New Brother - 13. Chapter 13

“What is it, Randy?” Mum asked, concerned.

“Someone’s tipped an entire jar of pink paint into my bag,” my brother replied, anger resonating through every word. “I suspect it was either Kev or Stu. They probably think this is funny. I’m going to kill somebody, as soon as I work out which one did it.”

I looked across at Adam. From the worried expression he returned to me, I knew he had the same thought as me. It wasn’t one of Randy’s friends playing a joke. It was a deliberate, malicious act by someone who thought that Randy’s gay.

“Uh, Giant?” Adam started hesitantly, not taking his eyes off me. I knew he was offering me the chance to say something first, but I didn’t know what to say. I felt a flash of resentment that my brother was being put through this, but I tried not to aim it at Adam. As Liz had tried to explain to me at the racetrack, Adam wasn’t the cause of this, only the trigger. It was hard, though – if it weren’t for Adam, the school wouldn’t think Randy’s gay!

“What is it, Ads?” Randy said as he walked over to drop the paint jar into the rubbish bin.

“I don’t think it was your friends who did this.”

We twisted around to watch my brother’s reaction to Adam’s assertion.

“Who else could it be?” Randy replied, irritated. As the other possibilities popped into his head, his mouth dropped open and his eyes opened wide. “Oh….”

“If it wasn’t one of his friends, who do you think did it?” Mum asked the three of us.

“Mum, the whole school thinks Randy’s gay,” I explained. “I think, and Adam looks like he thinks so too, that it was done by someone who hates him because of that.”

My dad, like Randy, tends to have a flash of anger occasionally, but calms down pretty quickly afterwards. My mum rarely gets angry, but when she does it simmers for a long time. From the expression on her face, someone was going to get slammed... hard.

“It’s supposed to be a Christian school!” she exclaimed to no one in particular as she marched over to pick up Randy’s school bag. “How can people who call themselves Christians do something like this?”

Peering inside, she grimaced. “We should be able to salvage most of this, Randy. Get some old newspapers from the recycling bin. We need to get these things out and put them on the newspapers to stop the paint from spreading any further.”

For the next thirty minutes, instead of doing homework, we cleaned up the mess. After getting everything out, we saw that the damage was largely restricted to the outside of the books. Mum found some old sheets of contact which we used to re-cover Randy’s notebooks. The textbooks and reading materials that belong to the school were the most troublesome. All we could do to them was wipe off most of the paint. Mum wrote a note to explain why the books were damaged and gave it to Randy to take to school the next day.

She also rang to make an appointment to see the principal or vice principal, but the school office was shut by the time she tried. She said she’d try again the next morning.

While we worked, Mum questioned us as to what had happened that day. It didn’t take long for her to pick up the general thread. I could see her fury growing as she extracted the details of what Randy and Adam had gone through. I was lucky to miss most of her attention. The grilling I got about the three students on the bus and the guy at lunchtime was bad enough. She seemed to think that I should know who they all were, and she wasn’t impressed when I had to admit I didn’t know their names.

It seemed that Adam had received more attention than Randy. While a lot of people would consider the younger student an easier target, in this case that wasn’t true. Randy appeared to have a wider circle of friends helping him than Adam did. He is also a much more physically intimidating person than Adam.

There was one other factor that I mulled on while we helped clean up. I really saw only four apparently hostile students, and they were all older than us. While I hated to think anything nice about them, they may have had some qualms about harassing a year 8 student. A year 10 student would be a lot more attractive target, morally, if that term could be used for them.

I didn’t say anything about that, because it was all guesswork, and Randy had ended up getting the worst abuse, anyway – the paint in his bag.

Finally finishing, Mum rocked back in her seat and looked thoughtfully around at us.

“We can’t do much more, now. You boys had better get to work on your homework. Your dad is going to want to go through this, too, so you won’t have a chance later.”

“What about when Scott gets here?” Adam asked.

Mum sighed. Leaning forward, she replied, “We’ll worry about that later. I think he needs to be told, don’t you?”

Grimacing, Adam nodded. Scott isn’t a target at the moment, but he will be when the word gets out. He needs to know, so he can be prepared.

We did our homework in a very somber mood. There was none of the talking or complaining that usually happens during our homework time. Things had changed, anyway, with Adam being there, but no one was in the mood to talk.

I was the last one to finish, mainly due to the revision I needed to do for maths. Randy and Adam had already disappeared outside to blow off some steam by playing a bit of one-on-one. Normally, I’d have joined them, but I wanted to make some phone calls first.

“Gazza speaking,” came Gary’s distracted tone.

“Hi, Gazza. It’s Stick.”

“Is it important, Stick? I’m a little occupied at the moment.”

“Someone dumped some paint into Giant’s bag at the end of school. I was just wondering if you saw anything,” I asked, not hopeful, but it was the opening gambit for what I really wanted to ask.

