A/N: I had to write this story for an essay contest, but decided that I just couldn't end it like this. I'm planning on having a series following up this short one, so please review and tell me how you like it! WARNING: If you DO NOT support homosexuality, STOP NOW!! There isn't any dirty content in this, but this was an opinionated story, so if you don't agree with the idea of being gay, DO NOT READ THIS! Thank you.

--

Glitter and Grey: What is Freedom?

I stare blankly at the murky street through a fogged up window. I believe I can hear my older sister calling me from the kitchen to come down and get breakfast. But really, what’s the point? I’ll only have to faced another cursed day at that school.

She stomps up the small staircase and twists at the knob. It’s locked.

“Duke, get your bum out of bed! I'm making you a nice sausage and biscuit breakfast! It’s your favorite!” she pleads to me from behind the closed door.

“Why? So everyone can call me names?” I mutter unemotionally.

From where I’m laying in my bed, I get up to open the door. But I stop for a second to examine myself in the door mirror. I see a pale, scrawny sixteen-year-old with shoulder length black hair (as of now a mass of tangles) and piercing emerald green eyes.

‘Every girl is after that face,’ I think to myself, ‘It’s just that I don’t care.’

“Duke! Open up the door this second!”

I’m suddenly knocked out of my daze and I open the door to my sister. She looks a lot like me, except she has honey brown hair and her eyes are a duller shade of viridian. Yet, as of now, they’re ablaze with anger. Yet, at the same time, they are soft in despair.

“Duke, please, for the last time, don’t lock the door on me!” Her voice has a poor pitiful tone to it.

“I’m sorry, Ella… I just don’t feel like I can face school because…”

I trail off and look away.

“Because you’re… gay…?”

I flinch at the word, but slowly look back up at her.

“Come on,” Ella says calmly, taking my shoulder, “let’s go get some breakfast.”

--

Looking over my half-full glass of orange juice, I can see Ella working hard to prepare a hardy breakfast of sausage and biscuits.

“You need some meat on your bones,” my father always said, “You’re so thin, you might snap in half!”

“I miss dad…” I say quietly under my breath.

Ella must have heard me, for she turns and looks at me seriously.

“You know that dad can’t come back yet. He’s working for your rights, so be patient. He wants your freedom.”

My hair falls down in my face as I wrap my hands around the glass to take another sip of orange juice. I faintly recall dad complaining about six months ago when he learned my ‘secret’. He reasoned that America was called ‘Land of the Free’, yet there were hardly any equal rights for gays. He felt gays had no freedom to say who they were or how they felt on important issues. It was about that time he left Ella and me to go to Washington D.C. to make a change… all for me.

“He’s working hard for you, Duke, so don’t give up hope yet.”

I sigh miserably and set my glass of orange juice roughly on the table.

“Ella,” I say quietly, “I don’t feel like breakfast this morning.”

I get up out of my seat and move across the floor to open the door.

“But Duke--” she begins to say. But as she looks behind her, she sees that I’m already gone.

--

“Mr. Draven, could you tell me the answer?”

I’m suddenly pulled from my trance and back into reality.

“Mr. Draven, the answer, please!”

I hate it when my teacher calls me by my last name, but I grit my teeth and ask, “Which number… sir?”

Walking up the aisle to where I’m sitting, he points to one of the numerous numbers on one of my numerous papers in an almost threatening fashion.

“Maybe you should pay attention more often, Mr. Draven. It may help you pull your grades back up.”

I open my mouth to say something, but decide against it.

“Do you have something to say, Mr. Draven?”

I think a moment. Should I really risk it? Should I use what little freedom I have to say how I feel, or should I just shut my trap here and now?

“No sir, I have nothing to say.”

--

“Duke! Why didn’t you say anything? You shouldn’t have taken that!” my friend Ryan says while chowing down on a peanut butter sandwich during lunch.

Presently, I stare at my food with utmost distaste. Our school lunches have improved over time, but as of now, I don’t feel like sinking my teeth into the cheeseburger on my tray.

Ryan can tell I’m bothered by something, so he moves from his spot across from me to sit down beside me.

“Come on, fess up, there’s something on your mind, I can tell,” he says as his pale blonde hair falls in his face to hide his ocean blue eyes.

I turn away. I can’t look at him.

“I’ve lost faith, Ryan. The whole ‘freedom to say what you want’ thing just isn’t real. Well, at least, not for me.”

“Because you’re…” he trails off. I knew he was completely comfortable with that fact; he had known ever since elementary school. But it seemed like no one else was.

I get up from my seat without even taking my tray.

“I’m going home Ryan. I don’t care if I’m skipping. I can’t be here a second longer.”

And so with that, I walk out the cafeteria exit; back out into the slushy, rainy streets of the Big Apple.

--

Old cars and speedy buses zoom past me and as I walk home through this miserable downpour. I can’t wait to get home and see Ella. I know what she’ll say, though.

“That’s the fifth time this month that you’ve walked home during school!” she’ll say. I’ll just shrug it off and head to my room; my sanctuary.

“Hey! What’re you doing here?!"

I look up as I’m broken from my thoughts to see a figure about five feet in front of me. I can hardly see him because of the pounding rain in my eyes.

“Duke…” he says in a cold voice, “long time, no see.”

I suddenly realize who it is. Neil. The only one who can truly get under my skin. He’s hated my guts ever since he learned my ‘secret’. We used to be friends, but now he is my one true enemy.

“Neil, go away,” I say as I begin to shiver uncontrollably, “I’m going home, so just leave me be.”

But he isn’t listening.

Closing the gap between us, he pulls back his fist and I take a clean shot to my face. I fall immediately. He kicks me a couple of times in the gut before asking, “Not going to say anything, are we, faggot?” He kicks me once more.

Of course I’m not. Because of the way I am, I won’t. And it’s not fair.

The last thing he says as he leaves I can only hear faintly.

“How disappointing.”

--

I’m not sure how long I’ve lain here, but I can’t get up. I can feel a sharp stinging in my ribs as my consciousness slowly returns. Once again, I try to get up. Fortunately, this time, I succeed.

I know it’s going to take a lot of bandages to make me feel better. I know Ella will be disappointed. As I walk home, I know in my heart, the system isn’t fair.

--

A/N: As I said: PLEASE review. I'd really like to continue, so tell me what you think! Thank you for reading!