Friday: Way Past The Veil

No one says anything as I stand at the front gates of the school and take myself out of my clothes. There is no need for body paint anymore with my skin as brightly coloured as it had been yesterday morning. My bruises have darkened and grown overnight. They all stand there and stare at me, and I stare back, picking out the shape of Christian's retreating back, his head down.

I have never known such silence in school as the class sits, looking anywhere but at me, and Mrs. Roe takes the register. I barely answer when she calls out my name. Yesterday taught me just about everything I need to know about the world. And all the warnings in the world weren't enough to stop it happening to me. Max knows plenty of other gay guys and none of them have been as badly treated as I have. To be the subject of gay-bashing is far worse than just being beaten up. At least then you can pretend you've done something wrong. I look around the room with hollow eyes. At least one member of my class was there yesterday, I remember the shape and force of his fists. Somehow I don't think anyone on the school board thought this would happen. They picked the good, shy, quiet student. A boy, one with friends to give him support during the week. They never banked on such secrets and such hate. But then, no one ever asked me about it.

We all file out, being herded down to the multi purpose hall for a rare morning assembly. Mr. Johnson is waiting for me at the door. I stop in front of him, my eyes trained to the ground.

"I'm going to need you up front. Is that alright?"

I shrug, the movement causing muscles I didn't know were bruised to sting with raw pain.

"Sure, whatever."

He directs me to a seat at the front of the hall, set away to the side. I sit sideways, so I won't be forced to look at everyone not looking at me, and watch Johnson instead. A huge number of teachers are here. Not just our form tutors but the also the heads of most of the various departments. The whole of the fifth year murmur and chat until Johnson calls for quiet with one ringing command.

"Silence!" He smiles, but he looks drained, "Better. Now I suppose that you are all very glad to be missing time out of whatever lesson you have first. I asked for silence Mr. Dunn," the offending boy, near the back, shuts up instantly, "But you are all here for a very serious reason. As you all know, this week has been the first in which our school has participated in the Naked in School program. The week has not been what we would term a success. The governors have decided to continue The Program with some changed rules and I am happy to announce that next week there will be four students in The Program, two from this year and two from the fourth year." Johnson pauses to allow the murmurs to peter out, "Unfortunately this week's events have highlighted the fact that despite all the classes you are given and despite all good manners, morals and common sense, that bullying still exists in this school. Serious bullying. There is absolutely no reason that anyone in this school should take physical action against another. Violence is not tolerated!" He was far from shouting, his voice quiet but hard as steel, heavy strong words, like tombstones, "Anyone who is being bullied should report it, anyone who is a bully should seriously reconsider their behaviour if they want to spend time outside of jail once they leave school. To abuse someone simply on the word of a rumour is one of the worst things I can think of. You all know what I am talking about! You are supposed to set an example to other students in this school, to the community and I will not allow such behaviour to continue." Johnson paused and turned to me, "Aaron, is there anything you would like to tell the year?"

I nod, scared as I get up, limping a little as I walk out and stand before my collected peers. They look how I feel, singled out and alone, despite the fact that there are more than a hundred of them, versus me. My eyes fly to Christian, sitting at the back, staring at some point a long way above my head. Anything, it seems, than look at his friend.

"I'm not going to tell you who did it. It'll only exacerbate things. You know who you are and I hope it haunts you years from now, although it probably won't. I will tell you one thing though. I am gay."

I watch the weird, rippling reaction to my announcement and realise that I might have just made matters worse for myself. On the other hand, better that everyone knows, rather than suspects and run to snap judgements. Part of me wants to continue speaking to tell them all what it's like, the hate, the fear, the living in quiet agony everyday, having to watch your movements and words and thoughts even. How it's been this way for years, and I'm the same Aaron today as I was a week ago, fully clothed and with friends. I don't, none of them will really understand anyway. I bow myself out with a slight inclination of my head, pick up my bag and make my slow and painful way to English.

Somehow I ended up being the first person to class. Mr. Gill has already arranged the room into a discussion circle, one chair suitably furnished with a big white towel. I go to sit down.

"That was very brave of you Aaron." I look at my English teacher and he looks back, a mark of respect in his eyes, "I hope things get better for you."

"Thank you Sir."

And, appropriate as ever, Mr. Gill launches the class into a detailed and slightly hilarious discussion on most embarrassing moments, no lying allowed, and interjects the conversation at dull moments with tit-bits and information about his 'poor unfortunate sister'. The existence of this sister and possible truth of these stories is something of a school legend, and hard to prove either way since the sister apparently lives in Australia. But it makes class fun.

Everyone's on edge, the usual idiotic comments from Justin and his group make a welcome absence, but nervous silence reigns supreme whenever someone finishes talking. There is no random chatter. It dawns on me quite suddenly, that never again will I have to lie about my sexuality. I am gay. Everyone knows that. I've come out to my parents, and to my school, and while absolutely nothing has gone the way I planned it, I'll never have to pretend to be something I'm not. Not anymore. The realisation gives me a sudden, delightful high, a giddy head rush that makes me smile. Of course, I still have to get through the rest of the day.

As I walk to Geography I am so distracted by the tight knot of worry and despair in my stomach that I don't notice anyone else. My second favourite lesson is about to become my worst. At best, Nate Adams will just go and sit on the other side of the classroom without a word. At worst I expect him to shout and rant and tell me exactly what he thinks of me. I cover my eyes as I sink into my seat, wishing I was anywhere but here.

