School Dance - 1. Chapter 1

My secondary school has decided to have an end of year dance for the year nine kids and we are supposed to ask someone to accompany us to the dance as our date.

I’ve had my eye on Kim for the past few months. That long blond hair; those deep blue eyes; that really cute butt; the loveliest laugh I have ever heard. I am so the smitten kitten. My notebook even has little hearts with “I love Kim” written inside them.

I’ve already had Sally, Tina and Maxine dropping big hints that they want me to ask them. Now don’t get me wrong, they are the three most popular girls in my year, not to mention the prettiest. But they’re not Kim. When I look at him, my heart goes pitty-pat, my breathing slows and I get this warm giddy feeling.

I know Kim is gay; I’ve seen him taking overly long looks at the other boys in the shower and I’ve seen him with a couple of the boys in my class – one of them is also a friend of mine, and he’s told me what happens on their sleepovers.

As you’ve probably guessed, I’m gay. I suppose deep down I’ve always known, but earlier this year I finally admitted it to myself. A few weeks ago, I admitted it to my parents.

I’m out of time; the dance is on Friday and if I don’t ask one of them at lunch today to go with me I’m going to end up going on my own and looking a right Billy-No-Mates. The only question is do I conform to the accepted social norm and ask one of the girls, or do I dare ask Kim? I know I’ll enjoy the dance with any of the girls, but if I could go with Kim I know I’d really really enjoy myself.

After a debate of about two seconds I decided to grow a pair and ask Kim. I spied him sitting at a table on his own eating his lunch so I walked over – my heart rate increasing with each step; my breathing getting faster; my body flooding with adrenaline.

“Kim, can I ask you something?”

“Sure Matty, have a seat.”

Now we’re not particularly close as friends go. We have three classes a week together and we’ve always been friendly; just we’d not really call each other friends, more like classmates.

“Matty, are you OK?”

“Kim,” I started. My brain yelling at me "why are doing this"; my heart screaming even louder "why are you hesitating". “Kim,” I started again, taking a very deep breath. “Will you go with me to the dance on Friday, as my date?” There I said it. I was so nervous; my heart was beating faster than a hummingbird’s; I felt nauseous.

A smile crossed his face, his eyes betraying his joyous emotions at me asking him. Just as I was regaining some semblance of control, he yelled at the top of his voice, “Do you think I’m some kind of fag? That what you go for queerboy?” Every head in the lunch hall turned to see what the commotion was about. Kim looked around and continued his tirade. “Why would I want to go the dance with a fairy sack of shit like you?”

I collapsed to my knees under his insults; my world came crashing down and my heart broke. As I knelt in front of half the school crying my eyes out, Kim continued yelling at me, using words for “gay” I had never heard before let alone even thought existed “bum puncher”, “shit stabber”, “butt pirate”, “shirt lifter”, “ass bandit”. As the words came, his voice got louder and louder and his audience grew and grew. I curled into a ball, and wept; hoping the ground would open up beneath me.

Within ten minutes the entire playground had found out what I was; ten minutes after that the entire school had found out what I was.

As lunchtime came to end (I don’t recall seeing or hearing one teacher, one dinnerlady, one member of staff trying putting an end to what Kim was doing), the four biggest boys in the school entered the lunch hall. To say they looked like they were on a mission was an understatement; it was clear to everyone they had come for the queer.

The largest of the four walked over to me and yanked me up by the hair so quickly I was airborne for a few seconds. As I managed to get my feet under me, I felt all the air leave me as I was punched in the stomach by what felt like a sledgehammer. I was held up from behind by one of them, whilst the others took turns in hitting me. Just as I thought things couldn’t get any worse Kim walked over to me, sneered and said, “Faggots ain’t welcome here” and punched me in the face. I don’t recall any pain, but it must have hurt because I passed out at that point.

I regained consciousness about an hour ago in a local hospital. I was told the attack was nearly eight weeks ago. The doctor told me I have a broken jaw, cracked cheekbone, multiple broken ribs, I’ve almost certainly lost the sight in my left eye, the surgeons had to remove my spleen. As the doctor left my room he handed me a letter saying one of my school friends had left it a few days ago. It read:

Matty,

I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. There’s no way anyone can ever find out the truth about me.

I’m happy you feel that you can be open about being gay but my parents would disown me and my life at school would be over. When you asked me out I freaked.

I hope one day you can forgive me.

Kim

He wants my forgiveness; well I want my goddamned eyesight. I’m not going to get what I want, so there’s no way in hell he’s going to get what he wants.

I was told by the doctor I’m lucky to be alive...somehow, I don’t feel lucky.

The doctor told me that someone "up there" was looking out for me...but there is no one "up there" who cares or gives a shit if I live or die.

Two months later Kim was reading the newspaper and came across the obituaries:

It is with great sadness that the death of Matty McCallum is announced. He was found hanged in his bedroom on August 27^th, aged fourteen. The reasons why he took his own life are currently a mystery. He leaves behind his loving parents and a five year old sister.

The funeral will be held in Putney Vale crematorium, West London, on September 2^nd at 1:30 PM. His family hope that his friends from school will attend.

A tear fell from Kim’s eye, as he said a silent prayer for the soul of the boy who had done nothing wrong but extend his heart.

Kim walked downstairs to where his parents were watching TV. “Mum, dad. I need to talk.”