“WHAT!” he yelled. “Sorry, Mary, this sounds important,” I heard him say to his girlfriend. For a moment I wondered what they were up to, as I knew his mum wouldn’t be home yet, but I quickly decided it didn’t matter.

“Someone dropped an open jar of pink paint into Randy’s bag. We found it when we got home,” I explained.

“Pink, eh,” he remarked, before he told Mary what I’d said.

“Stick, this is Mary. Was anyone hurt?” she asked, concerned. I guessed that Gary had the phone between them.

“No, just all the stuff in his bag,” I replied glumly.

“Any ideas on who did it?” Gary asked.

“If the colour is relevant, any homophobic arsehole,” I replied sharply, before continuing a bit calmer. “There is one guy that I suspect, but I’ve got no proof and I don’t know who he is.”

“Why do you suspect him?” Mary queried.

“I saw him go out of his way to bump into Adam at lunchtime. It also looked like he followed us to Adam’s locker after school. Both times he looked as if he hated us, or at least Adam. Just before we got on the bus I saw him smirking at us. He’s my best guess, based on that smirk. It’s not much, but it’s all I have,” I admitted.

“Sorry, Stick, but neither of us saw anything,” Gary said, regret coming through clearly.

“It was a long shot,” I said, “but thanks anyway.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Mary asked.

Smiling, I mentally thanked Mary for volunteering. That was what I had hoped for, though I had expected Gary to be the one to offer. His quick temper usually has him diving head-on into any trouble around his friends.

“Yeah, there is,” I started. “Before he got on the bus, Giant challenged everyone there to tell him to his face if they had a problem with him. He called anyone who sniped from behind a gutless coward. Well, this guy sounds like a gutless coward, so I expect him to keep sniping. I think we need to have as many eyes as possible keeping watch on both Adam and Randy. Do you think you can help?”

Without a pause, Gary jumped straight in, enthusiasm blasting, “Too bloody right! We’re not going to stand by on this one, are we, Mary?”

“Of course, not,” she responded more calmly, but I could almost hear the smile she must have given Gary as she said it.

“Good, then there is one more thing I need to ask you,” I said, trepidation creeping up on me.

“What?” Gary asked with his typical bluntness.

“Can one of you ring Liz and tell her?” I pleaded. “I think she’ll want to know.”

There was a pause from the other end of the phone line. I tensed up as I started wondering what was going on over there.

“Sure, Stick,” Mary answered kindly. “We’ll do that now. Is there anyone else you want us to call?”

“No, thanks,” I replied with a sigh of relief. “That’s the only one I can’t do myself.”

“Is there anything else?” Gary asked.

“No. That’s it. I’m going to ring a few more people. Thanks again for this,” I replied.

“Okay. Bye, Stick!”

“Bye, Gazza, Mary.”

I rang a few more people that I know who I thought might help out. I’m not as good friends with them as I am with my basketball teammates, but I was very pleased with the responses I got. Without exception they all expressed disgust at what had been done, and why. While they couldn’t always be there, they said they would keep an eye out for trouble and promised to help if they saw any.

I wished I had Michael or Peter’s phone numbers, but I didn’t. I made a mental note to correct that. From what he’d said, Michael’s help was a given. Peter, I wasn’t as sure about, but I think his sense of fair play would mean he’d do what he could. It might not be as much as some of the others, but simply showing he supported Adam and Randy would bring a lot of his circle of friends into line.

Dinner that night was a tense affair. No one was in trouble, but the concern radiating from our parents was putting a damper on everything. My dad listened to our description of the events of our day without comment; just the occasional question to clarify what had happened. We were all allowed a glass of wine with dinner, but even that tasted flat because of the emotions that were hanging the air.

As we finished, Dad looked at Mum and remarked that they would have to go to the school sometime soon to make sure that the staff would be able to keep things under control. Mum replied that she was going to ring to make an appointment, and that she was happy to look after it herself. The look of determination on her face left no doubts as to how seriously she took the situation.

When Scott and Chris showed up a bit later, our parents sat them down and made us go through everything again. As this was the third round, it flowed out quickly. I could see Scott going pale. Michael’s news at lunchtime hadn’t helped him to be comfortable with being gay, and this was just exacerbating that.

Afterwards, Scott and Adam went for a walk. The weather was fine, though a little cool.

While they were out, the phone rang. I listened idly as Mum answered it.

“Hello?”

“Oh, hi, Trevor. Nice to hear from you. How have you been?”

I quickly sat up straight in my chair. Trevor? What was Liz’s brother doing ringing us? Mum caught my eye as she spoke on the phone. All I could do was send her an unspoken sense of panic.

“I’m glad to hear it. Yes, I’m sure he’ll love to talk to her.”

I started shaking my head violently from side to side. How could I speak to Liz?

