My first(and last too ..ohhh I so hope....) - 2. Chapter 2

It is difficult you know, very difficult. You have to deal with everything alone and the worst part is there is no one you can really trust. Should you tell or shouldn't you? How would they react? Would they be horrified or would they support you? What about your friends, would they really stand by you, understand you or run from you, like some kind of contamination (Their typical responses- "Aaaaa!!! Gay germs!!!He's gonna rape us. Don’t show your ass to him.")?

I mean being gay is not a choice. It’s just NOT and like every hetero man is not running after every living and breathing girl (except some sleazy, lecherous ones) on this planet, similarly I am not trying to get into the pants of every frigging boy I come across. I mean everybody has some standards and some expectation and I'm not trying to brag or anything but it’s just that I know I'm good looking and all (blushing here a little...hehehe) and I can get into any gay boy's pants (even some straight ones) if I try hard enough. I am 5'9, fair skinned with dark brown hair and small beady black eyes. I am what you would probably call slim (don't have those so coveted six packs or so) but I'm nicely toned (blushing again). But none of this matters. Why, you ask? B'coz the guys I want to look at me never even give me a pathetic little glance because guess what? I've got the wrong appendages.

But enough wallowing in self-pity here, let's get back to where we were before. I've thought many times to just blurt it out, you know, puke it all out on them, except I just don't have any reason to tell them right now at this particular moment. I mean even if I do tell them then what (except some catastrophe, hell and damnation and some lightning too I guess)? I mean why to face all that drama, all that pain and insult for no reason whatsoever. It’s not like I will come out to my parents and friends and get a cute boyfriend (oh god!!! I so want one) in the process and ride into the sun with him on my pink unicorn (hahahahaha ... it’s so hilarious once you picture it. If you didn't get it, it was your cue to laugh).

Damn this self-pity!! Why am I always cribbing??Anyways, let’s get back. So I woke up that day, you know the day like any other million days, yawned a little, slobbered a little, poked my younger sister a little...no actually a lot , gave my mother shrugs, whatevers and eye rolls on her little rants about my looks. I mean what she has against my bangs. I mean I'm not emo and all but who doesn't love that Beiber's old floppy hairstyle. On the whole a normal morning for me in my little home (ok, it’s huge I admit).

"Don't forget your lunchboxes", mom wailed. She actually wailed as me and my sister ran downstairs to catch our school bus. I mean I'm a big boy now but NO, she just won’t get it. Like ever. So I jumped on the bus and ran towards the backseat. Yeah!!! I'm a back-seater (happy face here!!!) and the only tenth grader sitting between fifth and sixth graders (not so happy now).

In our bus, it’s not a big deal to grab the back seat and all the small gits just hurl themselves to the last seats whenever they get the chance (which is like all the time) and I've always sat in that pet seat of mine so I refused to budge when all the other seniors started sitting in the front. I mean why should I? I have always sat here and will sit in it till my school term ends even if I have to sit with kindergarteners. As usual, they were having their chatter about the unit tests(which all the classes have on Wednesday) and I found myself pleasantly grunting and grumping on a squirmy little fifth grader who had just stepped on my foot "accidently" ( the squirmy worm said that). Huh ... I know how accidental it was when yesterday afternoon they got into a water fight and I was the one getting most wet.

But there was one little squirt who I really liked and looked forward to meet every day. Saiyam - not the brightest of the lot and neither the dumbest but the most entertaining you know, the one who always have some crazy story to tell and god knows I need some crazy in my life (actually I only need a bf. A cute, sweet, sensitive one who can hold me whenever I want and say sweet nothings to me mmmmm... Sorry back to the story). But I didn't see him that day; guess his dad will drop him off in one of their many Mercedes, with him strutting out of it in braces big enough to cover his entire face and that foolish grin of his.

Anyways, I endured the bus trip like I always do and got down after some pushes and pulls from all sides and trudged towards the big school building with Amitt International School written on the school wall in big bold silver letters. I entered the gates, tripped one or two kids on the way to my class all in good humour you know, placed my bag pack near the seat and sat down waiting patiently and calmly for the bell to ring and the class to start but curiously enough I found my right hand carving a little doodle of a man hanging himself from the balcony on the wooden desk. And then I saw him enter...

You know our maths teacher (facepalm). He was a bulky old man always giving very important (and omg! totally out of the syllabus) and very simple (problems which even Einstein couldn't solve) assignments which none of us even bothered to look at except Mr and Miss .Know It All of course (more about them later). So, he handed us our unit test question papers and as I lowered my pen to write down the first wrong answer (see how bright I am. I always know which question I'm answering wrong) HE actually appeared. SAMAR.