Autumn - 11. A Man's Job

Ben Cohen arrived in Washington in the early afternoon of Tuesday, October 1. He was well-rested and alert as he took a cab at Dulles Airport headed for Georgetown. Ben had slept during a large part of the flight from London to prevent jet lag due to the time difference between England and the east coast of the United States.

Hudson Taylor’s flight from New York City landed at National Airport about an hour after Cohen’s reached Dulles. His cab ride to the Georgetown Inn on Wisconsin Avenue―the hotel they would be staying in through Sunday―was much shorter. Once settled in their rooms, the men met in the fitness center, getting a workout in while discussing their plans for the next few days.

Over e-mails exchanged the previous week, César and Brett had invited them to go out to dinner on their first evening in town. After showering and dressing in comfortable clothes, they left the hotel for the ten-minute walk to the home of their hosts for the evening.

“I got it, dads.” CJ sat at the breakfast bar, reviewing notes he had made over the last week, in preparation for the next day’s press conference. When the doorbell rang at seven o’clock, he knew it was the out-of-town visitors. He had a goofy grin on his face as he opened the door and Ben Cohen was standing there.

“CJ, mate! So good to see you again.” As the kid pulled the door open, the former rugby player stepped inside and hugged the boy. “Hey, I want you to say hello to Hudson Taylor. I know we’ve all been trading messages, but this is the first time you guys meet in person.”

“Hi, Ben.” CJ untangled himself from his friend’s hug and shook hands with the other man. “Hello, Mr. Taylor. Please come in, the dads will be down in a minute.” The boy closed the door, motioning the men towards the area in the front of the large living space.

“Hey! I’ll have none of that Mr. Taylor crap. Cohen’s way older than me, and if you can call him by his first name, you’ll do the same with me. It’s Hudson, okay?” The former wrestler put his arm around CJ’s shoulders and handed him a plastic bag he’d been carrying. “Here, I brought t-shirts for you and your dads.”

“Great! You don’t even know the kid and you’re feeding his addiction.” Brett’s comment made the visitors turn and look towards the staircase, while CJ sorted through the bag full of goodies he’d just been handed. “Hey, Ben, great to see you again. Hudson, I’m Brett Davenport, one of the addict’s fathers.”

“Good to meet you, Brett. So you must be César.” Hudson shook hands first with the marine and then with the other man standing next to him.

“Yes, I am. Hello, Hudson. Please ignore any further asinine remarks from my husband. Our kid’s not addicted. He’s what you could call a connoisseur of casual wear.” César accompanied his tongue-in-cheek comment with a grin. “I have no doubt the t-shirt collection’s well over one hundred already. I suspect it’ll continue to grow in the coming years.”

The bartender working this evening recognized the three Georgetown locals as they walked into The Tombs. She greeted them with a “Hi, guys” and a wave, pointing at an open table in the middle of the room.

“Mates, this place reminds me of a pub back home.” Ben looked at the fireplace behind their spot as he took a seat. “All those oars over the mantle are just the kind of thing a college place should have.”

“I guess this is your first time here?” CJ asked Ben as he sat at the end of the rectangular table facing the entrance. His dads took the chairs facing the aforementioned fireplace, while their visitors sat facing the bar.

“Yeah, but it won’t be the last. And with it being this close to your house, you’ll have me stopping by whenever I’m in Washington.”

“I’ve been here before, while I was at College Park.” Hudson had attended the University of Maryland; their main campus was less than an hour’s drive from the restaurant. “I remember the wrestling team came here twice to celebrate doing well in meets. Once against George Mason University, and once against Howard University.”

“Could we order food? It can’t just be me who’s starving!” CJ’s request was a borderline whine.

“Damn youngsters and their appetites.” Brett’s quip made them all chuckle, but CJ got his way as the marine motioned their server over to their table. “Real glad we’re all on foot. You guys want to share a pitcher? Don’t even think about it, CJ!”

“What? I don’t want those empty calories. I could end up with a beer gut like yours, Papa.”