“Randy! Liz is on the phone. She’d like a word,” Mum called out as she kept eye contact with me. She looked concerned, but I wasn’t sure why. I also didn’t know why Liz wanted to speak to Randy, unless it was because of the phone call I had asked Gary to give her.

I stood and left the living room, passing my brother as he was on his way to the phone. As soon as he was gone I accelerated down the hall to my room. Once in, I slid to the floor with my back resting against the closed door. I knew Liz would want to know about Randy, but why did she have to ring?

My heart was racing and my breathing was short and fast as I struggled to bring myself back under control. I had thought that when we broke up, that would be it. There would be a period of time while we both got over it, and then we could get on with our lives. That’s how it’s supposed to be, but it’s not working out. I keep running into Liz at every turn, with things seemingly forcing us together. I’m forced to sit with her in some classes and to be near her in others. Now she’s even ringing here at home!

I remembered Liz saying that she had been observing my family. She had also been concerned about Randy after the fight at the basketball game.

With a subdued sigh of relief, I realised that was probably all it was. She still liked my brother, and wanted to check how he was. It was causing me a huge load of anxiety, but I felt glad she still cared for him, even though she’d broken up with me.

I looked at the clock. It was early, but not an unreasonable time for me to go to bed. Adam and Scott could have their goodbyes without me being around, and I didn’t want to listen to Randy talk about his conversation with Liz.

As I got undressed there was a knock at the door.

“Are you okay?” my mum called out.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. “I’m having an early night. Goodnight, Mum!”

“Goodnight, David,” came her hesitant and puzzled reply. She knew something was up, but she probably didn’t know if she should push the issue. I was lucky that she decided to let it go.

As I lay down I knew it would be some time before I fell asleep. My mind was racing too much for me to relax properly. My emotions were in a stir, too.

Adam’s presence was still causing major ripples in my life. My relationship with Randy seemed to be heading back to normal, but I was afraid I’d lost Liz for good.

Now, though, Randy had become a target because everyone thought of him as Adam’s boyfriend. For a moment I wished for a time machine so I could go back and wipe out all of the past few days, but with a sigh of resignation I knew that even that wouldn’t work. Adam would still be gay and his dad would still kick him out of home. He would still need a place to stay and everything would still happen.

Because my brother is being attacked, Liz is still hovering around in my life. Like a sore that just keeps getting worse when it’s picked at, my feelings for Liz aren’t settling. Each time she appears, I feel another sharp stab of agony.

Am I being too fatalistic? Is it really over with Liz? We broke up because of my pigheadedness over Adam, but I’ve been working to fix that. She doesn’t want to speak to me; Fiona had made that clear. But maybe there’s some way I can still tell her that I love her and that I am sorry.

It was as I made, and discarded, plans along those lines that I eventually drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Mum offered to drive us all to school. We discussed it, but Adam thought it would look too much like he was trying to hide. Randy agreed, but I privately thought Mum was right. A bit of breathing space to think about the situation may have been all that was required to make a lot of people back off. But, we found ourselves waiting for the bus, again.

This time Randy was silent. I could tell he was still stewing on the incident with the paint. That concerned me – he normally doesn’t hold onto his anger for that long. There must have been more to it than I could see. I wondered if the hassling and taunts he’d mentioned when Mum and Dad questioned him were eating at him more than he was letting on.

“Giant?”

“Yeah, Stick? What is it?”

“Try to limit yourself to thumping one person a day, okay?” I joked.

When he blushed and turned away I knew I’d scored a hit. He was still thinking about the abuse he’d received, and was working himself into another stormy mood.

“Seriously, try to let it slide. Most will give up if you don’t react to them,” I said.

“Listen to him, Randy,” Adam added. “You can’t fight the whole school. Just stick with your friends and ignore the arseholes.”

Randy was still looking away and I could tell from his posture that he was trying to ignore our advice. He was being obstinate just because he could. He still felt he didn’t need help handling anything that came his way.

“Okay, how’s this?” I began. “You pick which of your mates you want to end up in hospital with a broken nose and two black eyes just because they stuck up for you in a fight you could’ve avoided.”

Spinning on his heels, Randy snarled at me. “That’s a low blow, David.”

“Yes, it was,” I admitted, “but it’s still the truth. Your friends will stick up for you like you stuck up for Adam on Saturday. If you pick the wrong fight, one or more of them could get hurt.”

He stared angrily at me for a couple of seconds before responding.

“Fine,” he spat out through clenched teeth. “I’ll let as much ride as I can.”

It wasn’t good enough, but I knew I wasn’t going to get anything better out of him. When Adam looked like he was going to keep on arguing, I caught his attention and just shook my head. Randy was going to have to learn what he could do, and what he couldn’t, by himself. He won’t listen when he’s in a mood like that.

Randy stormed onto the bus first. I followed quickly behind, as I wanted to be in a position to grab him if I had to. Harrison gave us a nod of acknowledgment as we boarded, and then turned back to the book he was reading.

