Why Can't You Let Me Be Happy?

Chapter 1

"You're what?!" I was looking between my parents and the counselor in the room.

"We're sending you away Scott." My stepfather answered with a blank tone. I sat down in the chair, grabbing my head to try and control the thoughts trying to burst into the open.

"We think you're a- you're a-" My mother couldn't even finish her. She grabbed my stepfather's hand for support.

"Your parents believe you're a homosexual." The counselor cut in. Oh god. They can't think that. I mean I never even kissed a boy or had sex with a boy. I like women. I mean I haven't had sex with my girlfriend since we started dating for two years but still.

"I'm not gay!" My voice cracked at the end, making me sound desperate. I looked around at everyone. My parents called my grandparents, my friends, even my girlfriend. "I'm not gay." I said even quieter.

"So that's why you can't touch me." Lizzie, my girlfriend, spoke up.

"I don't like men! Why won't anyone believe me?!" I spun around to look at all the accusing faces. Lizzie ran up to smash her lips against mine. I shoved her back. It's not right to kiss in front of my parents. I mean it's wrong.

"With movements like those you're going to turn me into a homosexual."

"No you don't understand." The counselor stood up, wrapping his arm around my shoulders with difficulty because my height.

"I was gay once too. But I changed my ways and so can you." I shrugged his arm off. "Marianne and the One Way program can put you back on track to becoming a heterosexual."

"But I-"

"Your parents have packed your things and they are already in the truck. I just need-" I cradled my arm that he tried to grab to my chest. "We need to get you on the truck. You've already missed the first day."

"Mom. You have to listen to me. I'm not gay." My mom was hugging up against her husband.

I was dragged to the counsellor's truck. He made me sit in the passenger seat as he drove. I shoved my headphones in. He was talking. I was watching his lips move but I wasn't listening. I was pissed off. My mom was tricked by my stepfather. Keith always wanted to get rid of me. I was my father's son.

My father always told me to be myself. No matter what. So what if my gaze lingered a little too long in certain areas. Doesn't everyone look at the same sex? Doesn't everyone have that defining moment when they decide? Maybe I'm just stuck in that moment. Maybe this program will break me out of my funk. I will not say I'm gay. I'm not. I'm confused. This confusion sparked my mom's decision to send me away. My headphone was yanked out.

"We're here." The building looked like a boarding school. I slammed the car door shut behind me. This was idiotic. A woman walked up to me with a distastefully bright pink suit with an equally distasteful skirt. Her shoes were black though. Wardrobe malfunction? Shit, that's not the thoughts of a straight man.

"Hello...." She looked down at her clipboard. "Scott Hoying. I'm Marianne Limersa. You will call me Sister Anne." She wrapped her bony fingers around my forearm tightly. The counsellor followed up the stairs with my bags. "You will be going through a five step program that will put your life on track for your normal lifestyle."

"I am-" She put her hand up to stop me. We were standing in the front room of the building.

"Boys are in the west wing and girls are in the east. Lights out at nine. We wake up at six and you get an hour for breakfast, free time till lunch where you get an hour there. After lunch are classes, group therapy, and you will be with your buddy. You're stuck with Mitch." She pointed at a chart in front of the entrance to the boys' wing. Mitch's name only had one star by it while everyone else had five.

"That boy is nothing but trouble." The counsellor muttered. "I'll show you the rest of the way to your room."

"Okay." He unlocked the door with a little key card and motioned me to go down the hall. We went through a game room where some other boys were playing some games or just talking. Then he led me to the shared bedroom.

"Now, there is no inappropriate actions allowed." He waved his finger in front of my face.

"Like-"

"Like fucking." I spun around when a voice interrupted me. I looked over at the boy about my age with breath taking brown eyes and silky brown hair to match. He put the filter of a cigarette up to his full lips before taking a quick drag.

"Mitch. We don't use that language." He laughed dryly.

"No, of course not. We just put it into action." His eyes drifted over every inch of my body. The counsellor dropped my bags by the door.

"I'll leave you two to get acquainted." Mitch watched the counsellor leave.

"Bye Seth." He waved his hands obnoxiously. He shut the door loudly. "I thought he would never leave. Geez." He ran his free hand over the soft skin on the back of his neck. He put the cigarette back up against his lips and I snatched it out of between his fingers.

"You're going to kill yourself with those." He stood on his tipy toes to blow the smoke that was in his mouth against my lips. He was only centimeters away. I coughed. He licked his lips seductively and I couldn't help but watch the way his tongue slid across his skin. I swallowed, my throat suddenly feeling dry.

"Why do you care?" He backed away. "I could die happily right now. I know who I am. Could you say the same shit about yourself?" His attitude suddenly turned hostile before disappearing around the corner. I don't know what I did. I didn't have a chance to follow after Mitch because the intercom came on.

"Report to group therapy." Sister Anne's voice was booming above us. I followed Mitch when he swiftly walked out of the room. Well, great. I fucked that up.