“I’m definitely stopping by whenever I spend any time in D.C. You guys are a funny comedy act.” Ben placed his order, waited for the others to do the same, then looked at CJ. “Mate, I’ve been doing a lot of planning the past few weeks with your Mrs. Edwards and Mr. Rupple. There are a few things Hudson and I want to review with you tonight.”

“Me?”

“No, the other CJ at the table, you dork!” Brett’s smart-ass remark earned him a cuff behind the ear from his husband.

“Shut up, Jarhead. Don’t make me hit you again. Forgive my husband once again, Ben. He doesn’t get out much.”

“You guys are too much. Anyway, CJ, you and I should be at your school about ninety minutes before classes start. Remember we’re having breakfast with the other guys interested in your rugby club.”

“Thanks for agreeing to do that, Ben.”

“No problem. Hudson and I are taking a taxi, you can ride with us if you want. How do you get to school in the mornings?”

“I ride a bus almost every day―public transportation in D.C. is free for students during school hours. Or I catch a ride with one or the other dad, if one’s still home when I get back from the gym.”

“Forget the taxi. I’ll pick you guys up right after seven and take you all to school.” César grinned, his face set in a silly expression. “You realize how funny that sounds? I’m taking my teenage son and his buddies to school. Never mind his friends are closer to me in age than to him.”

“Thanks for the offer, César. So, CJ, after your homeroom period tomorrow, you and the other members of the GSA will be excused from classes,” Hudson said. “They’ll spend a large chunk of the day in training, while you’ll have some other things to attend to. The meeting with the press is scheduled for two o’clock. The three of us, your teacher, and the additional student spokesperson will be answering questions.”

“Dads, either of you gonna be there for it?”

“Sorry, bud. I’ll be stuck at the Pentagon with meetings.”

“I’ll try, but remember I have to be home early so I can start getting ready for dinner. Not easy making sure everything comes out at the proper time when cooking for twelve people.”

“Mate, the press meet should last no more than an hour or an hour and a half. We’ll be out of there at a decent time and we’ll get CJ home.” Ben settled his gaze on CJ before continuing. “You, my friend, need to pick half a dozen other students to be in the room. I doubt they’ll have to answer questions, but you never know with reporters. They’ll have lunch with us and Principal Edwards so we can give them a quick briefing.”

“Sure, that’s real easy. Autumn and Danek, the GSA co-chairs, and Harley and Thiago, my best friends and GSA members. Lance, the star pitcher on the baseball team―”

“The one whose ass you kicked just a week ago?”

“Shut up, Papa!”

“Oh yeah, your principal mentioned him,” Hudson said. “Tell you what, I’ll meet with him and I’ll ask he bring a female athlete along. I can use them to run the Athlete Ally pledge campaign on Thursday.”

“Hudson, remind me to tell you the story of CJ’s Memorial Day adventures during our walk back. That’s how he first came to my attention. One more thing, mate, you’ve seen the schedule for the day already, and you may have noticed there’s no listing for who’ll be introducing us. Guess who gets the job?”

“WHAT? Me? No way.”

“Yes, way. We all agreed you’re the right person for the job since you were the catalyst for the event. Your dads already gave their ok.”

“You guys knew about this and didn’t tell me?” asked CJ staring at his fathers.

“Yup.”

“Yeah.”

“Assholes!”

“Damn these youngsters, no respect for their elders.” Hudson chuckled his way through the entire exchange between his dinner companions.

“Fine, we gotta go then. I need to get on the computer and start writing things down. You guys owe me more t-shirts now!”

“Dude, don’t you want to at least eat first?” asked Brett.

“Duh! What do you think, papa?”

“Brett, you think CJ figured out we’re avoiding being around while the press is at the school on purpose?”

“Nah, we both had reasonable excuses.”

“I feel bad about lying to him.” César closed the book he’d been reading for the past half hour, removed his reading glasses, and placed both on the nightstand.

“Think of it as fibbing for his own good. Doing this is going against his constant rejection of publicity. If we were there, he’d just get nervous. It’ll be good for him anyway, I have a feeling this won’t be the last time he faces reporters in his life.”

“I guess… At least we know Ben, Hudson, and Martha will keep things from getting out of hand.”