Randy’s classmates at the back just cringed when they saw us. Without hesitating, Randy marched down and sat in the seat opposite them.

“Hi, guys! How’s things?” he asked with a hint of aggression.

“Uh… fine, thanks, Giant,” the first one answered. The second just bobbed his head up and down nervously, as if agreeing with the first guy.

After quickly looking back at Adam and seeing him indicate to keep going, I moved and sat down in a seat a couple up from where Randy was. I hoped that was close enough to hear what was going on, but not so close that my brother would think I was being overly protective. Adam took the seat opposite me. As I raised my eyebrows in a silent question to him, he just smiled back and slouched down on the seat. It looked like he’d decided he could do the trip without one of us sitting with him. I was glad, because I wanted to keep on eye on what Randy was up to, or at least an ear to his conversation. Turning to watch him would have been a little too obvious.

“Do you have any questions for me? Things you might want to know?” Randy asked with an edge to his voice, daring them to make an issue.

“No, we’re cool!” the spokesman replied quickly.

“Good!” Randy said sharply. “I’m getting a bit annoyed about people who don’t know how to mind their own business, Mark.”

That gave me the name of one of the two. I was tempted to turn and tell my brother to listen to his own advice, but I knew that would just inflame him more.

“Umm, Giant? Can I ask a personal question?” the other one queried.

“Sure, Luke,” Randy answered in a milder tone. It sounded like he might have been calming down. I crossed my fingers, hoping that Luke wouldn’t ask a dumb question.

“How long have you and Adam been going out?” Luke asked tentatively.

I tensed up, worried that Randy was going to blow up at the question.

“Adam’s not my boyfriend!” Randy stated firmly. “Understand? I’m… not… gay!”

“Okay, Giant,” Luke replied quickly, trying to placate my brother, “I was only asking.”

“Why doesn’t anyone believe me?” Randy asked, pleadingly.

I didn’t need to turn around to know that he was looking up at the roof of the bus, with his arms raised as if asking for divine intervention. He was getting frustrated because everyone thinks he’s gay. He does the same thing every time other people confuse him.

For a while there was only the engine and road noise in the bus. No one was talking. Adam seemed relaxed, just gazing out at nothing. I quickly glanced back and saw my brother scowling out the window. Mark and Luke kept giving him worried looks, but seemed too scared to actually say anything.

Most of the students who boarded at the next stop sat down at the front of the bus. One girl, I think in year 11, came down to where we were sitting.

“Is this seat taken?”

I twisted around and saw her smiling at my brother. I could see Adam had also turned in his seat, looking puzzled and maybe a touch anxious.

“Not at all.” Randy smiled back at her and shuffled across to the window to give her room.

I turned back to face the front and looked over at Adam, who just shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t know what that was about, either.

My best guess was that she was one of those girls who wanted to find out for herself whether or not Randy’s gay. But why didn’t she try Adam? I personally think Randy is better looking than Adam, but he has that indescribable aura that indicates he’s also young.

Going out with a girl for a few weeks would do a lot to settle the rumours Randy’s gay, but that girl was too old for him. There’s really only one way he’d be able to demonstrate that he’s not gay, and I was a bit nervous about that. He’s already implied to me that he’s not a virgin, but he’s still a bit young to know when not to have sex.

Sighing, I slumped into my seat. There was nothing I could do. Randy is his own person and has to make his own mistakes.

A few minutes later I looked back to find the two having a whispered conversation. Neither looked particularly happy, so it certainly wasn’t a lighthearted chat. As I watched, the girl smiled, leant over and gave Randy a kiss on the cheek. He blushed and gave her a small smile. I was just about to turn away when she stood up and moved to another seat. I was still staring when Randy caught sight of me. Glaring at me, he silently told me to mind my own business.

What the fuck was that all about? I knew better than to ask my brother after we got off the bus. He can be incredibly tight-lipped at times, and the mood he was in just made it worse.

When Rick boarded the bus he came straight to the back and sat down next to me. What was good was that he included Adam in our conversation. Rick started chatting about the other teams in our competition, and we spent the rest of the trip talking about various incidents that had occurred through the season. Partway through, Randy moved up to the seat behind me and joined in as well. It was almost like old times, with Adam added to the mix. We were so busy, I don’t think any of us paid any attention to anyone else on the bus.

When we arrived at school we found Gary and Mary waiting for us. They greeted all of us warmly, which just reinforced the improvement in Randy’s mood that Rick had started on the bus. Adam was a little tense, but as soon as he spotted Scott most of that disappeared. I reminded myself, again, that I needed to tell Adam to try to avoid being too obvious.

A feeling of optimism grew as the morning progressed. I still sat at the back of the English class, but otherwise things were reverting slowly back to normal. Our classmates seemed to be taking Adam in their stride. There was a little bit of uneasiness from a few, but nothing that seemed significant. It was only as we moved between classes that we heard any comments, but Adam coolly ignored them.