Nate comes in last, just behind our teacher. He looks just as good as ever, his hair an unruly mess, like he's just got out of bed, taut dark skin of his neck, his beautiful eyes. Despite the situation, my depression, my fears and my general tenderness from being beaten so violently I get hard almost as soon as I see him. I'm cursing my anatomy, staring out the window at the sky, darkening as it is with the threat of rain and it's a sudden surprise to feel someone drop into the seat beside me.

I turn sharply and there is Nate, in his seat as normal, gorgeous as always, piling up the contents of his bag on the table. He does this every lesson, it gives him ample things to fiddle with while he doesn't pay attention to the teacher. I almost forget to breathe. His leg brushes mine under the table and I almost flinch. What with him being so close, and me just having come out to the whole school, his presence just turns me on more. Either he's really secure and understanding, or he has it in for me. Nate turns his mesmerising chocolate gaze on me and grins a Cheshire-cat smile.

"So you think I'm hot?" He's grinning, I smile, and infectious giggling erupts. Mr. Webster breaks the mould of all our lessons so far and basically gives up on teaching us anything. Everyone's talking, and for the first time since this week began, it's all happy, positive, laughing, joking. Several similar looking girls with similar sounding names want to know if I've got any tips for making guys horny. I blush, but in a good way, as I explain that they probably have more experience than I do, but anything that involves his cock is probably a good start.

The bell goes and Nate gives me this big gorgeous smile just as he leaves. My heart skips, but I'm almost used to that. I'm in such a good mood that I decide to find Christian, explain, and get my friend back from the land of confusion. The boys bathroom on the upper floor is the first place I look. And my way is barred by Mike and a couple of others, including Brett, who looks a bit unsure of what he's doing there.

"Is Chris here?"

"He won't want to speak with you," Mike spits the words at me, "Fag."

I look into the room, over Mike's head, and sure enough Christian is there, standing against the back wall. He's not looking at me.

"Christian!"

At my shout he does look up, but his eyes are wide, scared, and angry. He looks annoyed and ashamed at the same time.

"Straight boys only Aaron. No homos, get out." Mike folds his arms over his chest, trying his best to look macho.

I glare at him, wondering whether or not voodoo works and is worth a shot, and storm off as the bell goes again for the start of lessons. My best friend, like my best friend since forever, the guy I call on when stuff at home is really shit or when the Doc and I have had a huge argument, the guy who helps me out with homework and who I was with all through his parents divorce. And he's abandoned me, not for being naked, but for being gay. Something I have no control over, absolutely none. I trudge to Citizenship, feeling annoyed, and despite the class being in a circle for discussion, I am effectively sitting on my own, holed up in my anger. Of course the reason I'm angry with Christian is because it puts off the point where I'm going to be upset about Christian. I don't want to make a habit of crying in school.

Citizenship is a god-awful lecture on the tolerance of other religions, races and cultures. A couple of the guys opposite me go off on one about how their rights should be tolerated and respected, about how they shouldn't be expected to get changed in front of a fag who might try and do something to them. It's sickening just listening to them. As our teacher stutters, trying to find 'appropriate' terms for what they've described I stand, turn and walk out of class without a word.

Annoyingly I walk right into pretty little idiotic Jeremy Tavares. He stares at me for a moment, then his eyes go wide and he looks up into my eyes. If looks could kill, he'd be ash on the floor. He yelps, involuntarily it seems, and quick-steps off down the corridor.

"Ah, Mr. Caine, just who I was coming to see." Mr. Johnson is smiling, "Obviously you have telepathic powers, for you would never have left your lesson otherwise." He is being facetious, it doesn't suit him. "Why don't you come along to my office?"

Johnson's office is becoming very familiar. I sit and roll a sugar coated toffee bon-bon between my fingers, making them all white.

"Aaron," Johnson's voice is grave, "I wanted to congratulate you for what you did this morning. It was very brave of you."

"Thank you Sir."

"However," I knew that was coming, "It might not have been the best idea. I made the point that a rumour was the cause of much of the trouble. Now that you have proved this rumour correct, you may be treated worse than you were before."

Johnson and I watch each other across the table.

"With all due respect Sir, it could only be worse if they decide to rape me." He flinches at the word 'rape', it's a reaction I think everyone has. Shock tactics.

"You might find that you're wrong about that. Aaron, we don't want you getting hurt because of The Program."

I stand up and shake my head sadly.

"Too late for that, perhaps such things should have been considered earlier in the week?"

"Perhaps," Johnson sounds unhappy, but resigned, "Aaron, understand that we will have to discuss this issue, along with your recent behaviour, further. I would also like to speak to your parents," His gaze is firm, argument, at this stage, would be futile, "I'll arrange a meeting for all four of us next week."

"Can I go now Sir?"

He nods, and I leave his office. The empty corridors are silent. Everyone in their classes, heads down, working away, or staring out the window, waiting for the lesson to be over. From what I've read and understood, The Program is supposed to change the lives of the participants, to enrich them, physically, sexually, socially. They couldn't have had a worst first week, not really.

I make my way to the art rooms. There isn't a class going on at the moment, though mine is due to start in about ten minutes, so I take the time to clear space and begin setting up, because I have a definite idea for what I want to do in today's lunch spanning double lesson.

By the time the rest of the class and our teacher arrive, I sm well into my artwork. I have the whole of my section of the classroom cleared out and two large sheets of canvas on the floor along with half a dozen different pots of paint and brushes. I paint myself. Nothing like the detailed workings Max had done, but simple colourful patterns all over my front, curves and angles reflecting the shape of my body. It's nice to cover over my bruises with blue and red and ochre shades. Everyone lets me get on with it. Finally I lay down on the canvas and imprint the shape of myself on it. It looks like some strange sprite, a whorl of colour shaped like a man.