“True that. Plus, Trip did promise to intervene if any of the reporters got too personal with their questions. Colonel Edwards wanted to show up and drag me along, but I talked him out of it. With all of us getting together for dinner tomorrow night, we’ll get all the details then.”

“I still can’t believe they’re getting so much press over a simple school meeting.”

“Pretty sure it’s the star power drawing the press, babe. Anyway, how about we forget about the kid for a bit and you help me with this growing problem I have.”

“Is that what you’re calling a boner these days, Jarhead? If so, that’s a problem I can help you take care of with pleasure.”

Once home after dinner the previous night, CJ texted his friends, inviting them to lunch with the visiting former athletes, and to attend the press conference in the afternoon. The speed at which the both of them replied saying yes was a good indication of their excitement. From there on, they burnt out CJ’s phone with a barrage of messages and questions.

Having arrived at Walls much earlier than usual, the three friends had not had an opportunity to speak in person. CJ spent the morning in a couple of different meetings, while his buddies were in class. Once their third period ended, the boys headed towards the principal’s office to meet up with the others taking part in the afternoon press gathering.

“You won’t go! I forbid it.”

The loud, gruff voice made the three friends stop and look at each other with questioning expressions. CJ put his index finger to his lips, suggesting silence. The boys approached the intersecting hallway, not making any sounds. They stood with their backs to the wall, as CJ peered around the corner.

“I won’t have one of my players associating with those faggots! It’s bad enough we all have to spend the day tomorrow listening to all their crap.” CJ didn’t recognize the man doing the talking but he sure as hell knew who was on the other side of the tirade.

“But, Coach, Principal Edwards invited me herself. She said CJ and Mr. Taylor asked her to.”

“I don’t care, the stupid woman has no say in this. If you want to remain the team’s star pitcher, you’ll do as I say. CJ, isn’t he the guy who kicked your ass? What? Are you friends now? Are you butt fucking each other?”

CJ closed his eyes for a second to try and calm himself. The comments had him well on his way to being pissed off. As CJ started to turn the corner, he motioned for Harley and Thiago to follow him. “Hey, Lance, you ready for lunch? You’re gonna get a kick out of Ben and Hudson, they’re cool guys.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” asked the man CJ realized was Milo Potts, coach of Walls’ baseball team. He looked at CJ and his companions disdain evident on his face. “He won’t be attending any lunch with a bunch of faggots today. Just go away and mind your own business, little boy.”

“I don’t think so, sir. Do you realize you’re trying to intimidate a student? The work many of us are doing this week’s designed to end this type of behavior, and it looks to me like you’re conducting yourself in a way no teacher should. Furthermore, this is most definitely my business: Lance is my friend. Your opinion of what we may or may not be doing is inconsequential. He will be at lunch with us today. And at the conference this afternoon.”

“Really? And how are you going to make me change my mind, you little homo? Maybe I need to teach you a lesson that'll leave you hurting enough to stay out of what doesn’t concern you.”

“I could just tell him to go ahead and beat the crap out of you until you change your mind, you homophobic idiot.” The sudden appearance of Principal Edwards made CJ and his friends smile. “But it would be unprofessional of me and just as wrong as your threat of violence against him. I’ll save you the physical pain and the embarrassment, Mr. Potts. As of right now, you're suspended. You’re relieved of your duties as a teacher, and as coach of the baseball team. Before the week is over, I’ll be filing formal charges against you. The testimony of four students, detailing your comments and threats, will be sufficient for me to dismiss you. Start planning to move. After I’m done, your career with the District Public Schools will be finished.”

As Ben made introductory remarks, describing the organizations he and Hudson represented, and what the next day’s program hoped to accomplish, CJ replayed Harley’s lunch performance in his head. His friend had been so excited about meeting the famous men he couldn’t sit still, failing to devour his lunch the way he did almost all the time. He had to admit all the students were somewhat star-struck, and their phones snapped plenty of pictures.