At lunchtime, Michael told us what he’d found out about the guy from the day before. His name is Nick Tremen, a year 11 student and a bit of a loner. The only piece of gossip that Michael had managed to pick up was that although he is an above average student, he had repeated year 9. His parents had divorced near the end of that year, and the stress at home must have affected his final grades.

There wasn’t a lot there, but at least we had a name to go with the face. I hadn’t seen him all day, and I had been careful to keep an eye out for him. Maybe the day before had been a one-off incident, and whatever grudge or hate he had for gays had been satisfied by the paint prank.

Even Luke Williams had been conspicuous by his absence. Someone had remarked that they had seen him with his cronies down at the far end of the school, but he was staying out of the way.

I checked in on Randy and saw that his friends seemed to have him well in hand, so I left without approaching them. As I walked back I overheard a couple of girls making comments about how disgusting it was that they let perverts into the school. Otherwise, things seemed normal.

I was smiling when I rejoined the other guys.

“What are you grinning about?” Gary asked me.

“Just that it seems things are settling back to normal,” I replied.

“Unless it’s the calm before the storm,” Scott muttered, though we all heard him clearly.

“It’s too early to say,” Michael interjected. “I’m hearing a lot of comments, so the grapevine is still working overtime. After Luke got shot down by Ian on Monday, I think they’re waiting to see what happens next.”

“Yeah, but most people seem to be taking it in their stride. It’s only a handful who look like they might be a problem,” I pointed out.

“It only takes one,” Michael responded solemnly.

“Anyway, that’s only the students,” Adam added glumly. “We’ve got Sister Brenda next, remember?”

The Sister from Hell. She teaches our Religious Education classes. They’re only once a week, which is just as well, as it’s sometimes that long before we’ve recovered enough to face her again.

After Adam had damped my spirits with that reminder, the rest of the lunch break passed too quickly. Long before it seemed right, we were entering our next classroom.

We sat down and awaited the arrival of Sister Brenda. Having her as our Religious Education teacher gives us a benchmark for the horror stories we sometimes hear about disciplinarian nuns. Everyone is absolutely terrified of her. I’ve never managed to work out why, even though I am, too. Normally in a class there’s a soft whisper in the background, as the students quietly talk about whatever they want. With Sister Brenda, everyone is absolutely silent until she asks a question. Then it’s a case of, “Yes, Sister Brenda. No, Sister Brenda. I’m sorry, I don’t know, Sister Brenda.” In her class, you never just say you don’t know; it has to be prefaced with an apology. She’s never told us to do it, but it just seems necessary when she stares down at you with those dark, angry eyes of hers.

As least we’re luckier than the kids at the local Catholic school. As a non-denominational Christian school we’re not linked to any of the major churches, but instead have a broad spectrum of teachers. Sister Brenda is the only member of a religious order who teaches at our school.

Adam and I exchanged nervous glances. Would she treat him any different, now? It was clear from a few comments heard earlier that day that the teachers knew. Both of our teachers that morning had had a quiet word with Adam at some stage during their classes. Adam told me afterwards that they just told him that if he had any trouble he was free to come and see them at any time.

I tried to offer him a smile of encouragement, but Sister Brenda’s presence could be felt in that room, even when she wasn’t there. Something as lighthearted as a smile just felt out of place.

Just as the bell sounded, a short, stout man wearing a grey suit walked into the classroom.

“Good afternoon, class. My name is Mr. Martin. I will be teaching you, today. Sister Brenda is unfortunately laid up with a virus. We all pray that she will be up and about as soon as possible.”

A substitute teacher!

An audible sigh went through the room as everyone let go of their tension. It would be another week, at least, before we would have to face the Sister from Hell.

Adam gave me a relieved grin as he visibly relaxed back into his seat. I was feeling happy, at least in comparison to how I had felt before Mr. Martin had walked in, as the teacher started to read out the class roll.

“Johnson, David.”

“Here, sir,” I responded with a raised arm when he reached my name in the roll. As I lowered it I suddenly felt uneasy. Up until then he had just been reading the names and marking them off as each person responded. After my name there was a noticeable pause as he stared at me before going to the next name.

“Kennedy, Adam.”

“Present, sir,” Adam responded. That time everyone caught it. Mr. Martin grimaced at Adam for several long seconds before lowering his head and reading the next name on the class list.

As he continued the roll call, most of the students were whispering to their neighbours. From the glances they all gave Adam, it was clear what the topic was. Maybe Sister Brenda wasn’t the only one we needed to be cautious about. Adam was sitting stiffly again, eyes fixed forward and grim determination in his expression. I knew from our earlier discussions that he wasn’t going to give the teacher a chance to pick fault, if he could help it.

Once he had finished checking the names, Mr. Martin walked around to the front of the teacher’s desk.

