoring it, talking to Caleb like none of it was going on, our heads inclined close together like we were on a date, not in the middle of a cold war. But occasionally they would put in offensive comments about him and my teeth would painfully clench in my mouth.

Caleb put his hand over mine and gently squeezed it. "Don't. They're not worth it," he said when he saw my jaw lock dangerously for the tenth time.

I sighed. It was the first time in life I wished I had some sort of muscle weight or martial arts training so I could beat the shit out of all of those douchebags. I caught the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck and rubbed the soft strands between my fingers. "They aren't; you are."

His lips quirked up and he was getting ready to say something sassy when I heard another one of those comments, this one clearly aimed at Caleb, ensued by whoops of laughter and Caleb flinched a little, causing the last thread of my fragile self control to break. I whipped around on my stool and barked, "You know what, Tony? You're a disgusting piece of shit. I don't think you've been told this enough but you deserve to know."

There were a few snickers from the boys at my table at the obvious-God's-own-truth way I'd given the statement. Caleb wrapped his fingers around my elbow and tugged me back but I shook free of him. "No, let me," I insisted. "Please."

I did not have the physical prowess or the tough looks or even the height to intimidate guys but I did have a biting tongue and a fiercely protective heart that belonged to the guy they had been comfortably ripping on. I turned my icy stare to Tony who was studiously ignoring everything happening around him. "But I don't think I need to tell you that, do I, Tony? I'm sure your mom did that when you were born."

The cheers this time were louder. Two of the guys and one girl from beside Tony began to say something, invariably adding the word 'fag' to their comeback because that was the only insult they knew, when I shouted at them to shut their damn mouths and cut them off in between.

"Don't speak unless spoken to," I warned. "And that goes out to all of you pansy ass pretentious numbskulls. You should literally drown yourselves. And that's something coming from me because I'm against condoning suicide but the world would really be a better place if you guys didn't exist. You think you're so pure and righteous because- because of what?- because you're straight? You think 9 million people in this country are fucking idiots? Reality check, fuckwads. It's because of assholes like you that there are closeted people out there committing suicide. Every person who's not cis and straight has gone through the emotionally wrenching struggle of coming out because snippety snappety snobs like you can't help but be snobs."

I was going completely off the rails but I couldn't stop myself. I hated people like Tony and his friends with a burning passion. They were the reason I, and so many other gay people in denial, were scared of coming to terms with something as trivial as our sexuality. They represented everything I abhorred and now that I had let Pandora's box fall open, all my repressed emotions were out in the open like a decade's worth of dirty laundry. "Why are we even hiding in closets?" I continued, "I hate this fucking term. Why should we have to hide? Tell me, all of you straight people out here, have you ever sat down with your parents and had a serious conversation about the fact that you like the opposite gender?"