“Good afternoon. Nico Gomez, with the Washington Post.” The tall young man who stood up to ask the first question, wore a polo shirt stretched across his wide chest. His athletic look made CJ suspect he was a former jock turned sports writer. “Mr. Cohen, what made you choose School Without Walls as the first location in the Washington area to host your foundation’s program? And why did you decide to lead the presentations yourself?”

“The young man sitting next to Hudson. I met CJ this past summer at a StandUp Foundation fund-raising event and had the pleasure of spending time visiting with him and his parents. He impressed me with his maturity and his strong views on bullying. I promised him I’d come back and run the program at his school, if the administration asked me to.”

CJ was thankful Ben had skipped the details of their initial meeting and the Memorial Day Weekend incident which had moved him to make his offer to come to Walls. The half dozen reporters present alternated between the former athletes when asking questions. He was thinking he and José-María might escape without having to say anything.

“Hi. Trip Houston, freelancer. In the interest of full disclosure, I’m personal friends with CJ’s parents, and have spent time socializing with him over the past few months.” CJ groaned and decided killing Uncle Trip would be justifiable when he saw him at dinner in the evening. “CJ, if my memory is accurate, Mr. Cohen’s interest in you came about after he was told of your actions during a motorcycle rally at the beginning of summer. Would you be kind enough to share details of the experience with us?”

Okay, there was no question he was killing Uncle Trip, but first, he was going to torture him. “There wasn’t much to it, Mr. Houston. A guy was being bullied by an older and bigger biker, and I helped the guy off the ground after the biker gave him a hard shove.”

“If I may jump in here, I think CJ is being way too modest in his recounting of the events.” Hudson had leaned toward the microphones on the table while smiling at CJ. “I just heard the story last night. I was told our young friend here approached the biker and called him out on his use of homophobic remarks. When the bully escalated the confrontation from a verbal assault to a physical one, CJ used his martial arts training to defend himself.” Hudson’s comments earned him a spot on CJ’s ‘must hurt badly’ list.

By the time they were finished, CJ’s list of people to murder had grown to include: Lance, who spoke about CJ putting him in his place when the athlete tried to bully the younger guy; Autumn, who mentioned how CJ had handled a kid who made girls uncomfortable with his sexual innuendo, and who insisted on calling others derogatory names, without resorting to violence; and Mrs. Edwards, who told of CJ standing up to a teacher he saw bullying a student. The boy dreaded watching the news that evening or reading tomorrow’s paper.

“Hi, Uncle Danno, glad you could come tonight. Uncle Trip, you’re sooo dead.”

“Hey, CJ!” Standing behind his boyfriend, Danno grabbed Trip’s arms and held him in place. “You want me to hold him for you so it’ll be easier to kick the crap out of him?”

“Nah, not necessary,” said CJ as he hugged and kissed both men hello. “I’d rather have him run scared for a while. When I’m ready, those muscles of his won’t help him anyway.”

“Hmm, getting a tad cocky?” Trip chuckled at the teen’s hutzpah; he was more impressed with CJ each time he dealt with him. “Anyway, I was trying to do my job, and I’d like it noted there were others talking about your experiences.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… But you started it. Get in there. Pretty sure the dads are gonna want to hear what you thought about the afternoon. I think you know almost everybody, I’ll introduce you to any new faces.”

“The young guy is José-María, he was sitting between you and Ben this afternoon. And that one’s your teacher slash advisor. I don’t know the hot guy next to him.” Trip smiled when he mentioned the good-looking man and Danno possessively put an arm around his shoulders.

“That’s my English teacher, Mr. Rupple, and the hot-as-all-hell stud by his side is his other half. He’s Iranian. I just met him a little while ago and I like him. Real friendly guy. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

“Wipe the drool off your faces first,” chuckled Danno. “Both of you.”

“Damn! Perfect salt & pepper hair, beautiful face, and great chest hair peeking through the opening of his shirt…” Trip looked at Danno and made a big show of wiping the corners of his mouth with his thumb. “Big guy, if you hear me screaming from the basement later on, just ignore it.”

“Have at it, reporter boy. Betcha he’s as much a bottom as you are. He just has that look.”