“I understand that Sister Brenda has been instructing you on the differences between Christianity and Islam. While normally I would continue that instruction, I do not wish to interfere with her excellent teaching. Instead, we will spend this class on some complementary education.”

His delivery was flat; almost emotionless. A sense of passion or zeal seemed to drive him, but little of that coloured his voice.

“While there are many differences between the two religions, there are many commonalities as well,” he continued, before suddenly lifting his arm and pointing at me.

“Mr. Johnson, why is that?”

I rose to my feet to answer. Of all our teachers, only Sister Brenda insists on that. There was something about this guy, though, that made me cling to the formality of that action. It also gave me a precious couple of seconds to consider my answer.

“Because Islam was originally derived from the same teachings that form the basis of Christianity. They consider Jesus to be a prophet, instead of the Messiah, but they still respect him and the prophets before him,” I replied carefully.

He gave me a hard stare before nodding. As I sat down he started pacing slowly across the front of the room.

“Basically, correct. As a consequence of this, there are many areas in which the Islamic religion has the same principles and codes of behaviour as Christianity,” he said.

“One of the more prominent issues on which the two religions agree is the subject of homosexuality.”

I stiffened and stared at him with narrowed eyes. I’m not sure, but I think he flicked his gaze in the direction of Adam for a moment. Otherwise, he was being painstakingly careful to avoid looking at Adam.

“Sir, are you referring to Leviticus, Chapter 20, Verse 13, where it says that if a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, they both must be put to death?” Adam asked, as he rose to his feet.

Mr. Martin’s head snapped around at the question. It was clear that he hadn’t expected to be challenged in that way.

“Correct, Mr. Kennedy. The Bible is extremely clear on the subject. Homosexuality is an abomination,” he replied, distaste evident in his tone and posture.

“I’ve noticed that Verse 10 of the same chapter says that if a man commits adultery with another man’s wife, both should also be put to death. I take it, sir, that you have the same feelings for Wayne Carey as you do for homosexuals,” Adam replied with a faint grin.

A whisper ran through the class. Wayne Carey was the captain of the North Melbourne football team in the Australian Football League until it was discovered that he was having an affair with the wife of one of his teammates. Though many considered him to be one of the best players in the competition, he was forced to quit the club and go into hiding to avoid the media pack that descended on him.

Adam’s linking so strongly the subjects of homosexuality and adultery was causing a stir.

Mr. Martin stood there, gobsmacked, while the noise of the class escalated.

“That is enough, Mr. Kennedy. Resume your seat and refrain from any more outbursts,” he eventually stated loudly.

“But, sir, I’m only trying to learn. If the Bible says that both of these behaviours should be punished by death, surely that means that both are equal?” Adam asked politely, though he remained standing.

“Mr. Kennedy, please return to your seat!”

“But, sir…” Adam started.

“Now – or I will be forced to place you on detention!”

Smirking faintly, Adam resumed his seat.

Mr. Martin glared at him before turning to the rest of the class. “Now, as I was saying, Islam and Christianity both consider homosexuality to be an abomination. It is not to be tolerated.”

“Actually, sir, that’s not true,” Adam interjected, though he remained seated that time.

“I’m warning you, Mr. Kennedy,” Mr. Martin said ominously.

“The different branches of the Christian Church don’t have the same opinion on this subject. The Uniting Church of Australia, for example, is currently debating if they’ll allow homosexuals as ministers. It obviously can’t be an abomination if they are considering that,” Adam said quickly.

“That’s enough! Out of my class, at once!” The teacher’s face had gone red with anger.

“But I’m only asking questions, or correcting mistakes. Isn’t that what we’re here for?” Adam asked, looking a little shocked at Mr. Martin’s over-the-top reaction.

“Out!” Mr. Martin yelled, pointing to the door.

Adam gathered up his belongings and stood up. As he headed to the door, he paused.

“I don’t how you can call yourself a teacher when you can’t even answer simple questions,” he stated with disgust.

“Get out, you disgusting pervert! I won’t have your kind in my class!”

Mr. Martin shocked the entire room into momentary silence with that outburst.

I stood up as Adam reached the door.

“That was wrong, and you know it, Mr. Martin,” I stated loudly, putting as much derision into the teacher’s name as I could.

“You can get out, too. I’ve heard about you and your brother!” the teacher screamed.

He had just hit the wrong button.

“How dare you say anything about my brother!” I yelled. “He’s a much more decent Christian than you are. He knows how to care for someone, not just yell abuse. He shows a lot more Christian values than you’re showing! I’m not going to sit around and let you abuse your position by accusing Adam or my brother! I’m not leaving this room because you’ve told me to. I’m going because I don’t want to listen to the fucking rubbish you’re spewing out!”

At the edge of my vision I saw Adam standing by the door with an open mouth. I didn’t care what he or anyone else thought. I’d had enough.

I picked up my bag and threw back into it the few things I’d taken out of it, and then straightened up to find the teacher writing furiously on a piece a paper on his desk. As I approached, he folded it in two.

“Here! Take this to the office. I’ll be checking at the end of the period, so don’t even think of not taking it there. I don’t want to see either of you two again!” he said, slamming the paper into my chest.

I scrunched the paper as I closed my fist on it. I was tempted to throw it into the bin as I walked out the door, but a little voice in the back of my mind was telling me that I was in enough trouble already. I didn’t care – no one badmouths my brother in front of me!

“Come on, Adam. Let’s find somewhere where the air’s not putrid,” I stated loudly as I stormed out of the room.

My temper cooled slightly as we walked to the office.

“Thanks for sticking up for me, David,” Adam said quietly.

“That fucking excuse for a teacher!” I replied, temper rising again. “You raised reasonable questions and he couldn’t answer them! Then he goes over the top, calling you a pervert!”

I had taken a couple of steps before I realised Adam had stopped. I turned and found him staring at me with a puzzled look.

“What?” I asked, irritated.

“You called me worse than that on Friday night,” he said softly.

I turned away as I felt myself go red with embarrassment. My anger slipped away at the same time, as I heard the truth in that statement.

“I reacted without thinking,” I muttered as I looked at my feet. “I shouldn’t have said those things,” I added apologetically, looking over my shoulder at Adam.

He stared for a few seconds longer, then grinned. “Apology accepted, David.”

I felt a surge of exultation, sensing that at last he’d finally forgiven me for what I had said that night.

As we recommenced our trek to the office, Adam asked, “What’s in the note?”

Guiltily, I opened it up. I’d forgotten it was still in my fist. It was lucky that I hadn’t dropped it along the way.

Reading it quickly, I was surprised at how unemotional the note was.

“He’s reporting us for disrespect, disrupting the class, and abusive language,” I replied. “He wants us suspended.”

After a moment’s reflection I added, “He can’t get you on the last one. I was the only one who swore at him.”

“Somehow I don’t find that particularly comforting,” Adam responded dryly.

“I didn’t think I’d ever say anything like this, but I think Sister Brenda would’ve been preferable to that guy,” I remarked. “She’s a bitch, but she’s never been so unreasonable.”

“I think you’re right,” Adam agreed. “And I’m thinking that respect has to work both ways. He’s reporting us for being disrespectful. I’m going to report him as well for what he said to me as I was leaving.”

“Great! I hope he never gets another teaching job,” I said, feeling a little happier over what could happen to that excuse for a teacher.

I handed the note to the person at the front desk when we arrived at the office. After quickly reading it, she suddenly straightened.

“I think you boys had better wait here. I’ll get someone to see you as soon as I can,” she stated, before heading down the corridor to what I now knew was the vice principal’s office. After knocking, she went through the door.

Dropping into the seats that were there, Adam and I looked at each other. Apprehension was beginning to set in on what we’d done and what it could mean.

“What do you think will happen?” Adam asked tentatively after a minute of silent waiting.

I shrugged. “If there is justice in the world, he’ll get fired. However, at best, I think we’re in for some detention. I’m not sure I want to think of what the worst could be,” I admitted.

“The worst is suspension,” a dry voice replied from the direction of the corridor. “If Mr. Martin had written anything about either of you committing physical violence, it would be expulsion.”

We looked up to see Ms. Ng standing there, holding that little piece of paper that was beginning to mean so much. The diminutive vice principal didn’t look happy.

“Come into my office and tell me what happened,” she said, sounding resigned as she turned and walked away.

Scrambling to our feet and grabbing our bags, Adam and I followed her. At the entrance to her office she waved us inside and then entered and closed the door.

Adam and I looked at the chairs in front of the desk, but with one accord we elected to remain standing. We felt like little kids about to be reprimanded and it seemed better to be standing.

As she sat on her side of the desk, she frowned at us. “Sit down, please. I’ve already checked and none of your teachers have ever reported anything like this before, so I want to know what’s happened. When people do something out of character, there’s always a reason.”

Adam and I sat down quickly.

“While I can guess what’s going on, I’d like your side of the story first. Adam, can you please start?” Ms. Ng asked. She sat with an air of polite attention that indicated that she was willing to listen with an open mind.

Adam started nervously, but he quickly gained some confidence when he realised that the vice principal was listening respectfully as he recanted the events.

As he was finishing, Adam added, “I would like to register a formal complaint about Mr. Martin’s behaviour. He was disrespectful and abusive to a student who was only trying to seek clarification on what he was trying to teach.”

He said it stiffly, but he looked Ms. Ng in the eye while he was doing it.

“Thank you, Mr. Kennedy. I have recorded your complaint,” she replied, as she made some notes. She then looked up and asked, “Do you have anything you’d like to add, Mr. Johnson?”