“Shhh, be nice.” CJ tried to control the giggles ready to escape. “Hey, Mr. Rupple, I want you to meet some friends. You remember Uncle Trip from the inquisition I was subjected to this afternoon, and the giant with him is Wolf Manakauapo. Everyone calls him Danno since he’s from Hawaii.” The four men exchanged handshakes and greetings as CJ made the introductions. “Uncle Danno, Uncle Trip, this is Mr. James Rupple, my English teacher, and his partner Mr. Yousef Mandana.”

“None of the mister stuff, CJ! I know you have to with Jimmy because he’s your teacher, but I’m Yousef. Okay?”

“Sure. Hey, Papa, look who’s here.”

“I have a bone to pick with you, Mr. Charles Beauregard Houston. I hear you harassed my son this afternoon.” Brett had joined the group standing by the front windows of the townhouse, handing each of his friends a sweaty martini glass. “Gingintinis, gin, and ginger liqueur, my latest poison of choice.”

“Harassed? Me? I swear I limited myself to one little question, Ben and Hudson were the ones who took it from there.” Trip took a tentative sip from his cocktail, looked up at Brett, and nodded his head in approval. “Not bad, Jarhead. Tell you what, I’ll make it up to CJ on Saturday by introducing him to the guest of honor.”

“Speaking of Saturday, if I may jump in here for a minute.” Yousef flashed a smile with perfect teeth at the group. “CJ, I heard you talking to your school friend about going to a banquet on Saturday and having to pick up a rental tuxedo on Friday?”

“Yeah, I invited him to go with me and the dads, some black-tie event they have. Dad wanted to buy me a tux when I first got to Washington, but I never got around to it. I’ll have to sometime soon, they already told me of two more shindigs I have to go to with them before the year’s over.” CJ snuggled into Brett who had placed his inked right arm around his son’s shoulders.

“If you’re interested, and it’s okay with your dads, I can set you up with your own tux. I manage the Men’s Store at Neman Marcus on Wisconsin. We have great formal wear. If you come by Friday, I’ll make sure the tailor has it ready for you the next day.”

“I guess I could do that. Papa?” CJ looked up at Brett.

“Go for it, kiddo, you’re gonna need it several times in the next few months. Yousef, what are you thinking of putting him in?”

“He’d look great in a Brioni, although it would run around six grand just for the suit.”

“WHAT?”

“Geez, CJ. Blow out my eardrum, why don’t you?” Brett removed his arm from his son’s shoulders and made a big show of rubbing his ear. “Anyway, you know you can spend whatever you want, and if the man thinks that’s what’s best for you—”

“No way, Papa. I also need a shirt, shoes, and stuff.”

“Relax, I don’t believe you need to spend that much money,” said Yousef in an apparent effort to calm the kid down. “You have a great body. Almost anything will look good on you. Those wide shoulders scream for a Tom Ford, but it would need to be custom-made. I think the Armani Collezioni would be perfect. The price difference is quite significant. The Armani comes in at around two thousand.”

“Yowzah!”

As Walls students streamed into Lisner Auditorium, César, Brett, and Colonel Edwards discretely walked into the room and took seats in the back. Both military men wore civilian clothes in order not to attract too much attention. CJ’s dads and the Colonel had not told the boy they would be at the assembly; they wanted to avoid making him nervous.

“Any idea why they’re using such a large space?” asked Brett. “They won’t even fill in half of it.”

“Martha said they use it every now and then. There seems to be a lack of events scheduled during the daytime in here.” Ray Edwards had his ubiquitous unlit cigar in his mouth, moving it around from side to side as he spoke. “Since the high school doesn’t have any one room which will hold all the students, they rely on the university’s facilities for this type of gathering.”

The stage was set up with a table, two chairs behind it, and a podium to one side. César was aware this was the beginning of second period for the students. They had spent the first one in their homerooms, would go back to the high school for small group presentations and discussions during their third period, and then break for lunch. In the afternoon, they would reverse the order, starting in classroom-sized groups, before returning to the auditorium for the conclusion.