I thought about it. Adam had done a good job of stating what had occurred. He’d done it with as little emotion as he could, going for clarity instead

“I’d just like to state that I’m sorry that I swore. I did it in response to Mr. Martin’s implications about my brother who wasn’t there to defend himself, but that does not excuse it. Otherwise, Adam’s given a pretty good account of what happened.”

“Thank you, Mr. Johnson,” she said with a faint smile. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to stay at the office. I can’t make any decisions without first hearing Mr. Martin’s side of the story. There is an empty room down the corridor to the right. You have exams next week, so I suggest you spend the rest of the day studying. Now, if you’ll excuse me?”

As she rose to her feet, Adam and I jumped up.

“Thank you, Ms. Ng,” Adam said politely, before heading to the door.

“Yes, thank you,” I added. As I turned away I thought I caught a glimpse of a smile on her face, but when I glanced back she was looking at me with a neutral expression. At least it didn’t look like she was pre-judging us.

We found the empty room and sat down after closing the door. I knew I wasn’t really in the mood to study, and I doubted Adam was.

“I think that went pretty well,” Adam stated nervously, as he looked across the table at me.

“You were honest. If they believe us, we should be okay,” I said, trying to make myself feel more confident.

“Yeah, we should be all right,” Adam agreed, as if saying it would make it so.

We sat looking at each other, not bothering to hide our worry. Our parents were going to kill us, regardless of what the school did.

I eventually broke the silence. “Can you help me with my maths, Adam? It’ll give us something to do.”

He sighed. “Sure, David, as long as you help me with my English homework, afterwards.”

“Done,” I said, with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. I knew that Adam understood the reason for that.

We studied until the bell rang for the end of the period. With an unspoken agreement, we stopped what we were doing. Mr. Martin would soon be with Ms. Ng, giving his side of the story.

“You know, if he tries to stretch the truth, we have most of the class who can give evidence on what really happened,” I said, trying to find something positive.

“I think the VP has already worked that out,” Adam replied dryly before continuing in a worried tone. “I’m more nervous about what she thinks about gays. Is she going to be biased because I’m gay?”

I threw my hands up in the air. “I have no idea. She didn’t give anything away while we were with her. Maybe that means she doesn’t mind?” I suggested hopefully.

Adam grimaced. “I’ve got my fingers, toes and legs crossed. I can’t do much else.”

“Try crossing your eyes, too,” I suggested, trying to be helpful.

After taking a second to absorb that little gem of advice, Adam gave a short laugh. “Thanks, Stick. I needed that.”

He’d used my nickname! Carefully pushing my delight into a corner of my mind, I reminded myself that he was stressed. He might have just used my nickname from past habit, without really meaning it. I decided to ignore it. If it really did show a change in heart, he’d do it again. In the meantime it represented hope, at least on that front.

“I meant to ask, before. How did you know about that stuff you said to the teacher in class?”

He grinned. “Web sites. I checked them out last night, so I’d be ready for whatever came up today. I had a whole lot more material ready to go, but I didn’t get a chance to use it.”

“Like what?”

“Like all the other things in Leviticus that no one pays any attention to anymore. Did you know that our school uniform is expressly forbidden?”

“You’re joking!” I said in disbelief.

“Nope. It clearly states you are not supposed to wear clothing made of mixed fibres. Our uniform is a polyester-cotton blend,” he said smugly.

As I sat there with my mouth open, he added, “I believe there is something in the New Testament that implies that a lot of those things don’t apply anymore. That’s what a minister told me once when I asked about the mixed fibre thing, but if that’s the case, how come they are so selective about what still applies?”

We chatted about some of the things that he had read, and it was certainly an eye opener. I was planning on dragging out my Bible and double-checking them when I got home.

“Petria Silk to the office. Can Petria Silk please come to the office?”

We stopped at the announcement from the PA system.

“She’s in our class. They’re starting to cross-check our stories,” Adam remarked. I nodded. It seemed likely. Petria is one of the better students, conscientious and hard-working. She also does some volunteer work outside of school hours. Overall, she has a reputation of being honest, so it made sense for her to be called up if our story disagreed with Mr. Martin’s.

Adam and I pulled out our English books and returned to our study. We hadn’t been going very long when the PA system made another announcement.

“Tristan MacDonald to the office. Can Tristan MacDonald please come to the office?”

We looked at each other. “Another one?” I asked, worried. “Why?”

Adam looked thoughtful. “I think it’s good news. If Petria’s story agreed with Mr. Martin’s, they wouldn’t have gone any further – just taken his word over ours. If they’re getting more stories, then it may be as evidence against him. Don’t forget, I lodged a complaint, too. They may be checking that out.”

Three more names from our class were called over the next hour. It seemed that Adam’s theory was the most likely one. They wouldn’t be going to that much trouble if they thought that Mr. Martin was innocent.

I became alarmed, however, as another name was called shortly before the end of school.

“Randy Johnson to the office. Can Randy Johnson please come to the office?”