“Morning, guys.” Trip had slipped in and taken a seat next to César. He leaned part way around him to look at Ray Edwards who sat between Brett and César. “Colonel, it was good to spend time with you last night, I enjoyed visiting with you and Mrs. Edwards.”

“Same here. I haven’t seen any other media types around here this morning, you’re the first. Are you staying the entire day?

“I’ll be here most of the day. It would be fantastic to get enough material to write a nice long article. But more importantly, my studly nephew is speaking during the opening and closing sessions. Gotta be here to see my boy in action.”

“Studly nephew? Are you perving on our son? Colonel, request permission to shoot the civilian reporter.”

“Denied, Captain. Now shut up both of you, CJ’s walking up to the podium, and the big guys are taking their place at the table.”

“Good morning, everyone. My name’s CJ Abelló, I’m new to Walls this year, and I’m a sophomore. Principal Edwards has asked me to introduce our special guests, but before I do it, here’s a shout-out to my girl Autumn Dingell who celebrated her eighteenth birthday just a few days ago. Woo hoo!” Polite applause and some loud cheering came from the section where their group of friends sat.

“Wow, it’s warm up here. Excuse me for a minute.” CJ walked from the podium towards the table where the two athletes were sitting, unzipping his black Walls hoodie. He turned his back to the audience, took the garment off, and handed it to Ben Cohen. “Please hold that for me, Ben.” The boy turned around to face the audience once again, gave a crooked little smile, and stepped behind the podium. There was a smattering of applause coming from the GSA section as he did so.

“That’s better. For those of you wondering, yes that is a rainbow graphic on my shirt, and I’m darn proud to be wearing it.” The applause spread to the entire auditorium, louder than it was before, with wild cheering coming from Harley, Thiago, and his other friends.

“Excuse me, guys, but your boy just came out of the closet in front of his whole school and he has them cheering and eating out of his hand. I better get an exclusive interview before he announces his candidacy for whatever office he decides to run for. Oh, and I want an invite to the Lincoln Bedroom when he moves into the White House!”

“Asshole!” The whispered reply came simultaneously from CJ’s fathers, causing all four men to laugh.

“Alrighty, then… let’s see if I can do this. I’ll start by quoting from an article appearing in The New York Times on May thirteen 2011:

Ben Cohen is a world-class English rugby star, and Hudson Taylor is a three-time college all-American wrestler. They live on opposite sides of the Atlantic Ocean. They barely know each other.

But they have something quite unusual in common. They may be the only two high-profile heterosexual athletes dedicating their lives to the issues of bullying and homophobia in sports.

The question that each one frequently gets — besides “Are you gay?” — is why are they involved in something that does not directly impact them, or so it would seem.

That is just the point, they said. In much the same way that the hockey player Sean Avery’s recent endorsement of gay marriage resonated in large part because it came from an unexpected source, their sexual orientation helps the message cross to broader audiences, Cohen and Taylor said.

Seeing the difference between the theatre department and the locker room, Hudson felt it was important he challenge a side of sports no athlete should be proud of: sports marginalizing of GLBT athletes, coaches, and others through systemic homophobia and transphobia. Hudson decided he could no longer watch from the sidelines as his fellow jocks isolated and segregated some because of their sexual orientation. As a result of his media exposure, he began receiving hundreds of letters from parents and closeted athletes. Those served as his inspiration to create an organization dedicated to educating, encouraging and empowering straight athlete allies, to fight homophobia and transphobia in sports. In January of twenty-ten, he founded Athlete Ally.”

CJ paused while Hudson waved at the students, acknowledging their applause.

“Herbert Hudson Taylor the fourth attended the University of Maryland, where he was a three-time NCAA All-American wrestler. When Hudson wore an equality sticker from the Human Rights Campaign on his wrestling headgear, he was criticized by many of his fellow wrestlers, but garnered positive attention from the media. An athlete all his life, Hudson says he witnessed demeaning humor in high school and college athletics, aimed at some of the same people he became friends with while studying theater and Interactive Performance Art at the university.” As he spoke, CJ alternated his gaze between the audience and the tablet he’d placed on the podium, looking at what César knew were the notes he’d made over the past two days.

“This past summer, my parents took me to a fundraising event for the StandUp Foundation, an organization dedicated to fighting homophobia and bullying. That evening, I was lucky to meet its founder, the gentleman I addressed as Ben. Sorry about that, I should have said Mr. Cohen.” CJ glanced over at Ben and smiled.

“Benjamin Christopher Ben Cohen is a former England rugby union player. A member of the English national team which won the 2003 Rugby World Cup, he retired from professional rugby in May 2011 to concentrate his efforts on the organization he had just founded. Ben lost his father to violence when he stood up for an employee who was being attacked. That event, combined with countless communications from fans and friends about how physical and verbal abuse impacted their lives, is responsible for his current fight against bullying.” CJ paused for a moment, his gaze scanning the audience. For a fraction of a second, he seemed to stop, his stare locked on his fathers. He slowly nodded his head in recognition; a mischievous look on his face.

“Fellow students, faculty members, most honored guests… it’s my pleasure to introduce Ben Cohen and Hudson Taylor.”

“Asshole… I can’t believe he noticed we were here and emphasized the honored guests bullshit. Guess we really shouldn’t have worried about making him nervous.” Brett was laughing so hard it was a struggle to get the words out.

“Hi, I’m back.” CJ stood on stage behind the podium. Hudson and Ben ignored the chairs they had sat on in the morning; they rested their butts against the edge of the table and leaned back with their arms crossed in front of them. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the day as much as I have, and I think we all leave with a better understanding of what bullying is, and what we can do to put an end to it.”

The visiting athletes were the first to applaud the boy’s opening remarks. The gathered students were quick to join in.

“Thanks. Before I turn the mike over to Ben and Hudson, I want to share with you a portion of the lyrics to “Waiting for Thunder” by Eric Himan:

One girl’s voice carries on
Veiled behind a country in constant alarm
Even the older men keep their pace
Doesn’t revolution always come from the most unlikely place?

“The song was written in honor of Malala Yousafzai, a Pakistani girl my age, who spoke of the right to education for females in her country. The Taliban had her shot in an attempt to silence her. If a teen dared to stand up the Taliban, we can have the courage to stand up to bullying by anyone. Thanks again. Ben? Hudson?”

“On behalf of Ben and myself, our gratitude to Principal Martha Edwards and Mr. James Rupple, for allowing us to visit with you today. A special thank you to my friend, CJ, who gave us such a warm introduction this morning and assisted us in organizing the entire day. Please give it up for Miami.” Hudson looked at the teen with a mischievous grin, as applause and chanting of the nickname by some of the kid’s friends followed. “To all the student-athletes I met with today who signed the Athlete Ally pledge, please remember we will achieve victory through unity. Thanks once again, now here’s Mr. Cohen.”

“Mr. Cohen my butt, by now I should be Ben to everyone in this room.” The former rugby player paused for a moment to acknowledge the applause. “Just before lunchtime yesterday, one of the school’s athletic coaches berated a student-athlete for wanting to participate in today’s events. He used homophobic language and threatened to throw the player off the team. A fellow student overheard the threats, told the coach what he was doing was bullying, it was unacceptable, and his player could participate if he wanted to. The youngster stood his ground when threatened by the older man. The loud voices attracted the attention of your principal who put an end to the threats and the altercation.” CJ was hoping his name wouldn’t come up. He knew it would at some point, the gossip grapevine would have details flying around within minutes―most would be wrong.

“It is not enough you refrain from name-calling. It is not enough you refrain from physical threats and abuse. It is imperative each one of you stop others, students and adults, from doing so. It is imperative you STAND UP AGAINST BULLYING. Thank you, Walls. Go Penguins!”

“I’m scared, Jarhead, if our boy can manipulate a crowd the way he did today at his age, what the fuck are we going to be dealing with in ten or twenty years?” César slipped in bed next to Brett and wrapped his arms around him.

“Suck it up, Emperor, you may as well get used to the idea. Our son’s going to be President of the United States, sooner or later.”

“The kid never ceases to amaze me. He tries to do what’s right at all times, each new challenge he faces head-on. He always does a man’s job.”